» I \ (3> s ^ ' ' ^ ^-^ . ^'^. 5. ^ o „ . -i ■x^^'' '^- o5 ^<^^ '^^^ v^ x^^^^. ,0O_^ ' <■ r .•^^'o^ r' '->/ "" ^m^^^ . 1 _. \> y. ^ * ^ "> r v^ -^ « .\ ' " « ^l v^^' '^/>. d^ <<. OLFEIRTS KOOST BY WASHINGTON IRVING WOLFERT'S ROOST iND OTHER PAPERS, Note first €ollecteK BY WASHINGTON IRVING. AUTHOK'S REVISED EDITION. NEW YORK: G. P. PUTNAM AND SON, 661 Broadway Opposite Bond Street. 1868. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the 3'ear 1865, by George P. Putnam, iu the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE : «TEREOTYPED AND PRINTED Br H. 0. HGUGaiON AND COMPANI. CONTENTS. — ^— PAGE Wolfert's Koost . ... 5 The Birds 07 Spking 30 The Creole Village 38 mouktjoy 50 The Bermudas .109 The Three Kings of Bermuda .... 119 The Widow's Ordeal 126 The Kxight of Malta 144 The Grand Prior of Minorca .... 147 "A Time of Unexampled Prosperity" . 108 The Great Mississippi Bubble ..... 172 Sketches in Paris in 1825. — The Parisian Hote 215 My French Neighbor 219 The Englishman at Paris 222 English and French Character 226 The Tuileries and Windsor Castle . . . 230 The Field of Waterloo 235 Paris at the Eestoration 238 A. Contented Man . . . . • . . .245 Broek: the Dutch Paradise .... 253 Guests from Gibbet Island 202 The Early Experiences of Ralph Ringwood 279 iv CONTENTS. P\OB The Seminoles 325 Origin of the White, the Red, and the Black Men 330 The Conspiracy of Neainathla .... 333 The CouiiT Van Horn 343 Don Juan: a Spectral Research . . . S82 Legend of the Engulphed rojjVENT . . . 376 The Phantom Island 384 The Adalantado of the &even Cities . . . 387 Recollections of the Alhambra . . . 412 The Abencerrage 416 WOLFERT'S ROOST. CHRONICLE I. fBOUT five-and-twenty miles from the ancient and renowned city of Manhat- tan, formerly called New Amsterdam, and vulgarly called New York, on tlie eastern bank of that expansion of the Hudson known among Dutch mariners of yore as the Tappan Zee, being in fact the great Mediterranean Sea of the New Netherlands, stands a little, old-fashioned stone mansion, all made up of gable ends, and as full of angles and corners as an old cocked hat. It is said, in fact, to have been modelled after the cocked hat of Peter the Headstrong, as the Escurial was modelled after the gridiron of the blessed vSt. Lawrence. Though but of small di- mensions, yet, like many small people, it is of mighty spirit, and values itself greatly on its an- tiquity, being one of the oldest edifices, for its size, in the whole country. It claims to be an ancient seat of empire, — I may rather say an empire in itself, — and like all empires, great and small, has had its grand historical epochs. In speaking of this doughty and valorous little pile, I shall call it by its usual appellation of " The Roost " ; 6 WOLFERTS ROOST. though that is a name given to it in modern days, since it became the abode of the white man. Its origin, in truth, dates far back in that re- mote region commonly called the fabulous age, in which vulgar fact becomes mystified and tinted up with delectable fiction. The eastern shore of the Tappan Sea was inhabited in those days by an unsophisticated race, existing in all the sim- plicity of nature ; that is to say, they lived by hunting and fishing, and recreated themselves occasionally with a little tomahawking and scalp- ing. Each stream that flows down from the hills into the Hudson had its petty sachem, who ruled over a hand's-breadth of forest on either side, and had his seat of government at its mouth. The chieftain who ruled at the Roost was not merely a great warrior, but a medicine-man, or prophet, or conjurer, for they all mean the same thing in Indian parlance. Of his fighting propensities evi- dences still remain, in various arrow-heads of flint, and stone battle-axes, occasionally digged up about the Roost ; of his wizard powers we have a token in a spring which wells up at the foot of the bank, on the very margin of the river, which, it is said, was gifted by him with rejuvenating powers, something like the renowned Fountain of Youth in the Floridas, so anxiously but vainly sought after by the veteran Ponce de Leon. This story, however, is stoutly contradicted by an old Dutch matter-of fact tradition, which declares that the spring in question was smuggled over from Holland in a churn, by Femmetie Van Blarcom, wife of Goosen Garret Van Blarcom, one of the WOLFERVS ROOST. 7 first settlers, and tliat she took it np by night, unknown to her husband, from beside their farm- house near Rotterdam ; being sure she should find no water equal to it in the new country ; — and she was right. The wizard sachem had a great passion for dis- cussing territorial questions, and settling boun dary lines ; in other words, he had the spirit of annexation. This kept him in continual feud with the neighboring sachems, each of whom stood up stoutly for his hand-breadth of territory ; so that there is not a petty stream nor rugged hill in the neighborhood that has not been the subject of long talks and hard battles. The sachem, however, as has been observed, was a medicine- man as well as warrior, and vindicated his claims by arts as well as arms ; so that, by dint of a little hard fighting here, and hocus-pocus (or di- plomacy) there, he managed to extend his boun- dary line from field to field and stream to stream, until it brought him into collision with the power- ful sachem of Sing-Sing.* Many were the sharp conflicts between these rival chieftains for the sovereignty of a winding valley, a favorite hunt- ing-ground watered by a beautiful stream called the Pocantico. Many were the ambuscades, sur- prisals, and deadly onslaughts that took place * A corruption of the old Indian name, 0-sin-sing. Some have rendered it, 0-sin-song, or 0-sing-song, in token of its being a great market-town, where anything may be had for a mere song. Its present melodious alteration to Sing-Sing is said to have been made in compliment to a Yankee singing- master, who taught the inhabitants the art of singing through tbe nose. 8 WOLFERTS ROOST. fimong its fastnesses, of which it grieves me much that I cannot pursue the details, for the gratifica- tion of those gentle but bloody-minded readers, of both sexes, who delight in the romance of the tomahawk and scalping-knife. Suffice it to say, that the wizard chieftain was at length victorious, though his victory is attributed, in Indian tra- dition, to a great medicine, or charm, by which he laid the sachem of Sing-Sing and his warriors asleep among the rocks and recesses of the valley, where they remain asleep to the present day, with their bows and war-clubs beside them. This was the origin of that potent and drowsy spell, which still prevails over the valley of the Pocantico, and which has gained it the well-merited appella- tion of Sleepy Hollow. Often, in secluded and quiet parts of that valley, where the stream is overhung by dark woods and rocks, the plough- man, on some calm and sunny day, as he shouts to his oxen, is surprised at hearing faint shouts from the hill-sides in reply ; being, it is said, the spell-bound warriors, who half start from their rocky couches and grasp their weapons, but sink to sleep again. The conquest of the Pocantico was the last tri- umph of the wizard sachem. Notwithstanding all his medicines and charms, he fell in battle, in attempting to extend his boundary line to the east, so as to take in the little wild valley of the Sprain ; and his grave is still shown, near the banks of that pastoral stream. He left, however, a great empire to his successors, extending along the Tappan Sea, from Yonkei's quite to Sleepy WOLFERTS BOOST. 9 Hollow, and known in old records and maps by the Indian name of Wicquaes-Keck. The wizard sachem was succeeded by a line of chiefs of whom nothing remarkable remains on record. One of them was the very individual on whom master Hendrick Hudson and his mate Robert Juet made that sage experiment gravely recorded by the latter, in the narrative of the dis- covery. " Our master and his mate determined to try some of the cheefe men of the country, whether they had any treacherie in them. So they took them down into the cabin, and gave them so much w^ine and aqua vitae, that they were all very mer- rie ; one of them had his wife with him, which sate so modestly as any of our countrywomen would do in a strange place. In the end, one of them was drunke ; and that was strange to them, for they could not tell how to take it." * How far master Hendrick Hudson and his worthy mate carried their experiment with the sachem's wife, is not recorded ; neither does the curious Robert Juet make any mention of the after consequences of this grand moral test ; tra- dition, however, affirms that the sachem, on land- ing, gave his modest spouse a hearty rib-roasting, according to the connubial discipline of the abo- riginals ; it farther affirms that he remained a hard drinker to the day of his death, trading away all his lands, acre by acre, for aqua vitoe ; by which means the Roost and all its domains, from Yonkers to Sleepy Hollow, came, in the regular * See Juet's Journal, Purchas' Pilgrams. 10 W0LFERT8 ROOST. course of trade, and by right of purchase, intc the possession of the Dutchmen. The worthy government of the New Nether- lands was not suffered to enjoy this grand acqui- sition unmolested. In the year 1654, the losel Yankees of Connecticut, those swapping, bar- gaining, squatting enemies of the Manhattoes, made a daring inroad into this neighborhood, and founded a colony called Westchester, or, as the ancient Dutch records term it, Vest Dorp, in the right of one Thomas Pell, who pretended to have purchased the whole surrounding country of the Indians, and stood ready to argue their claims before any tribunal of Christendom. This happened during the chivalrous reign of Peter Stuyvesant, and roused the ire of that gunpowder old hero. Without waiting to discuss claims and titles, he pounced at once upon the nest of nefarious squatters, carried off twenty-five of them in chains to the Manhattoes ; nor did he stay his hand, nor give rest to his wooden leg, until he had driven the rest of the Yankees back into Connecticut, or obliged them to acknowledge allegiance to their High Mightinesses. In re- venge, however, they introduced the plague of witchcraft into the province. This doleful mal- ady broke out at Vest Dorp, and would have spread throughout the country had not the Dutch farmers nailed horse-shoes to the doors of their houses and barns, sure protections against witch- craft, many of which remain to the present day. The seat of empire of the wizard sachem now came into the possession of Wolfert Acker, one WOLFERTS ROOST. 11 of the privy councillors of Peter Stuyvesant. He was a worthy, but ill-starred man, whose aim through life had been to live in peace and quiet. For this he had emigrated from Holland, driven abroad by family feuds and wrangling neighbors. He had warred for quiet through the fidgety reign of William th-e Testy, and the fighting reign of Peter the Headstrong, sharing in every brawl and rib-roasting, in his eagerness to keep the peace and promote public tranquillity. It was his doom, in fact, to meet a head-wind at every turn, and be kept in a constant fume and fret by the perverseness of mankind. Had he served on a modern jury, he would have been sure to have eleven unreasonable men opposed to him. At the time when the province of the New Netherlands was wrested from the domination of their High Mightinesses by the combined forces of Old and New England, Wolfert retired in high dudgeon to this fastness in the. wilderness, with the bitter determination to bury himself from the world, and live here for the rest of his days in peace and quiet. In token of that fixed purpose, he inscribed over his door (his teeth clinched at the time) his favorite Dutch motto, " Lust in Rust" (pleasure in quiet). The mansion was thence called Wolfert's Rust (Wolfert's Rest), but by the uneducated, who did not understand Dutch, Wolfert's Roost ; probably from its quaint cockloft look, and from its having a weathercock perched on every gable. Wolfert's luck followed him into retirement. He had shut himself up from the world, but he 12 WOLFERT^ ROOST. had brought with him a wife, and it soon passed into a proverb throughout the neighborhood that the cock of the Roost was the most henpecked bird in the country. His house too was reputed to be harassed by Yankee witchcraft. When the weather was quiet everywhere else, the wind, it was said, would howl and whistle about the gables ; witches and warlocks would whirl about upon the weathercocks, and scream down the chimneys ; nay, it was even hinted that Wolfert's wife was in league with the enemy, and used to ride on a broomstick to a witches' sabbath in Sleepy Hollow. This, however, was all mere scandal, founded perhaps on her occasionally flour- ishing a broomstick in the course of a curtain lecture, or raising a storm within doors, as terma- gant wives are apt to do, and against which sorcery horse-shoes are of no avail. Wolfert Acker died and was buried, but found no quiet even in the grave ; for if popular gossip be true, his ghost has occasionally been seen walk- ing by moonlight among the old gray moss-growp trees of his apple orchard. CHRONICLE II. The next period at which we find this venera- ble and eventful pile rising into importance, was during the dark and troublous time of the revo- lutionary war. It was the keep or stronghold of Jacob Van Tassel, a valiant Dutchman of the old \Voll"erf^"Roogt, p. 1-3. Sleepy Hollow. WOLFERTS ROOST. 13 Stock of Van Tassels, who abound in Westchester County. The name, as originally written, was Van Texel, being derived from the Texel in Hol- land, which gave birth to that heroic line. The Roost stood in the \qyj heart of what at that time was called the debatable ground, lying between the British and American lines. The British held possession of the city and island of New York ; while the Americans drew up to- wards the Highlands, holding their head-quarters at Peekskill. The intervening country from Cro- ton River to Spiting Devil Creek was the debat- able gi-ound in question, liable to be harried by friend and foe, like the Scottish borders of yore. It is a rugged region, full of fastnesses. A line of rocky hills extends through it like a back- bone, sending out ribs on either side ; but these rude hills are for the most part richly wooded, and enclose little fresh pastoral valleys watered by the Neperan, the Pocantico,* and other beau- tiful streams, along which the Indians built their wigwams in the olden time. * The Neperan, vulgarly called the Saw-Mill River, winds for many miles through a lovely valley, shrouded by groves, and dotted by Dutch farm-houses, and empties itself into the Hudson, at the ancient Dorp of Yonkers. The Pocantico, rising among woody hills, winds in many a wizard maze through the sequestered haunts of Sleepy Hollow. We owe it to the indefatigable researches of Mr. Knickerbocker, that those beautiful streams are rescued from modern common- place, and reinvested Avith their ancient Indian names. The correctness of the venerable historian may be ascertained by reference to the records of the original Indian grants to the Herr Frederick Philipsen, preserved in the county clerk's office at White Plains. 14 WOLFERTS ROOST. In the fastnesses of these hills, and along these valleys, existed, in the time of which I am treat- ing, and indeed exist to the present day, a race of hard-headed, hard-handed, stout-hearted yeo- men, descendants of the primitive Nederlanders. Men obstinately attached to the soil, and neither to be fought nor bought out of their paternal acres. Most of them were strong Whigs through- out the war ; some, however, were Tories, or adherents to the old kingly rule, wdio considered the revolution a mere rebellion, soon to be put down by his majesty's forces. A number of these took refuge within the British lines, joined the military bands of refugees, and became pio- neers or leaders to foraging parties sent out from New York to scour the country and sweep off supplies for the British army. In a little while the debatable ground became infested by roving bands, claiming from either side, and all pretending to redress wrongs and punish political offences ; but all prone in the exercise of their high functions — to sack hen- roosts, drive off cattle, and lay farm-houses under contribution ; such was the origin of two great orders of border chivalry, the Skinners and the Cow Boys, famous in revolutionary story : the former fought, or rather marauded, under the American, the latter, under the British banner. In the zeal of service, both were apt to make blunders, and confound the property of friend and foe. Neither of them in the heat and hurry of a foray had time to ascertain the politics of a horse or cow, which they were driving off into captivity ; WOLFERTS ROOST. 15 uor, when they wrung the neck of a rooster, did they trouble their heads whether he crowed for Congress or King George. To check these enormities, a confederacy was formed among the yeomanry who had sutfered from these maraudings. It was composed for the most part of farmers' sons, bold, hard-riding lads, well armed, and well mounted, and undertook to clear the country round of Skinner and Cow Boy, and all other border vermin ; as the Holy Broth- erhood in old times cleared Spain of the banditti which infested her highways. Wolfert's Roost was one of the rallying places of this confederacy, and Jacob Van Tassel one of its members. He was eminently fitted for the service ; stout of frame, bold of heart, and like his predecessor, the warrior sachem of yore, de- lighting in daring enterprises. He had an Indian's sagacity in discovering when the enemy was on the maraud, and in hearing the distant tramp of cattle. It seemed as if he had a scout on every hill, and an ear as quick as that of Fine Ear in the fairy tale. The foraging parties of tories and refugees had now to be secret and sudden in their forays into Westchester County ; to make a hasty maraud among the farms, sweep the cattle into a drove, and hurry down to the lines along the river road, or the valley of the Neperan. Before they were half-way down, Jacob Van Tassel, with the holy brotherhood of Tarrytown, Petticoat Lane, and Sleepy Hollow, would be clattering at their heels. And now there would be a general scamper for 16 WOLFERTS ROOSr. King's Bridge, the pass over Spiting Devil Creek, into the British lines. Sometimes the moss- troopers would be overtaken, and eased of part of their booty. Sometimes the whole cavalgada would urge its headlong course across the bridge with thundering tramp and dusty whirlwind. At such times their pursuers would rein up their steeds, survey that perilous pass with wary eye, and, wheeling about, indemnify themselves by foraging the refugee region of Morrisania. While the debatable land was liable to be thus harried, the great Tappan Sea, along which it extends, was likewise domineered over by the foe. British ships of war were anchored here and there in the wide expanses of the river, mere floating castles to hold it in subjection. Stout galleys armed with eighteen pounders, and navigated with sails and oars, cruised about like hawks, while row-boats made descents upon the land, and for- aged the country along shore. It was a sore grievance to the yeomanry along the Tappan Sea to behold that little Mediter- ranean ploughed by hostile prows, and the noble river of which they were so proud reduced to a state of thraldom. Councils of war were held by captains of market-boats and other river-craft, to devise ways and means of dislodging the ene- my. Here and there on a point of land extend- ing into the Tappan Sea, a mud work would be thrown up, and an old field-piece mounted, with which a knot of rustic artillerymen would fire away for a long summer's day at some frigate dozing at anchor far out of reach ; and reliques WOLFERTS ROOST. 17 of such works may still be seen overgrown with weeds and brambles, with perad venture the half- buried fragment of a cannon which may have burst. Jacob Van Tassel was a prominent man in these belligerent operations ; but he was prone, moreover, to carry on a petty warfare of his own for his mdividual recreation and refreshment. On a row of hooks above the fireplace of the Roost, reposed his great piece of ordnance, — a duck, or rather goose-gun, of unparalleled longitude, with wliich it was said he could kill a wild goose half way across the Tappan Sea. Indeed, there are as many wonders told of this renowned gun, as of the enchanted weapons of classic story. When the belligerent feeling was strong upon Jacob, he would take down his gun, sally forth alone, and prowl along shore, dodging behind rocks and trees, watching for hours together any ship or galley at anchor or becalmed, as a valorous mouser will watch a rat-hole. So sure as a boat approached the shore, bang went the great goose-gun, send- ing on board a shower of slugs and buck-shot ; And away scuttled Jacob Van Tassel through some woody ravine. As the Roost stood in a lonely situation, and might be attacked, he guarded against surprise by making loop-holes in the stone walls, through which to fire upon an assailant. His wife v/as stout-hearted as himself, and could load as fast as he could fire ; and his sister, Nochie Van Wurmer, a redoubtable widow, was a match, as he said, for the stoutest man in the country. Thus garrisoned, his little castle was fitted to 2 18 WOLFERTS ROOST. stand a siege, and Jacob was the man to defend it to the last charge of powder. In the process of time the Roost became one of the secret stations, or lurking-places, of the Water Guard. This was an aquatic corps in the pay of government, organized to range the waters of the Hudson, and keep watch upon the move- ments of the enemy. It was composed of nauti- cal men of the river, and hardy youngsters of the adjacent country, expert at pulling an oar or handling a musket. They were provided with whale-boats, long and sharp, shaped like canoes, and formed to lie lightly on the water, and be rowed with great rapidity. In these they would lurk out of sight by day, in nooks and bays, and behind points of land, keeping a sharp look-out upon the British ships, and giving intelligence to head-quarters of any extraordinary movement. At night they rowed about in pairs, pulling quietly along with muffled oars, under shadow of the land, or gliding like spectres about frigates and guard-ships to cut off any boat that might be sent to shore. In this way they were a source of constant uneasiness and alarm to the enemy. The Roost, as has been observed, was one of their lurking-places ; having a cove in front where their whale-boats could be drawn up out of sight, and Jacob Van Tassel being a vigilant ally, ready to take a part in any " scout or scrum- mage " by land or water. At this little warrior nest the hard-riding lads from the hills would hold consultations with the chivalry of the river, WOLFERVS ROOST. 19 and here were concerted divers of those daring enterprises which resounded from Spiting Devil Creek even unto Anthony's Nose. Here was concocted the midnight invasion of New York Island, and the conflagration of Delancy's Tory mansion, which makes such a blaze in revolu- tionary history. Nay, more, if the traditions of the Roost may be credited, here was meditated, by Jacob Van Tassel and his compeers, a noctur- nal foray into New York itself, to surprise and carry off the British commanders, Howe and Clinton, and put a triumphant close to the war. There is no knowing whether this notable scheme might not have been carried into effect, had not one of Jacob Van Tassel's egregious ex- ploits along shore with his goose-gun, with which he thought himself a match for anything, brought vengeance on his house. It so happened, that in the course of one of his solitary prowls he descried a British transport aground ; the stern swung toward shore within point-blank shot. The temptation was too great to be resisted. • Bang ! went the great goose-gun, from the covert of the trees, shivering the cabin- windows and driving all hands forward. Bang ! bang ! the shots were repeated. The reports brought other of Jacob's fellow bush-fighters to the spot. Before the transport could bring a gun to bear, or land a boat to take revenge, she was soundly peppered, and the coast evacuated. This was the last of Jacob's triumphs. He fared like some heroic spider that has unwittingly ensnared a hornet to the utter ruin of his web. 20 WOLFERTS ROOST. It was not long after the above exploit that he fell into the hands of the enemy in the course of one of his forays, and was carried away prisoner to New York. The Roost itself, as a pestilent rebel nest, was marked out for signal punishment. The cock of the Roost being captive, there was none to garrison it but his stout-hearted spouse, his redoubtable sister, Nochie Van Wurmer, and Dinah, a strapping negro wench. An armed ves- sel came to anchor in front ; a boat full of men pulled to shore. The garrison flew to arms ; that is to say, to mops, broomsticks, shovels, tongs, and all kinds of domestic weapons, — for unluckily the great piece of ordnance, the goose-gun, was absent with its owner. Above all, a vigorous defence was made with that most potent of female weap- ons, the tongue. Never did invaded hen-roost make a more vociferous outcry. It was all in vain. The house was sacked and plundered, fire was set to each corner, and in a few moments its blaze shed a baleful light far over the Tappan Sea. The invaders then pounced upon the blooming Laney Van Tassel, the beauty of the Roost, and endeavored to bear her off to the boat. But here was the real tug of war. The mother, the aunt, and the strapping negro wench, all flew to the rescue. The struggle continued down to the very water's edge, when a voice from the armed vessel at anchor ordered the spoilers to desist; they relinquished their prize, jumped into their boats, and pulled off, and the heroine of the Roost escaped with a mere rumpling of her feathers. As to the stout Jacob himself, he was detained « WOLFERTS ROOST. 21 a prisoner in New York for the greater part of the war ; in the mean time the Roost remained a mehmcholy ruin, its stone walls and brick chim- neys alone standing, the resorts of bats and owls. Superstitious notions prevailed about it. None of the country people would venture alone at night down the rambling lane which led to it, overhung with trees, and crossed here and there by a wild wandering brook. The story went that one of the victims of Jacob Van Tassel's great goose-gun had been buried there in unconsecrated ground. Even the Tappan Sea in front was said to be haunted. Often in the still twilight of a summer evenmg, when the sea would be as glass, and the opposite hills would throw their purple shadows half across it, a low sound would be heard as of the steady, vigorous pull of oars, though not a boat was to be descried. Some might have supposed that a boat was rowed along unseen under the deep shadows of the opposite shores ; but the ancient traditionists of the neighborhood knew better. Some said it was one of the whale-boats of the old Water Guard, sunk by the British ships during the war, but now permitted to haunt its old cruising-grounds ; but the prevalent opinion connected it with the awful fate of Rambout Van Dam of graceless memory. He was a roistering Dutchman of Spiting Devil, who in times long oast had navigated his boat alone one Saturday the whole length of the Tappan Sea, to attend a quilting frolic at Kakiat, on the western shore. Here he had danced and drunk until midnight. 22 WOLFERTS BOOST. when he entered his boat to return home. He was warned that he was on the verge of Sunday inorning ; but he pulled off nevertheless, swear- ng he would not land until he reached Spiting Devil, if it took him a month of Sundays. He was never seen afterwards ; but may be heard plying his oars, as above mentioned, — being the Flying Dutchman of the Tappan Sea, doomed to ply between Kakiat and Spiting Devil until the day of judgment. CHRONICLE m. The revolutionary war was over. The debat- able ground had once more become a quiet agri- cultural region ; the border chivalry had turned their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks, and hung up their guns, only to be taken down occasionally in a campaign against wild pigeons on the hills, or wild ducks upon the Hudson. Jacob Van Tassel, whilome carried captive to New York, a flagitious rebel, had come forth from captivity a " hero of seventy- six." In a little while he sought the scenes of his former triumphs and mishaps, rebuilt th<^. Roost, restored his goose-gun to the hooks over the fireplace, and reared once more on high the glittering weathercocks. Years and years passed over the time-honored little mansion. The honeysuckle and the sweet- brier crept up its walls ; the wren and the Phoebe- WOLFERTS ROOST. 23 bird built under the eaves ; it gradually became almost hidden among trees, through which it looked forth, as with half-shut eyes, upon the Tappan Sea. The Indian spring, famous in the days of the wizard sachem, still welled up at the bottom of the green bank ; and the wild brook, wild as ever, came babbling down the ravine, and threw itself into the little cove where of yore the Water Guard harbored their whale-boats. Such was the state of the Roost many years since, at the time when Diedrich Knickerbocker came into this neighborhood, in the course of his researches among the Dutch families for materials for his immortal history. The exterior of the eventful little pile seemed to him full of promise. The crow-step gables were ofthe primitive archi- tecture of the province. The weathercocks which surmounted them had crowed in the glorious days of the New Netherlands. The one above the porch had actually glittered of yore on the great Vander Heyden palace at Albany. The interior of the mansion fulfilled its exter- nal promise. Here were records of old times ; documents of the Dutch dynasty, rescued from the profane hands of the English by Wolfert Acker, when he retreated from New Amsterdam. Here he had treasured them up like buried gold, and here they had been miraculously preserved by St. Nicholas, at the time of the conflagration of the Roost. Here then did old Diedrich Knickerbocker take up his abode for a time, and set to work with antiquarian zeal to decipher these precious docu- 24 WOLFERTS ROOST. ments, which, like the lost books of Livy, had baffled the research of former historians ; and it is the facts drawn from these sources wliich give his work the preference, in point of accuracy, over every other history. It was during his sojourn in this eventful neigh- borhood that the historian is supposed to have picked up many of those legends, which have since been given by him to the world, or found among his papers. Such was the legend con- nected with the old Dutch Church of Sleepy Hollow. The Church itself was a monument of by-gone days. It had been built in the early times of the province. A tablet over the portal bore the names of its founders, — Frederick Filip- son, a mighty man of yore, patroon of Yonkers, and his wife Katrina Van Courtland, of the Van Courtlands of Croton ; a powerful family con- nection, — with one foot resting on Spiting Devil Creek, and the other on the Croton River. Two weathercocks, with the initials of these illustrious personages, gi'aced each end of the Church, one perched over the belfiy, the other over the chancel. As usual with ecclesiastical weather cocks, each pointed a different way ; and there was a pei-petual contradiction between them on all points of windy doctrine ; emblematic, alas ! of the Christian propensity to schism and con- troversy. In the burying-ground adjacent to the Church, reposed the earliest fathers of a wide rural neigh- borhood. Here families were garnei-ed together, side by side, in long platoons, in this last gather- Wolferfs Koost. p. 24. Old Dutch Chureh. WOLFERTS ROOST. 25 ing place of kindred. With pious hand would Diedrich Knickerbocker turn down the weeds and brambles which had overgrown the tombstones, to decipher inscriptions in Dutch and English, of the names and virtues of succeeding generations of Van Tassels, Van Warts, and other liLstorical worthies, with their portraitures faithfully carved, all bearing the family likeness to cherubs. The congregation in those days was of a truly rural character. City fashions had not as yet stole up to Sleepy Hollow. Dutch sun-bonnets and honest homespun still prevailed. Everything was in primitive style, even to the bucket of water and tin cup near the door in summer, to assuage the thirst caused by the heat of the weather or the drought of the sermon. The pulpit, with its wide-spreading sounding- board, and the communion-table, curiously carved, had each come from Holland in the olden time, before the arts had sufficiently advanced in the colony for such achievements. Around these on Sundays would be gathered the elders of the church, gray-headed men, who led the psalmody, and in whom it would be difficult to recognize the hard-riding lads of yore, who scoured the debata- ble land in the time of the revolution. The drowsy influence of Sleepy Hollow was apt to breathe into this sacred edifice ; and now and then an elder might be seen with his hand- kerchief over his face to keep off the flies, and apparently listening to the dominie ; but really sunk into a summer slumber, lulled by the sultry notes of the locust from the neio^hboring trees. 26 WOLFERTS ROOST. And now a word or two about Sleepy Hollow, which many have rashly deemed a fanciful crea- tion, like the Lubberland of mariners. It was probably the mystic and dreamy sound of the name which first tempted the historian of the Manhattoes into its spellbound mazes. As he entered, all nature seemed for the moment to awake from its slumbers and break forth in grat- ulations. The quail whistled a welcome from the cornfield; the loquacious cat-bird flew from bush to bush with restless wing proclaiming his approach, or perked inquisitively into his face as if to get a knowledge of his physiognomy. The woodpecker tapped a tattoo on the hollow apple- tree, and then peered round the trunk, as if ask- ing how he relished the salutation ; while the squiiTel scampered along the fence, wliisking his tail over his head by way of a huzza. Here reigned the golden mean extolled by poets, in which no gold was to be found and very little silver. The inhabitants of the Hollow were of the primitive stock, and had intermarried and bred in and in, from the earliest time of the prov- ince, never swarming far from the parent hive, but dividhig and subdividing their paternal acres as they swarmed. Here were small farms, each having its little portion of meadow and cornfield ; its orchard of gnarled iuid sprawling apple-trees ; its garden, in which the rose, the marigold, and hollyhock, grew sociably with the cabbage, the pea, and the pump- kin ; each had its low-eaved mansion redundant with white-headed children ; with an old hat WOfFERTS BOOST. 27. nailed against the wall for the housekeeping wren ; the coop on the grass-plot, where the motherly- hen clucked round ^vith her vagrant brood : each had its stone well, with a moss-covered bucket suspended to the long balancing - pole, according to antediluvian hydraulics ; while within doors resounded the eternal hum of the spinning-wheel. Many were the great historical facts which the worthy Diedi'ich collected in these lowly man- sions, and patiently would he sit by the old Dutch housewives with a child on his knee, or a purring grimalkin on his lap, listing to endless ghost sto- ries spun forth to the humming accompaniment of the wheel. The delighted historian pursued his explora- tions far into the foldings of the hills where the Pocantico winds its wizard stream among the mazes of its old Indian haunts ; sometimes run- ning darkly in pieces of woodland beneath bal- ancing sprays of beech and chestnut ; sometimes sparkling between grassy borders in fresh, green intervales ; here and there receiving the tributes of silver rills which came whimpering down the hill-sides from tlieir parent springs. In a remote part of the Hollow, where the Pocantico forced its way down rugged rocks, stood Carl's mill, the haunted house of the neigh- borhood. It was indeed a goblin-looking pile ; shattered and time-worn, dismal with clanking wheels and rushing streams, and all kinds of un- couth noises. A horse-shoe nailed to the door to keep off witches, seemed to have lost its power ; 28 W0LFERT8 R^OST. for as Diedrich approached, an old negro thrust his head all dabbled with flour out of a hole above the water-wheel, and grinned and rolled his eyes, and appeared to be the very hobgoblin of the place. Yet this proved to be the great historic genius of the Hollow, abounding in that valuable information never to be acquired from books. Diedrich Knickerbocker soon discovered his merit. They had long talks together seated on a broken millstone, heedless of the water and the clatter of the mill ; and to his conference with that African sage many attribute the sur- prising, though true story, of Ichabod Crane and the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. We refrain, however, from giving farther researches of the historian of the Manhattoes during his sojourn at the Roost, but may return to them in future pages. Keader ! the Roost still exists. Time, which changes all things, is slow in its operations on a Dutchman's dwelling. The stout Jacob Van Tassel, it is true, sleeps with his fathers ; and his great goose-gun with him : yet his strong- hold still bears the impress of its Dutch origin. Odd rumors have gathered about it, as they are apt to do about old mansions, like moss and weather-stains. The shade of Wolfert Acker still walks his unquiet rounds at night in the orchard ; and a white figure has now and then been seen seated at a window and gazing at the moon, from a room in which a young lady is said to have died of love and green apples. Wolferfs Roo*>t, p. -23. The Old Bridtre. WOLFERTS BOOST. 29 Momentos of the sojourn of Diedrich Knick- erbocker are still cherished at the Roost. His elbow-chair and antique wi-iting-desk maintain their place in the room he occupied, and his old cocked-hat still hangs on a peg against the wall. THE BIRDS OF SPRING. Y quiet residence in the country, aloof from fashion, politics, and the money- market, leaves me rather at a loss for occupation, and drives me occasionally to the study of nature, and other low pursuits. Hav- ing few neighbors, also, on whom to keep a watch, and exercise my habits of observation, I am fain to amuse myself with prying into the do- mestic concerns and peculiarities of the animals around me ; and during the present season have derived considerable entertainment from certain sociable little birds, almost the only visitors we have during this early part of the year. Those who have passed the winter in the coun- try are sensible of the delightful influences that accompany the earliest indications of spring ; and of these, none are more delightful than the first notes of the birds. There is one modest little sad-colored bird, much resembling a wren, which came about the house just on the skirts of win- ter, when not a blade of grass was to be seen, and when a few prematurely warm days had given a flattering foretaste of soft weather. He sang early in the dawning, long before sunrise, and late in the evening, just before the closing in of night, his matin and his vesper hymns. It THE BIRDS OF SPRING. 31 is true he sang occasionally throughout the day ; but at these still hours his song was more re- marked. He sat on a leafless tree, just before the window, and warbled forth his notes, few and simple, but singularly sweet, with something of a plaintive tone that heightened their effect. The first morning that he was heard was a joyous one among the young folks of my house- hold. The long, death-like sleep of winter was at an end ; nature was once more awakening ; they now promised themselves the immediate ap- pearance of buds and blossoms. I was reminded of the tempest-tossed crew of Columbus, when after their long dubious voyage the field-birds came singing round the ship, though still far at sea, rejoicing them with the behef of the imme- diate proximity of land. A sharp return of winter almost silenced my little songster, and dashed the hilarity of the household ; yet still he poured forth, now and then, a few plaintive notes, between the frosty pipings of the breeze, like gleams of sunshine between wintry clouds. I have consulted my book of ornithology in vain, to find out the name of this kindly little bird, who certainly deserves honor and favDr far beyond his modest pretensions. He comes like the lowly violet, the most unpretending, but wel- comest of flowers, breathing the sweet promise of the early year. Another of our feathered visitors, who follow close upon the steps of winter, is the Pe-wit, or Pe-wee, or Phoebe-bird ; for he is called by each of these names., from a fancied resemblance to 32 THE BIRDS OF SPRING. tlie sound of liis monotonons note. He is a so- ciable little being, and seeks the habitation of man. A pair of them have built beneath my porch, and have reared several broods there for two years past, — their nest being never disturbed. They arrive early in the spring, just when the crocus and the snow-drop begin to peep forth. Their first chirp spreads gladness through the house. " The Phoebe - birds have come ! " is heard on all sides ; they are welcomed back like members of the family, and speculations are made upon where they have been, and what countries they have seen, during their long absence. Their arrival is the more cheering, as it is pronounced by the old, weather-wise people of the country the sure sign that the severe frosts are at an end, and that the gardener may resume his labors with confidence. About this time, too, arrives the blue-bird, so poetically yet truly described by Wilson. His appearance gladdens the whole landscape. You hear his soft warble in every field. He sociably approaches your habitation, and takes up his resi- dence in your vicinity. But why should I at- tempt to describe him, when I have Wilson's own graphic verses to place him before the reader ? " When winter's cold tempests and snows are no more, Green meadows and brown fuiTOwed fields reappearing, The fishermen hauling their shad to the shore, And cloud-cleaving geese to the lakes are a-steering; When first the lone butterfly flits on the wing, When red glow the maples, so fresh and so pleasing, Oh then comes the bluebird, the herald of spring, And hails with his warblinirs the charms of the season THE BIRDS OF SPRING. 3-^ " The loud-piping frogs make the marshes to ring, Then warm glows the sunshine, and warm grows the weather ; The blue woodland flowers just beginning to spring, And spice-wood and sassafras budding together; Oh then to your gardens, ye housewives, repair. Your walks t)order up, sow and plant at your leisure; The blue-bird will chant from his box such an air, That all your hard toils will seem truly a pleasure ! " He fllits through the orchard, he visits each tree. The red flowering peach, and the apple's sweet blossom; He snaps up destroyers, wherever they be. And seizes the caitilFs that lurk in their bosoms; Ke drags the vile grub from the corn it devours. The worms from the webs where they riot and welter; His song and his services freely are ours, And all that he asks is, in summer a shelter. " The ploughman is pleased Avhen he gleans in his train. Now searching the fuiTows, now mounting to cheer him ; The gard'ner delights in liis sweet simple strain. And leans on his spade to survey and to hear him. The slow, lingering schoolboys forget they '11 be chid, While gazmg intent, as he warbles before them In mantle of sky-blue, and bosom so red, That each little loiterer seems to adore him." The happiest bird of our spring, however, and one that rivals the European lark, in my estima- tion, is the Bobolincon, or Bobolink, as he is commonly called. He arrives at that choice por- tion of our year, which, in this latitude, answers to the description of the month of May so often given by the poets. With us it begins about the middle of JMay, and lasts until nearly the middle of June. Earlier than this, winter is apt to re- turn on its traces, and to blight the opening 34 THE BIRDS OF SPRING. beauties of the year ; and later than this begin the parching, and panting, and dissolving heats of summer. But in this genial interval, nature is in all her freshness and fragrance ; " the rains are over and gone, the flowers appear upon the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land." The trees are now in their fullest foliage and brightest verdure ; the woods are gay with the clustered flowers of the laurel ; the air is perfumed by the sweetbrier and the wild rose ; the meadows are enamelled with clover-blossoms ; while the young apple, the peach, and the plum, begin to swell, and the cherry to glow, among the green leaves. This is the chosen season of revelry of the Bobolink. He comes amidst the pomp and fra- grance of the season ; his life seems all sensibility and enjoyment, all song and sunshine. He is to be found in the soft bosoms of the freshest and sweetest meadows, and is most in song when the clover is in blossom. He perches on the topmost twig of a tree, or on some long, flaunting weed, and, as he rises and sinks with the breeze, pours forth a succession of rich tinkling notes, — crowd- ing one upon another, like the outpouring melody of the skylark, and possessing the same rapturous character. Sometimes he pitches from the sum- mit of a tree, begins his song as soon as he gets upon the wing, and flutters tremulously down to the earth, as if overcome with ecstasy at his own music. Sometimes he is in pursuit of his para- mour ; always in full song, as if he would win her by his melody ; and always with the same appearance of intoxication and delight. THE BIRDS CF SPRING. 35 Of all the birds of our groves and meadows, the Bobolink was the envy of my boyhood. He crossed my path in the sweetest weather, and tlie sweetest season of the year, when all nature called to the fields, and the rural feeling throbbed in every bosom ; but when I, luckless urchin ! was doomed to be mewed up, during the livelong day, in that purgatory of boyhood, a school-room. It seemed as if the little varlet mocked at me as he flew by in full song, and sought to taunt me with his happier lot. Oh, how I envied him ! No lessons, no task, no hateful school ; nothing but holiday frolic, green fields, and fine weather. Had I been then more versed in poetry, I might have addressed him in the words of Logan to the cuckoo, — " Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy note, No winter in thy year. " Oh ! could I fly, I 'd fly with thee; We 'd make, on joyful wing, Our annual visit round the globe, Companions of the spring! " Further observation and experience have given me a different idea of this little feathered volupt- uary, which I will venture to impart, for the benefit of my schoolboy readers, who may regard him with the same unqualified envy and admira- tion which I once indulged. I have shown him, only as I saw him at first, in what I may call the poetical part of his career, when he in a manner 30 THE BIRDS OF SPRING. devoted himself to elegant pursuits and enjoy- ments, and wa^s a bird of music, and song, and taste, and sensibility, and refinement. While this lasted, he was sacred from inj ury ; the very school- boy would not fling a stone at him, and the merest rustic would pause to listen to his strain. But mark the difference. As the year advances, as the clover-blossoms disappear, and the spring fades into summer, he gradually gives up his elegant tastes and habits, doffs his poetical suit of black, assumes a russet dusty garb, and sinks to the gross enjoyments of common vulgar birds. His notes no longer vibrate on the ear ; he is stuffing himself with the seeds of the tall weeds on which he lately swung and chanted so melodiously. He has become a hon vivarit, a gourmand; with him now there is nothing like the "joys of the table." In a little while he grows tired of plain, homely fare, and is off on a gastronomical tour in quest of foreign luxuries. We next hear of him, with myriads of his kind, banqueting among the reeds of the Delaware ; and grown corpulent with good feeding. He has changed his name in trav- elling. Bobolincon no more, — he is the Reed-hird now, the much sought-for titbit of Pennsylvania epicures ; the rival in unlucky fame of the orto- lan ! Wherever he goes, pop ! pop ! pop ! every rusty firelock in the country is blazing away. He sees his companions falling by thousands around him. Does h^ take warning and reform ? Alas, not he ! Incorrigible epicure ! again he wings his flight. The rice-swamps of the South vite him. THE BIRDS OF SPRING. 37 He gorges himself among them almost to burst- ing ; ho can scarcely fly for corpulency. He ha? once more changed his name, and is now the fa- mous Rice-bird of the Carolinas. Last stage of his career: behold him spitted, with dozens of his corpulent companions, and served up, a vaunted dish, on the table of some Southern gastronome. Such is the story of the Bobolink ; once spir- itual, musical, admired ; the joy of the meadows, and the favorite bird of Spring ; finally, a gross little sensualist, who expiates his sensuality in the larder. His story contains a moral worthy the attention of all little birds and little boys ; warn- ing them to keep to those refined and intellectual pursuits which raised him to so high a pitch of popularity during the early part of his career ; but to eschew all tendency to that gross and dis- sipated indulgence which brought this mistaken little bird to an untimely end. Which is all at present, from the well-wisher of little boys and little birds, THE CREOLE VILLAGE. A SKETCH FKOM A STEAMBOAT. [First published in 1837.] |N travelling about our motley country, iws^ sii^Si ^ ^™ often reminded of Ariosto's ac- | k^1»^^] count of the moon, in which the good paladin Astolpho found everything garnered up that had been lost on earth. So I am apt to imagine that many things lost in the Old World are treasured up in the New ; having been handed down from generation to generation, since the early days of the colonies. A European anti- quary, therefore, curious in his researches after the ancient and almost obliterated customs and usages of his country, would do well to put him- self upon the track of some early band of emi- gi'anis, follow them across the Atlantic, and rum- mage among their descendants on our shores. In the phraseology of New England might be found many an old English provincial phrase, long since obsolete in the parent country ; with some quaint relics of the Roundheads ; while Vir- ginia cherishes peculiarities characteristic of the days of Elizabeth and Sir Walter Raleigh. THE CREOLE VILLAGE. 39 In the same way, the sturdy yeomanry of New Jersey and Pennsylvania keep up many usages fading away in ancient Germany ; while many an honest, broad-bottomed custom, nearly extinct in venerable Holland, may be found flourishing in pristine vigor and luxuriance in Dutch villages, on the banks of the Mohawk and the Hudson. In no part of our country, however, are the customs and peculiarities imported from the old world by the earlier settlers kept up with more fidelity than in the little, poverty-stricken villages of Spanish and French origin, which border the rivers of ancient Louisiana. Their population is generally made up of the descendants of those nations, married and interwoven together, and occasionally crossed with a slight dash of the Indian. Tlie French character, however, floats on top, as, fi'om its buoyant qualities, it is sure to do, whenever it forms a particle, however small, of an intermixture. In these serene and dilapidated villages, art and nature stand still, and the world forgets to turn round. The revolutions that distract other parts of this mutable planet, reach not here, or pa-ss over without leaving any trace. The for- tunate inhabitants have none of that public spirit which extends its cares beyond its horizon, and imports trouble and perplexity from all quarters l\\ newspapers. In fact, newspapers are almost unknown in these villages ; and, as French is the current lanofuao-e, the inhabitants have little com- munity of opinion with their republican neighbors. They retain, therefore, their old habits of passive 40 THE CREOLE VILLAGE. obedience to the decrees of government, as though thej still lived under the absolute sway of colonial commandants, instead of being part and parcel of the sovereign people, and having a voice in pub- lic legislation. A few aged men, who have grown gray on their hereditary acres, and are of the good old colonial stock, exert a patriarchal sway in all mat- ters of public and private import ; their opinions are considered oracular, and their word is law. The inhabitants, moreover, have none of that eagerness for gain, and rage for improvement, which keep our people continually on the move, and our country towns incessantly in a state of transition. There the magic phrases, " town lots," " water privileges," " railroads," and other com- prehensive and soul-stirring words from the spec- ulator's vocabulary, are never heard. The resi- dents dwell in the houses built by their forefathers, without thinking of enlarging or modernizing them, or pulling them down and turning them mto granite stores. The trees under which they have been born, and have played in infancy, flour- ish undisturbed ; though, by cutting them down, they might open new streets, and put money in their pockets. In a word, the almighty dollar, that great object of universal devotion through- out our land, seems to have no genuine devotees in these peculiar villages ; and unless some of its missionaries penetrate there, and erect banking' houses and other pious shrines, there is no know- ing how long the inhabitants may remain in their present state of contented poverty. THE CREOLE VILLAGE. 41 In descending one of our great western rivers in a steamboat, I met with two worthies from one of tliese villages, who had been on a distant ex- cursion, the longest they had ever made, as they seldom ventured far from home. One was the great man, or Grand Seigneur of the village ; not that he enjoyed any legal privileges or power there, everything of the kind having been done away when the province was ceded by France to the United States. His sway over his neigh- bors was merely one of custom and convention, out of deference to his family. Beside, he was worth full fifty thousand dollars, an amount al- most equal, in the imaginations of the villagers, to the treasures of King Solomon. This very substantial old gentleman, though of the fourth or fifth generation in this country, retained the true Gallic feature and deportment, and reminded me of one of those provincial poten- tates that are to be met with in the remote parts of France. He was of a large frame, a ginger- bread complexion, strong features, eyes that stood out like glass knobs, and a prominent nose, which he frequently regaled from a gold snuff-box, and occasionally blew with a colored handkerchief, until it sounded like a trumpet. He was attended by an old negro, as black as ebony, with a huge mouth, in a continual grin ; evidently a privileged and favorite servant, who had grown up and grown old with him. He was dressed in Creole style, with white jacket and trousers, a stiff shirt-collar, that threatened to cut »ff his ears, a bright Madras handkerchief tied 42 TEE CREOLE VILLAGE. round his head, and large gold ear-rings. Ho was the politest negro I met with in a western tour, and that is saying a great deal, for, ex- cepting the Indians, the negroes are the most gentlemanlike personages to be met with in those parts. It is true they differ from the Indians in being a little extra polite and complimentary. He was also one of the merriest ; and here, too, the negroes, however we may deplore their un- happy condition, have the advantage of their mas- ters. The whites are, in general, too free and prosperous to be merry. The cares of maintain- ing their rights and liberties, adding to their wealth, and making presidents, engross all their thoughts and dry up all the moisture of their souls. If you hear a broad, hearty, devil-ma;y- care laugh, be assured it is a negro's. Beside this African domestic, the seigneur of the village had anotlier no less cherished and privileged attendant. This was a huge dog, of the mastiff breed, with a deep, hanging mouth, and a look of surly gravity. He walked about the cabin with the air of a dog perfectly at home, and who had paid for his passage. At dinner-time he took his seat beside his master, giving him a glance now and then out of a corner of his eye, which bespoke perfect confidence that he would not be forgotten. Nor was he. Every now and then a huge morsel would be thrown to hiu), per- adventure the half-picked leg of a fowl, which he would receive with a snap like the springing of a steel trap, — one gulp, and all was down ; and a glance of the eye told his master that he was ready for another consignment. THE CREOLE VILLAGE. 43 The Other village worthy, travelling in com- pany with the seigneur, was of a totally different stamp. Small, thin, and weazen-faced, as French- men are apt to be represented in caricature, with a bright, squirrel-like eye, and a gold ring in his ear. His dress was flimsy, and sat loosely on his frame, and he had altogether the look of qne with but little coin in his pocket. Yet, though one of the poorest, I was assured he was one of the merriest and most popular personages in his native village. Compere Martin, as he was commonly called, was the factotum of the place, — sportsman, schoolmaster, and land-surveyor. He could sing, dance, and, above all, play on the fiddle, an in- valuable accomplishment in an old French Creole village, for the inhabitants have a hereditary love for balls and fetes. If they work but little, they dance a great deal ; and a fiddle is the joy of their heart. Wliat had sent Compere Martin travelling with the Grand Seigneur I could not learn. He evi- dently looked up to him with great deference, and was assiduous in rendering him petty attentions ; from which I concluded that he lived at home upon the crumbs which fell from his table. He was gayest when out of his sight, and had his song and his joke when forward among the deck passengers ; but, altogether. Compere Martin was out of his element on board of a steamboat. He was quite another being, I am told, when at home in his own village. Like his opulent fellow-traveller, he too had 44 THE CREOLE VILLAGE. his canine follower and retainer, — and one suited to his different fortunes, — one of the civilest, niost unoffending little dogs in the world. Un- like the lordly mastiff, he seemed to think he had no right on board of the steamboat ; if you did but look hard at him, he would throw himself upon his back, and lift up his legs, as if imploring mercy. At table he took his seat a little distance from his master ; not with the bluff, confident air of the mastiff, but quietly and diffidently ; his head on one side, with one ear dubiously slouched, the other hopefully cocked up ; his under-teeth pro- jecting beyond his black nose, and his eye wist- fully following each morsel that went into his master's mouth. If Compere Martin now and then should ven- ture to abstract a morsel from his plate, 'to give to his humble companion, it was edifying to see with what diffidence the exemplary little animal would take hold of it, with the very tip of his teeth, as if he would almost rather not, or was fearful of taking too great a liberty. And then with what decorum would he eat it ! How many efforts would he make in swallowing it, as if it stuck in his throat ; with what daintiness would he lick his lips ; and then with what an air of thankfulness would he resume his seat, with his teeth once more projecting beyond his nose, and an eye of humble expectation fixed upon his master. It was late in the afternoon when the steam- boat stopped at the village which was the resi- THE CREOLE VILLAGE. 45 dence of these worthies. It stood on the hijih bank of the river, and bore traces of having been a frontier trading-post. There were the remains of stockades that once protected it from the In- dians, and the houses were in the ancient Spanish and French colonial taste, the place having been successively under the domination of both those nations prior to the cession of Louisiana to the United States. The arrival of the seigneur of fifty thousand dollars, and his humble companion, Compere Mar- tin, had evidently been looked forward to as an event in the village. Numbers of men, women, and children, white, yellow, and black, were col- lected on the river bank ; most of them clad in old-fashioned French garments, and their heads decorated with colored handkerchiefs, or white nightcaps. The moment the steamboat came within sight and hearing, there was a waving of handkerchiefs, and a screaming and bawling of salutations and felicitations, that baflEie all de- scription. The old gentleman of fifty thousand dollars was received by a train of relatives, and friends, and children, and grandchildren, whom he kissed on each cheek, and who formed a procession in his rear, with a legion of domestics, of all ages, following him to a large, old-fashioned French house, that domineered over the village. His black valet de chainhre, in white jacket and trousers, and gold ear-rings, was met on the shore by a boon, though rustic companion, a tall negro fellow, with a long, good-humored face, and 46 THE CREOLE VILLAGE. the profile of a horse, which stood out from be- neath a narrow-rimmed straw hat, stuck on the back of his head. The explosions of laughter of these two varlets on meeting and exchanging compliments, were enough to electrify the coun- try round. The most hearty reception, however, was that given to Compere Martin. Everybody, young and old, hailed him before he got to land. Every- body had a joke for Compere Martin, and Com- pere Martin had a joke for everybody. Even his little dog appeared to partake of his popu- larity, and to be caressed by every hand. Indeed, he was quite a different animal the moment he touched the land. Here he was at home ; here he was of consequence. He barked, he leaped, he fi'isked about his old friends, and then would skim round the place in a wide circle, as if mad. I traced Compere Martin and his little dog to their home. It was an old ruinous Spanish house, of large dimensions, with verandas over- shadowed by ancient elms. The house had prob- ably been the residence, in old times, of the Spanish commandant. In one wing of this crazy, but aristocratical abode, was nestled the fimily of my fellow-traveller ; for poor devils are apt to be magnificently clad and lodged, in the cast- off clothes and abandoned palaces of the great and wealthy. The arrival of Compere Martin was welcomed by a legion of women, children, and mongrel curs ; and, as poverty and gayety generally go hand-in-hand among the French and their de- THE CREOLE VILLAGE. 47 Bcendants, the crazy mansion soon resounded with loud gossip and light-hearted laughter. As the steamboat paused a short time at the village, I took occasion to stroll about the place. Most of the houses were in the French tcoste, with casements and rickety verandas, but most of them in flimsy and ruinous condition. All tlie wagons, ploughs, and other utensils about the place were of ancient and inconvenient Gallic construction, such as had been brought from France in the primitive days of the colony. The very looks of the people reminded me of the vil- lages of France. From one of the houses came the hum of a spinning-wheel, accompanied by a scrap of an old French chanson, which I have heard many a time among the peasantry of Languedoc, doubt- less a traditional song, brought over by the first French emigrants, and handed down from genera- tion to generation. Half a dozen young lasses emerged from the adjacent dwellings, reminding me, by their light step and gay costume, of scenes in ancient France, where taste in dress comes natural to every class of females. The trim bodice and colored petti- coat, and little apron, with its pockets to receive the hands when in an attitude for conversation ; the colored kerchief wound tastefully round the head, with a coquetish knot perking above one ear ; and the neat slipper and tight-drawn stock- ing, with its braid of narrow ribbon embracing the ankle where it peeps from its mysterious cur- tain. It is from this ambush that Cupid sends his most incitino- arrows. 43 THE CREOLE VILLAGE. While I was musing upon the recollectiong thus accidentally summoned up, I heard the sound of a fiddle from the mansion of Compere Martin, the signal, no doubt, for a joyous gathering. I was disposed to turn my steps thither, and wit- ness the festivities of one of the very few villages I had met with in my wide tour that was yet poor enough to be merry ; but the bell of the steamboat summoned me to reembark. As we swept away from the shore, I cast back a wistful eye upon the moss-grown roofs and an- cient elms of the village, and prayed that the inhabitants might long retain their happy igno- rance, their absence of all enterprise and im- provement, their respect for the fiddle, and their contempt for the almighty dollar."* I fear, how- ever, my prayer is doomed to be of no avail. In a little while the steamboat whiided me to an American town, just springing into bustling and prosperous existence. The surrounding forest had been laid out in town lots ; frames of wooden buildings were rising from among stumps and burnt trees. The place already boasted a court-house, a jail, and two banks, all built of pine boards, on the model of Grecian temples. There were rival hotels, rival churches, and rival newspapei-s ; together with * This phrase, used for the first time in this sketch, has since passed into cim-ent circulation, and by some has been ques- tioned as savoring of irreverence. The author, therefore, owes it to his ortliodoxy to declare that no irreverence was intended even to the dollar itself; which he is aware is daily becoming more and more an object of worship. THE CREOLE VILLAGE. 49 the usual number of judges and generals and governors ; not to speak of doctors by the dozen, and lawyers by the score. The place, I was told, was in an astonishing career of improvement, with a canal and two railroads in embryo. Lots doubled in price every week ; everybody was speculating in hind ; every- body was rich ; and everybody was growing richer. The community, however, was torn to pieces by new doctrines in religion and in polit- ical economy ; there were camp-meetings, and agrarian meetings ; and an election was at hand, which, it was expected, would throw the whole country into a paroxysm. Alas ! with such an enterprising neighbor, what is to become of the poor little Creole village ! MOUnSITJOY: OR, SOME PASSAGES OUT OF THE LIFE OF A CASTLE- BUILDER. "WAS born among romantic scenery, in one of the wildest parts of the Hudson, which at that time was not so thickly settled as at present. ' My father was descended from one of the old Huguenot families, that came over to this country on the revocation of the Edict of Nantz. He lived in a style of easy, rural independence, on a patrimonial estate that had been for two or three generations in the family. He was an indolent, good-natured man, took the world as it went, and had a kind of laughing philosophy, that parried all rubs and mishaps, and served him in the place of wisdom. This was the part of his character least to my taste ; for I was of an enthusiastic, excitable tem- perament, prone to kindle up with new scliemes and projects, and he was apt to dash my sallying enthusiasm by some unlucky joke ; so that when- ever I was in a glow with any sudden excitement, I stood in mortal dread of his good humor. Yet he indulged me in every vagary, for I was an only son, and of course a personage of impor- tance in the household. I had two sisters oldei MOUNTJOY. 51 than myself, and one younger. The former were educated at New York, under the eye of a maiden aunt ; the latter remained at home, and was my cherished playmate, the companion of my thoughts. We were two imaginative little beings, of quick susceptibility, and prone to see wonders and mys- teries in everything around us. Scarce had we learned to read, when our mother made us holi- day presents of all the nursery literature of the day, which at that time consisted of little books covered with gilt paper, adorned with " cuts," and filled with tales of fairies, giants, and enchanters. What draughts of delightful fiction did we then inhale ! My sister Sophy was of a soft and ten- der nature. She would weep over the woes of the Children in the Wood, or quake at the dark romance of Blue-Beard, and the terrible mys- teries of the blue chamber. But I was all for enterprise and adventure. I burned to emulate the deeds of that heroic prince who delivered the white cat from her enchantment ; or he of no less royal blood and doughty emprise, who broke the charmed slumber of the Beauty in the Wood ! The house in which we lived was just the kind of place to foster such propensities. It wtus a venerable mansion, half villa, half farm-house. The oldest part was of stone, with loopholes for musketry, having served as a family fortress in the time of the Indians. To this there had been made various additions, some of brick, some of wood, according to the exigencies of the moment ; so that it was full of nooks and crooks, and cham- 52 MOUNTJOY. bers of all sorts and sizes. It was buried among willows, eluis, and cherry-trees, and surrounded with roses and hollyhocks, with honeysuckle and sweetbrier clambering about every window. A bi'ood of hereditary pigeons sunned themselves upon the roof; hereditary swallows and martins built about the eaves and chimneys ; and heredi- tary bees hummed about the flower-beds. Under the influence of our story-books every object around us now assumed a new character, and a charmed interest. The wild flowers were no longer the mere ornaments of the fields, or the resorts of the toilful bee ; they were the lurking- places of fairies. We would watch the humming- bird, as it hovered around the trumpet-creeper at our porch, and the butterfly as it flitted up into the blue air, above the sunny tree-tops, and fancy them some of the tiny beings from fairy land. I would call to mind all that I had read of Robin Goodfellow, and his power of transformation. how I envied him that power ! How I longed to be able to compress my form into utter littleness, to ride the bold dragon-fly, swing on the tall bearded grass, follow the ant into his subter- raneous habitation, or dive into the cavernous depths of the honeysuckle ! While I was yet a mere child, I was sent to a daily school, about two miles distant. The school- house was on the edge of a wood, close by a brook overhung with birches, alders, and dwarf-willows We cf the school who lived at some distance came with our dinners put up in little baskets In the intervals of school hours, we would gathei MOUNTS 07. 53 round a spring, under a tuft of hazel-bushes, and have a kind of picnic ; interchanging the rustic dainties with which our provident mothers had fitted us out. Then, when our joyous repast wa.: over, and my companions were disposed for play, I would draw forth one of my cherished story- books, stretch myself on the greensward, and soon lose myself in its bewitching contents. I became an oracle among my schoolmates, on account of my superior erudition, and soon im- parted to them the contagion of my infected fancy. Often in the evening, after school hours, we would sit on the trunk of some fallen tree in the woods, and vie with each other in tellino^ extravao^ant stories, until the whip-poor-will began his nightly moaning, and the fire-flies sparkled in the gloom. Then came the perilous journey homeward. What deliglit we would take in getting up wanton panics, in some dusky part of the wood ; scampering like frightened deer, pausing to take breath, renew- ing the panic, and scampering off again, wild with fictitious terror ! Our greatest trial was to pass a dark, lonely pool, covered with pond-lilies, peopled with bull- frogs and water-snakes, and haunted by two white cranes. Oh ! the terrors of that pond ! How our little hearts would beat, as we approached it ; what fearful glances we would throw around ! And if by chance a plash of a wild duck, or the guttural twang of a bull-frog, struck our ears, as we stole quietly by — away we sped, nor paused iintil completely out of the woods. Then, when 1 reached home, what a world of adventures and 64 MOUNT JOY. imaginaiy terrors would I have to relate to my sister Sopliy ! As I advanced in years, this turn of mind in- creased upon me, and became more confirmed. I abandoned myself to the impulses of a romantic imagination, which controlled my studies, and gave a bias to all my habits. My father observed me continually with a book in my hand, and satisfied himself that I was a profound student ; but what were my studies? Works of fiction, tales of chivalry, voyages of discovery, travels in the East ; everything, in short, that partook of adven- ture and romance. I well remember wilh what zest I entered upon that part of my studies which treated of the heathen mythology, and particularly of the sylvan deities. Then indeed my school- books became dear to me. The neighborhood was well calculated to foster the reveries of a mind like mine. It abounded with solitary retreats, wild streams, solemn forests, and silent valleys. I would ramble about for a whole day, with a volume of Ovid's Metamorphoses in my pocket, and work myself into a kind of self-delusion, so as to identify the surrounding scenes with those of which I had just been reading. I would loiter about a brook that glided through the shadowy depths of the forest, picturing it to myself the haunt of Naiades. I would steal round some bushy copse that opened upon a glade, as if I expected to come suddenly upon Diana and her nymphs ; or to behold Pan and his satyrs bound- ing, with whoop and halloo, through the woodland. I would throw myself, during the panting heata MOUNTJOY. 55 of a summer noon, under the shade of some wide- spreading tree, and muse and dream away the hours, in a state of mental intoxication. I drank in the very light of day, as nectar, and my soul seemed to bathe with ecstasy in the deep blue of a summer sky. In these wanderings nothing occurred to jar my feelings, or bring me back to the realities of life. There is a repose in our mighty forests that gives full scope to the imagination. Now and then I would hear the distant sound of the wood- cutter's axe, or the crash of some tree which he had laid low ; but these noises, echoing along the quiet landscape, could easily be wrought by fancy into harmony with its illusions. In general, how- ever, the woody recesses of the neighborhood were peculiarly wild and unfrequented, I could ramble for a whole day, without coming upon any traces of cultivation. The partridge of the wood scarcely seemed to shun my path, and the squirrel, from his nut-tree, would gaze at me for an instant, with sparkling eye, as if wondering at the unwonted intrusion. I cannot help dwelling on this delicious period of my life ; when as yet I had known no sorrow, nor experienced any worldly care. I have since studied much, both of books and men, and of course have grown too wise to be so easily pleased ; yet with all my wisdom, I must confess I look back with a secret feeling of regret to the days of happy ignorance, before I had begun to be a philosopher. 56 MOUNT JOY. It must be evident that I was in a hopeful training, for one who was to descend into the arena of life, and wrestle with the world. The tutor, also, who superintended my studies, in the more advanced stage of my education, was just fitted to complete the fata morgana which was forming in my mind. His name was Glencoe. He was a pale, melancholy-looking man, about forty years of age ; a native of Scotland, liberally educated, and who had devoted himself to the instruction of youth, from taste rather than neces- sity ; for, as he said, he loved the human heart, and delighted to study it in its earlier impulses. My two elder sisters, having returned home from a city boarding-school, were likewise placed under his care, to direct their reading in history and belles-lettres. We all soon became attached to Glencoe. It is true we were at first somewhat prepossessed against him. His meagre, pallid countenance, his broad pronunciation, his inattention to the little forms of society, and an awkward and embar- rassed manner, on first acquaintance, were much against him ; but we soon discovered that under this unpromising exterior existed the kindest urbanity, the warmest sympathies, the most en- thusiastic benevolence. His mind was ingenious and acute. His reading had been various, but more abstruse than profound ; his memory was stored, on all subjects, with facts, theories, and quotations, and crowded with crude materials for thinking. These, in a moment of excitement, would be, as it were, melted down and poured MOUNTJOY. 57 forth in the lava of a heated imagination. At such moments, the change in the whole man was wonderful. His meagre form would acquire a dignity and grace ; liis long, pale visage would flash with a hectic glow ; his eyes would beam with intense speculation ; and there would be pathetic tones and deep modulations in his voice, that delighted the ear, and spoke movingly to the heart. But what most endeared him to us, was the kindness and sympathy with which he entered into all our interests and wishes. Instead of curbing and checking our young imaginations with the reins of sober reason, he was a little too apt to catch the impulse, and be hurried away with us. He could not withstand the excitement of any sally of feeling or fancy, and was prone to lend heightening tints to the illusive coloring of youth- ful tmticipation. Under his guidance ray sisters and myself soon entered upon a more extended fange of studies ; but while they wandered, with delighted minds, through the wide field of history and belles-let- tres, a nobler walk was opened to my superior intellect. The mind of Glencoe presented a singular mix- ture of philosophy and poetry. He was fond of metaphysics, and prone to indulge in abstract speculations, though his metaphysics were some- what fine spun and fanciful, and his speculations were apt to partake of what my father most irreverently termed "humbug." For my part, I delighted in them, and the more especially be- 58 MOUNTJOY. cause they set my father to sleep, and completely confounded my sisters. I entered, with my accustomed eagerness, into tliis new branch of study. Metaphysics were now my passion. My sisters attempted to accompany me, but they soon faltered, and gave out before they had got half way through " Smith's Theory of Moral Senti- ments." I, however, went on, exulting in my strength. Glencoe supplied me with books, and I devoured them with appetite, if not digestion. We walked and talked together under the trees before the house, or sat apart, like Milton's angels, and held high converse upon themes beyond the grasp of ordinary intellects. Glencoe possessed a kind of philosophic cliivalry, in imitation of the old peripatetic sages, and was continually dream- ing of romantic enterprises in morals, and splendid systems for the improvement of society. He had a fanciful mode of illustrating abstract subjects, peculiarly to my taste ; clothing them with the language of poetry, and throwing round them almost the magic hues of fiction. " How charm- ing," thought I, " is divine philosophy ; " not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, " But a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns." I felt a wonderful self-complacency at being on such excellent terms with a man whom I con- sidered on a parallel with the sages of antiquity, and looked down with a sentiment of pity on the feebler intellects of my sisters, who could compre- hend nothing of metaphysics. It is true, when I MOUNTJOY. 59 attempted to study them by myself I was apt to get in a fog ; but when Glencoe came to my aid, everything was soon as clear to me as day. My ear drank in the beauty of his words ; my imagi> nation was dazzled with the splendor of liis illus- trations. It caught up the sparkling sands of poetry that glittered through his speculations, and mistook them for the golden ore of wisdom. Struck with the facility with which I seemed to imbibe and relish the most abstract doctrines, I conceived a still higher opinion of my mental powers, and was convinced that I also was a phi- losopher. I was now verging toward man's estate, and though my education had been extremely irregu- lar, — following the caprices of my humor, which I mistook for the impulses of my genius, — yet I was regarded with wonder and delight by my mother and sisters, who considered me almost as wise and infallible as I considered myself. This high opinion of me was strengthened by a de- clamatory habit, which made me an oracle and orator at the domestic board. The time was now at hand, however, that was to put my phi- losophy to the test. We had passed through a long winter, and the spring at length opened upon us, with unusual sweetness. The soft serenity of the weather, the beauty of the surrounding country, the joy- ous notes of the birds, the balmy breath of flower and blossom, all combined to fill my bosom with indistinct sensations and nameless 60 MOUNT JOY. wishes. Amid the soft seductions of the season I lapsed into a state of utter indolence, both of body and mind. Philosophy had lost its charms for me. Meta- physics — faugh! I tried to study; took down volume after volume, ran my eye vacantly over a few pages, and threw them by with distaste. I loitered about the house, with my hands in my pockets, and an air of complete vacancy. Some- thing was necessary to make me happy; but what was that something ? I sauntered to the apartments of my sisters, hoping their conversa- tion might amuse me. They had walked out, and the room was vacant. On the table lay a volume which they had been reading. It was a novel. I had never read a novel, having con- ceived a contempt for works of the kind, from hearing them universally condemned. It is true, I had remarked they were universally read ; but I considered them beneath the attention of a philosopher, and never would venture to read them, lest I should lessen my mental superiority in the eyes of my sisters. Nay, I had taken up a work of tlie kind, now and then, when I knew my sisters were observing me, looked into it for a moment, and then laid it down, with a slight supercilious smile. On the present occasion, out of mere listlessness, I took up the volume, and turned over a few of the first pages. I thought I heard some one coming, and laid it down. I was mistaken ; no one was near, and what I had read, tempted my curiosity to read a little ftirther. I leaned against a window-frame, and in a few MOUNTJOY. ' CI minutes was completely lost in the story. How long I stood there reading I know not, but I be- lieve for nearly two hours. Suddenly I heard my sisters on the stairs, when I thrust the book into my bosom, and the two other volumes, which lay near, into my pockets, and hurried out of the house to my beloved woods. Here I remained all day beneath the trees, bewildered, bewitched ; devouring the contents of these delicious volumes ; and only returned to the house when it was too dark to peruse their pages. This novel finished, I replaced it in my sister's apartment, and looked for others. Their stock was ample, for they had brought home all that were current in the city ; but my appetite de- manded an immense supply. All this course of reading was carried on clandestinely, for I was a little ashamed of it, and fearful that my wisdom might be called in question ; but this very privacy gave it additional zest. It was " bread eaten in secret " ; it had the charm of a private amour. But think what must have been the effect of such a course of reading on a youth of my tem- perament and turn of mind ; indulged, too, amidst romantic scenery, and in the romantic season of the year. It seemed as if I had entered upon a new scene of existence. A train of combustible feelings were lighted up in me, and my soul was all tenderness and passion. Never was youth more completely love-sick, though as yet it was a mere general sentiment, and wanted a definite object. Unfortunately, our neighborhood was particularly deficient in female society, and I Ian- 62 • MOUNT JOY. guished in vain for some divinity, to whom I might offer up this most uneasy burden of affec- tions. I was at one time seriously enamored of a lady whom I saw occasionally in my rides, reading at the window of a country-seat, and actually serenaded her with my flute ; when, to my confusion, I discovered that she was old enough to be my mother. It was a sad damper to my romance ; especially as my father heard of it, and made it the subject of one of those household jokes, which he was apt to serve up at every meal-time. I soon recovered from this check, however, but it was only to relapse into a state of amorous excitement. I passed whole days in the fields, and along the brooks ; for there is something in the tender passion that makes us alive to the beauties of Nature. A soft sunshine morning infused a sort of rapture into my breast ; I^flung open my arms, like the Grecian youth in Ovid, as if I would take in and embrace the balmy atmosphere.* The song of the birds melted me to tenderness. I would lie by the side of some rivulet for hours, and form garlands of the flowers on its banks, and muse on ideal beauties, and sigh from the crowd of undefined emotions that swelled my bosom. In this state of amorous delirium, I was stroll- ing one morning alonsj a beautiful wild brook which I had discovered in a glen. There was one place where a small waterfall, leaping from among rocks into a natural basin, made a scene such as a poet might have chosen as the haunt * Ovid's Metamor piloses, Book vii. MOUNT JOY. 63 of some shy Naiad. It was here I usually re- tired to banquet on my novels. In visiting the place this morning, I traced distinctly, on the margin of the basin, which was of fine clear sand, the prints of a female foot, of the most slender and delicate proportions. This was sufficient for an imagination like mine. Robinson Crusoe him- self, when he discovered the print of a savage foot on the beach of his lonely island, could not have been more suddenly assailed with thick- coming fancies. I endeavored to track the steps, but they only passed for a few paces along the fine sand, and then were lost amono- the herbage. I remained gazing in reverie upon this passing trace of love- liness. It evidently was not made by any of my sisters, for they knew nothing of this haunt ; besides, the foot was smaller than theirs ; it was remarkable for its beautiful delicacy. My eye accidentally caught two or three half- withered wild flowers, lying on the ground. The unknown nymph had doubtless dropped them from her bosom ! Here was a new document of taste and sentiment. I treasured them up as invaluable relics. The place, too, where I found them, was remarkably picturesque, and the most beautiful part of the brook. It was overhung with a fine elm, entwined with grape-vines. She who could select such a spot, who could delight in wild brooks, and wild flowers, and silent solitudes, must have fancy, and feeling, and ten- derness ; and, with all these qualities, she must oe beautiful ! 61 MOUNTJOY. But who could be this Unknown, that had thus passed by, as in a morning dream, leaving merely flowers and fairy footsteps to tell of her loveliness ! There was a mystery in it that be- wildered me. It was so vague and disembodied, like those " airy tongues that syllable men's names " in solitude. Every attempt to solve the mystery was vain. I could hear of no being in the neighborhood to whom this trace could be ascribed. I haunted the spot, and became more and more enamored. Never, surely, was passion more pure and spiritual, and never lover in more dubious situation. My case could only be com- pared with that of the amorous prince, in the fairy tale of " Cinderella ; " but he had a glass slipper on which to lavish his tenderness. I, alas ! was in love with a footstep ! . The imagination is alternately a cheat and a dupe ; nay, more, it is the most subtle of cheats, for it cheats itself, and becomes the dupe of its own delusions. It conjures up " airy nothings," gives to them a " local habitation and a name," and then bows to their control as implicitly as if they were realities. Such was now my case. The good Numa could not more thoroughly have persuaded himself that the nymph Egeria hovered about her sacred fountain, and communed with him in spirit, than I had deceived myself into a kind of visionary intercourse with the airy phan- tom fabricated in my brain. I constructed a rustic seat at the foot of the tree where I had iiscovered the footsteps. I made a kind of bower MOUNTJOY. 65 there, where I used to pass my mornings, reading poetry and romances. I carved hearts and darts on the tree, and hung it witli gadands. My heart was full to overflowing, and wanted some faithful bosom into which it might relieve itself. What is a lover without a confidante ? I thought at once of my sister Sophy, my early playmate, the sister of my affections. She was so reasona- ble, too, and of such correct feelings, always lis- tening to my words as oracular sayings, and admiring my scraps of poetry, as the very inspi- rations of the Muse. From such a devoted, such a rational being, what secrets could I have ? I accordingly took her, one morning, to my favorite retreat. She looked around, with de- lighted surprise, upon the rustic seat, the bower, the tree carved with emblems of the tender pas- sion. She turned her eyes upon me to inquire the meaning. " Oh, Sophy," exclaimed I, clasping both her hands in mine, and looking earnestly in her face, " I am in love ! " She started with surprise. " Sit down," said I, " and I will tell you all." She seated herself upon the rustic bench, and I went into a full history of the footstep, with all the associations of idea that had been conjured up by my imagination. Sophy was enchanted ; it was like a fairy tale : she had read of such mysterious visitations in books, and the loves thus conceived were always for beings of superior order, and were always 5 66 MOVNTJOY. happy. She caught the illusion, in all its force her cheek glowed ; her eye brightened. " I dare say she 's pretty," said Sophy. " Pretty ! " echoed I, " she is beautiful ! " 1 went through all the reasoning by which I had logically proved the fact to my own satisfaction. I dwelt upon the evidences of her taste, her sen- sibility to the beauties of Nature ; her soft medi- tative habit, that delighted in solitude ; " oh," said I, clasping my hands, " to have such a companion to wander through these scenes ; to sit with her by this murmuring stream ; to wreathe garlands round her brows ; to hear the music of her voice mingling with the whisperings of these groves ; " " Delightful ! delightful ! " cried Sophy ; " what a sweet creature she must be ! She is just the friend I want. How I shall dote upon her ! Oh, my dear brother ! you must not keep her all to yourself You must let me have some share of her ! " I caught her to my bosom : " You shall — you shall ! " cried I, " my dear Sophy ; we will all live for each other ! " The conversation with Sophy heightened the illusions of my mind ; and the manner in which she had treated my day-dream, identified it with facts and persons, and gave it still more the stamp of reality. I walked about as one in a trance, heedless of the world around, and lapped in an elysium of the fancy. In this mood I met, one morning, with Glencoe. MOUNTJOT. G7 He accosted me \vltli his usual smile, and was pro- ceeding with some general observations, but paused and fixed on me an inquiring eye. " What is the matter with you ? " said he ; " you seem agitated ; has anything in particular happened ? " " Nothing," said I, hesitating ; " at least nothing worth communicating to you." " Nay, my dear young friend," said he, " what- ever is of sufficient importance to agitate you, is worthy of being communicated to me." " Weil ; but my thoughts are running on vrhat you would think a frivolous subject." " No subject is frivolous that has the power to awaken strong feelings." " What think you," said I, hesitating, " what think you of love ? " Glencoe almost started at the question. " Do you call that a frivolous subject ? " replied he. " Believe me, there is none fraught with such deep, such vital interest. If you talk, indeed, of the capricious inclination awakened by tiie mere charm of perishable beauty, I grant it to be idle in the extreme ; but that love which springs from the concordant sympathies of virtuous hearts ; that love which is awakened by the perception of moral excellence, and fed by meditation on intellectual as well as personal beauty ; that is a passion which refines and ennobles the human heart. Oh, where is there a sight more nearly approaching to tlie intercourse of angels, than that of two young beings, free from the sins and follies of the world, mingling pure thoughts, and looks, and feelings, 68 MOUNT JOY. and becoming as it were soul of one soul, and heart of one heart ! How exquisite the silent converse that they hold ; the soft devotion of the eye, that needs no words to make it eloquent ! Yes, my friend, if there be anything in this weary world worthy of heaven, it is the pure bliss of such a mutual affection ! " The words of my worthy tutor overcame all ftirther reserve. " Mr. Glencoe," cried I, blush- ing still deeper, " I am in love ! " "And is that what you were ashamed to tell me ? Oh, never seek to conceal from your friend so important a secret. If your passion be un- worthy, it is for the steady hand of friendship to pluck it forth ; if honorable, none but an enemy would seek to stifle it. On nothing does the character and happiness so much depend, as on the first affection of the heart. Were you caught by some fleeting or superficial charm — a bright eye, a blooming cheek, a soft voice, or a voluptuous form — I would warn you to beware ; I would tell you that beauty is but a passing gleam of the morning, a perishable flower ; that p.ccident may becloud and blight it, and that at best it must soon pass away. But were you in love with such a one as I could describe ; young in years, but still younger in feelings ; lovely in person, but as a type of the mind's beauty ; soft .n voice, in token of gentleness of spirit ; bloom- *ng in countenance, like the rosy tints of morning kindling with the promise of a genial day ; an eye beaming witli the benignity of a happy heart ; a cheerful temper, alive to all kind impulses, and MOUNTJOY. 69 frankly difFusiiig its own felicity ; a self-poised mind, that needs not lean on others for support ; an elegant taste, that can embellish solitude, and furnish out its own enjoyments " " My dear sir," cried I, for I could contain myself no longer, "you have described the very person ! " " Why then, my dear young friend," said he, affectionately pressing my hand, " in God's name, love on ! " For the remainder of the day I was in some such state of dreamy beatitude as a Turk is said to enjoy, when under the influence of opium. It must be already manifest, how prone I was to be- wilder myself with picturings of the fancy, so as to confound them with existing realities. In the present instance Sophy and Glencoe had con- tributed to promote the transient delusion. Sophy, dear girl, had as usual joined with me in my castle- building, and indulged in the same train of imagniings, while Glencoe, duped by my enthusi- asm, firmly believed that I spoke of a being I had seen and known. By their sympathy with my feelings, they in a manner became associated with the Unknown in my mind, and thus linked her with the circle of my intimacy. In the evening our family party was assembled in the hall, to enjoy the refreshing breeze. Sophy was playing some favorite Scotch airs on the piano, while Glencoe, seated apart, with his forehead resting on his hand, was buried in one of those pensive reveries, that made him so Interestino; to me. 70 MOUNT JOY. " What a fortunate being I am ! " thought I, " blessed with such a sister and such a friend ! I have only to find out this amiable Unknown, to wed her, and be happy ! What a paradise will be my home, graced with a partner of such ex- quisite refinement ! It will be a perfect fairy bower, buried among sweets and roses. Sophy shall live with us, and be the companion of all our enjoyments. Glencoe, too, shall no more be the solitary being that he now appears. He shall have a home with us. He shall have his study, where, when he pleases, he may shut himself up from the world, and bury himself in his own re- flections. His retreat shall be held sacred ; no one shall intrude there ; no one but myself^ who will visit him now and then, in his seclusion, where we will devise grand schemes together for the improvement of mankind. How delightfully our days will pass, in a round of rational pleasures and elegant employments ! Sometimes we will have music ; sometimes we will read ; sometimes we will wander through the flower-garden, when I will smile with complacency on every flower my wife has planted ; while in the long winter even- ings, the ladies will sit at their work and listen, with hushed attention, to Glencoe and myself, as we discuss the abstruse doctrines of metaphysics." From this delectable reverie I was startled by my father's slapping me on the shoulder : " What possesses the lad ? " cried he ; " here have I been speaking to you half a dozen times, without re- ceiving an answer." " Pardon me, sir," replied I ; " I was so com- Dletely lost in thought, that I did not hear vou." MOUNT JOY. 71 " Lost in thought ! And pray what were you thinking of? Some of your philosophy, I sup- pose." " Upon my word," said my sister Charlotte, with an arch laugh, " I suspect Harry 's in love again." "And if I were in love, Charlotte," said I, somewhat nettled, and recollecting Glencoe's en- thusiastic eulogy of the passion, " if I were in love, is that a matter of jest and laughter ? Is the tenderest and most fervid affection that can animate the human breast to be made a matter of cold-hearted ridicule ? " My sister colored. " Certainly not, brother ! nor did I mean to make it so, nor to say any- thing that should wound your feelings. Had I really suspected that you had formed some gen- uine attachment, it would have been sacred in my eyes; but — but," said she, smiling, as if at some whimsical recollection, " I thought that you — you might be indulging in another little freak of the imagination." " I '11 wager any money," cried my father, " he has fallen in love again with some old lady at a wmdow ! " " Oh no ! " cried my dear sister Sophy, with the most gracious warmth ; " she is young and beau- tiful." " From what I understand," said Glencoe, rous- ing himself, " she must be lovely in mind as in person." I found my friends were getting me into a fine scrape. I began to perspire at every pore, and felt my ears tingle. 72 MOUNT JOY. " Well, but," cried my father, " who is she ? — what is she ? Let us hear something about her." This was no time to explain so delicate a mat- ter. I caught up my hat, and vanished out of the house. The moment I was in the open air, and alone, my heart upbraided me. Was this respectful treatment to my father — to such a father too — who had always regarded me as the pride of his age — the staff of his hopes ? It is true, he was apt, sometimes, to laugh at my enthusiastic flights, and did not treat my philosophy with due respect ; but when had he ever thwarted a wish of my heart? Was I then to act with reserve toward him, in a matter which might affect the whole current of my future life ? "I have done wrong." thought I; "but it is not too late to remedy it. I will hasten back, and open my whole heart to my father ! " I returned accordingly, and was just on tlie point of entering the house, with my heart full of filial piety, and a contrite speech upon my lips, when I heard a burst of obstreperous laughter from my father, and a loud titter from my two elder sisters. "A footstep ! " shouted he, as soon as he could recover himself ; " in love with a footstep ! why, this beats the old lady at the window I " And then there was another appalling burst of laughter. Had it been a clap of thunder, it could hardly have astounded me more completely. Sophy, in the simplicity of her heart, had told all, and had set my father's risible propensities in full action. MOUNTJOY. 73 Never was poor mortal so thoroughly crest- fallen as myself. The whole delusion was at an end. I drew off silently from the house, shrink- ing smaller and smaller at every fresh peal of laughter ; and, wandering about until the family had retired, stole quietly to my bed. Scarce any sleep, however, visited my eyes that night. I lay overwhelmed with mortification, and meditat- ing how I might meet the flimily in the morning. The idea of ridicule was always intolerable to me ; but to endure it on a subject by which my feelings had been so much excited, seemed worse than death. I almost determined, at one time, to get up, saddle my horse, and ride off, I knew not whither. At length I came to a resolution. Before going down to breakfast I sent for Sophy, and employed her as an ambassador to treat formally in the matter. I insisted that the subject should be buried in oblivion ; otherwise I would not show my face at table. It was readily agreed to ; for not one of the family would have given me pain for the world. They faithfully kept their promise. Not a word was said of the matter : but there were wry faces, and suppressed titters, that went to my soul ; and whenever my father looked me in the face, it was with such a tragic-comical leer — such an attempt to pull down a serious brow upon a whimsical mouth — that I had a thousand times rather he had laughed outright. For a day or two after the mortifying occur- rence mentioned, I kept as much as possible out 74 MOUNTJOY. of the way of the family, and wandered about the fields and woods by myself. I was sadly out of tune : my feelings were all jarred and unstrung. The birds sang from every grove, but I took no pleasure in their melody ; and the flowers of the field bloomed unheeded around me. To be crossed in love is bad enough ; but then one can fly to poetry for relief, and turn one's woes to account in soul-subduing stanzas. But to have one's whole passion, object and all, annihilated, dis- pelled, proved to be such stuff as dreams are made of, or, worse than all, to be turned into a proverb and a jest — what consolation is there in such a case ? I avoided tlie fatal brook where I had seen the footstep. My favorite resort was now the banks of the Hudson, where I sat upon the rocks and mused upon the current that dimpled by, or the waves that laved the shore ; or watched the bright mutations of tlie clouds, and the _shifthig lights and shadows of the distant mountain. By de- grees a returning serenity stole over my feelings ; and a sigh now and then, gentle and easy, and unattended by pain, showed that my heart was recovering its susceptibility. As I was sitting in this musing mood, my eye became gradually fixed upon an object that was borne along by the tide. It proved to be a little pinnace, beautifully modelled, and gayly painted and decorated. It was an unusual sight in this neighborhood, which was rather lonely : indeed it was rare to see any pleasure-barks in this part of the river. As it drew nearer, I perceived that MOUNTS OY. 75 there was no one on board ; it had apparently drifted fj'om its anchorage. There was not a breath of air : the little bark came floating along on the glassy stream, Avheeling about with the eddies. At length it ran aground, almost at the foot of the rock on which I was seated. I descended to the margin of the river, and draw- ing the bark to shore, admired its light and ele- gant proportions, and the taste with which it was fitted up. The benches were covered with cush- ions, and its long streamer was of silk. On one of the cushions lay a lady's glove, of delicate size and shape, with beautifully tapered fingers. I instantly seized it and thrust it in my bosom : it seemed a match for the fairy footstep that had so fascinated me. In a moment all the romance of my bosom was again in a glow. Here was one of the very inci- dents of fairy tale : a bark sent by some invisible power, some good genius, or benevolent fairy, to \vaft me to some delectable adventure. I recol- lected something of an enchanted bark, drawn by white swans, that conveyed a knight down the current of the Rhine, on some enterprise con- nected with love and beauty. The glove, too, showed that there was a lady fair concerned in the present adventure. It might be a gauntlet of defiance, to dare me to the enterprise. In the spirit of romance, and the whim of the moment, I sprang on board, hoisted the light sail, and pushed from shore. As if breathed by some presiding power, a light breeze at that moment sprang up, swelled out the sail, and dallied with 76 MOUNTJOY. the silken streamer. For a time I glided along under steep umbrageous banks, or across deep sequestered bays ; and then stood out over a wide expansion of the river, toward a high rocky prom- ontory. It was a lovely evening : the sun was setting in a congregation of clouds that threw the whole heavens in a glow, and were reflected in the river. I delighted myself with all kinds of fantastic fancies, as to what enchanted island, or mystic bower, or necromantic palace, I was to be conveyed by the fairy bark. In the revel of my fancy, I had not noticed that the goro;eous conQ-reiration of clouds which had so much delighted me, was, in fact, a gathering thun- der-gust. I perceived the truth too late. The clouds came hurrying on, darkening as they ad- vanced. The whole face of Nature was suddenly changed, and assumed that baleful and livid tint predictive of a storm. I tried to gain the shore ; but, before I could reach it, a blast of wind struck the water, and lashed it at once into foam. The next moment it overtook the boat. Alas ! I was nothing of a sailor ; and my protecting fairy for- sook me in the moment of peril. I endeavored to lower the sail, but in so doing I had to quit the helm ; the bark was overturned in an instant, and I was thrown into the water. I endeavored to cling to the wreck, but missed my hold : being a poor swimmer, I soon found myself sinking, but grasped a light oar that was floating by me. It was not sufficient for my support : I again sank beneath the surface ; there was a rushing and bubbling sound in my ears, and all sense forsook me. MOUNTJOY. 77 How long I remaiiied insensible, I know not. I had a confused notion of being moved and tossed about, and of hearing strange beings and strange voices around me ; but all was like a hideous dream, Wlien I at length recovered full con- sciousness and perception, I found myself in bed, in a spacious chamber, furnished with more taste than I had been accustomed to. The bright rays of a morning sun were intercepted by curtains of a delicate rose color, that gave a soft, voluptuous tinge to every object. Not fiir from my bed, on a classic tripod, was a basket of beautiful exotic flowers, breathing the sweetest fragrance. " Where am I ? How came I here ? " I tasked my mind to catch at some previous event, from which I might trace up the thread of existence to the present moment. By degrees I called to mind the fairy pinnace, my daring em- barkation, my adventurous voyage, and my dis- astrous shipwreck. Beyond that all was chaos. How came I here ? What unknown region had I landed upon ? The people that inhabited it must be gentle and amiable, and of elegant tastes, for they loved downy beds, fragrant flowers, and rose-colored curtains. While I lay thus musing, the tones of a harp reached my ear. Presently they were accom- panied by a female voice. It came from the room below ; but in the profound stillness of my cham- ber not a modulation was lost. My sisters were all considered good musicians, and sang very tol- erably ; but I had never heard a voice like this. There was no attempt at difficult execution, or 78 MOUNTJOT. striking effect ; but there were exquisite inflex- ions, and tender turns, which art could not reach. Nothing but feehng and sentiment could produce them. It was soul breathed forth in sound. I was always alive to the influence of music ; in- deed I was susceptible of voluptuous influences of every kind, — sounds, colors, shapes, and fra- grant odors. I was the very slave of sensation. I lay mute and breathless, and draiik in every note of this siren strain. It thrilled through my whole frame, and filled my soul with melody and love. I pictured to myself, with curious logic, the form of the unseen musician. Such melodi- ous sounds and exquisite inflexions could only be produced by organs of the most delicate flexibil- ity. Such organs do not belong to coarse, vulgar forms ; they are the harmonious results of fair proportions and admirable symmetry. A being so organized must be lovely. Again my busy imagination was at work. I called to mind the Arabian story of a prince, borne away during sleep by a good genius, to the distant abode of a princess of ravishing beauty. I do not pretend to say that I believed in having experienced a similar transportation ; but it was my inveterate habit to cheat myself with fancies of the kind, and to give the tinge of illusion to surrounding realities. The witching sound had ceased, but its vibra- tions still played round my heart, and filled it with a tumult of soft emotions. At this moment a self-upbraiding pang shot through my bosom. " Ah, recreant ! " a voice seemed to exclaim, " ia MOUNTJOY. 79 this the stability of thine affections ? What ! hast thoii so soon forgotten the nymph of the fountain ? Has one song, idly piped in thine ear, been sufficient to charm away the cherished tenderness of a whole summer ? " The wise may smile ; but I am in a confiding mood, and must confess my weakness. I felt a degree of compunction at this sudden infidelity, yet I could not resist the power of present fasci- nation. My peace of mind was destroyed by con- flicting claims. The nymph of the fountani came over my memory, with all the associations of fairy footsteps, shady groves, soft echoes, and wild streamlets; but this new passion was produced by a strain of soul-subduing melody, still linger- ing in my ear, aided by a downy bed, fragrant flowers, and rose-colored curtains. " Unhappy youth ! " sighed I to myself, " distracted by such rival passions, and the empire of thy heart thus violently contested by the sound of a voice and the print of a footstep ! " I had not remained long in this mood, when I heard the door of the room gently opened. I turned my head to see what inhabitant of this enchanted palace should appear ; whether page in green, hideous dwarf, or haggard fairy. It was my own man Scipio. He advanced with cautious step, and was delighted, as he said, to find me so much myself again. My first ques- tions were as to where I was, and how I came there ? Scipio told me a long story of his having been fishing in a canoe, at the time of my hare- 80 MOUNTJOY. brained cruise ; of his noticing the gathering squall, and my impending danger ; of his hasten- ing to joni me, but arriving just in time to snatch me from a watery grave ; of the great difficulty in restoring me to animation ; and of my being subsequently conveyed, in a state of insensibility, to this mansion. " But where am I ? " was the reiterated de- mand. " In the house of Mr. Somerville." " Somerville — Somerville ! " I recollected to have heard that a gentleman of that name had recently taken up his^ residence at some distance from my father's abode, on the opposite side of the Hudson. He was commonly known by the name of " French Somerville," from having passed part of his early life in France, and fi-om his ex- hibiting traces of French taste in his mode of living and the arrangements of his house. In ■^act, it was in his pleasure-boat, which had got adrift, that I had made my fanciful and disastrous cruise. All this was simple, straightforward mat- ter of fact, and threatened to demolish all the cobweb romance I had been spinning, when for- tunately I again heard the tinkling of a harp. I raised myself in bed, and listened. " Scipio," said I, with some little hesitation, " I heard some one singing just now. Who was it?" " Oh, that was Miss Julia." " Julia ! Julia ! Delightful ! what a name ! And, Scipio — is she — is she pretty ? " Scipio grinned fi'om ear to ear. " Except Miss MOUNTJOY. 81 Sophy, slie was the most beautiful young lady he had ever seen." I should observe, that my sister Sophia was -.onsidered by all the servants a paragon of per- fection. Scipio now offered to remove the basket of flowers ; he was afraid their odor might be too powerful ; but Miss Julia had given them that morning to be placed in my room. These flowers, then, had been gathered by the fairy fingers of my unseen beauty ; that sweet breath which had filled my ear with melody, had passed over them. I made Scipio hand them to me, culled several of the most delicate, and laid them on my bosom. Mr. Somerville paid me a visit not long after- ward. He was an interesting study for me, for he was the father of my unseen beauty, and probably resembled her. I scanned him closely. He was a tall and elegant man, with an open, affable manner, and an erect and graceful car- riage. His eyes were bluish-gray, and, though not dark, yet at times were sparkling and ex- pressive. His hair was dressed and powdered, and being lightly combed up from his forehead, added to the loftiness of his aspect. He was fluent in discourse, but his conversation had the quiet tone of polished society, without any of those bold flights of thought, and picturings of fancy, which I so much admired. My imagination was a little puzzled, at first, to make out of this assemblage of personal and mental qualities, a picture that should harmonize 82 MOUNTJOY. with my previous idea of the fair unseen. By dint, however, of selecting what it liked, and rejecting what it did not like, and giving a touch here and a touch there, it soon finished out a satisfactory portrait. "Julia must be tall," thought I, "and of ex- quisite grace and dignity. She is not quite so courtly as her father, for she has been brought up in the retirement of the country. Neither is she of such vivacious deportment ; for the tones of her voice are soft and plaintive, and she loves pathetic music. She is rather pensive — yet not too pensive; just what is called interesting. Her eyes are like her father's, except that they are of a purer blue, and more tender and languishing. She has light hair — not exactly flaxen, for 1 do not like flaxen hair, but between that and auburn. In a word, she is a tall, elegant, im- posing, languishing, blue-eyed, romantic-looking beauty." And having thus finished her picture, I felt ten times more in love with her than ever. I felt so much recovered, that I would at once have left my room, but Mr. Somerville objected to it. He had sent early word to my family of my safety ; and my father arrived in the course of the morning. He was shocked at learning the risk I had run, but rejoiced to find me so much restored, and was warm in his thanks to Mr. Somerville for his kindness. The other only required, in return, that I might remain two or three days as his guest, to give time for my recov- ery, and for our forming a closer acquaintance ; MOUNTJOY. 83 a request which my father readily granted. Scipio accordingly accompanied my father home, and returned with a supply of clothes, and with affec- tionate letters from my mother and sisters. The next morning, aided by Scipio, I made my toilet with rather more care than usual, and de- scended the stairs with some trepidation, eager to see the original of the portrait which had been so completely pictured in my imagination. On entering the parlor, I found it deserted. Like the rest of the house, it was furnished in a foreign style. The curtains were of French silk ; there were Grecian couches, marble tables, pier- glasses, and chandeliers. What chiefly attracted my eye, were documents of female taste that I saw around me, — a piano, with an ample stock of Italian music ; a book of poetry lying on the sofa ; a vase of fresh flowers on a table, and a portfolio open with a skilful and half-finished sketch of them. In the window was a Canary bird, in a gilt cage ; and near by, the harp that had been in Julia's arms. Happy harp ! But where was the being that reigned in this little empire of delicacies ? — that breathed poetry and song, and dwelt among birds and flowers, and rose-colored curtaiiis ? Suddenly I heard the hall-door fly open, the quick pattering of light steps, a wild, capricious strain of music, and the shrill barking of a dog. A light frolic nymph of fifteen came tripping into the room, playing on a flageolet, with a little spaniel ramping after her. Her gypsy-hat had fallen back upon her shoulders ; a profusion of 84 MOUNTJOY. glossy brown hair was blown in rich ringlets about her face, which beamed through them with the brightness of smiles and dimples. At sight of me she stopped short, in the most beautiful confusion, stammered out a word or two about looking for her father, glided out of the door, and I heard her bounding up the staircase, like a frightened fawn, with the little dog barking after her. When Miss Somerville returned to the parlor, she was quite a different being. She entered, stealing along by her mother's side, with noiseless step and sweet timidity ; her hair was prettily adjusted, and a soft blush mantled on her damask cheek. Mr. Somerville accompanied the ladies, and introduced me regularly to them. There were many kind inquiries, and much sympathy expressed on the subject of my nautical accident, and some remarks upon the wild scenery of the neighborhood, with which the ladies seemed per- fectly acquainted. " You must know," said Mr. Somerville, " that we are great navigators, jmd delight in exploring every nook and corner of the river. My daugh- ter, too, is a great hunter of the picturesque, and transfers every rock and glen to Jier portfolio. By the way, my dear, show Mr. Mountjoy that pretty scene you have lately sketched." Julia complied, blushing, and drew from her portfolio a colored sketch. I almost started at the sight. It was my favorite brook. A sudden thought darted across my mind. I glanced down my eye, and beheld the divinest little foot in the world. Oh, MOUNTS OY. 85 blissful conviction ! The struggle of my affec- tions was at an end. The voice and the footstep were no longer at variance. Julia Somerville was the nymph of the fountain ! What conversation passed during breakfast I do not recollect, and hardly was conscious of at the time, for my thoughts were in complete con- fusion. I wished to gaze on Miss Somerville, but did not dare. Once, indeed, I ventured a glance. She was at that moment darting a simi- lar one from under a covert of ringlets. Our eyes seemed shocked by the rencontre, and fell ; hers through the natural modesty of her sex, mine through a bashfulness produced by the pre- vious workings of my imagination. That glance, however, went like a sunbeam to my heart. A convenient mirror favored my diffidence, and gave me the reflection of Miss Soraerville's form. It is true it only presented the back of her head, but she had the merit of an ancient statue ; con- template her from any point of view, she was beautiful. And yet she was totally different from everything I had before conceived of beauty. She was not the serene, meditative maid that I had pictured the nymph of the fountain ; nor the tall, soft, languishing, blue-eyed, dignified being that I had fancied the minstrel of the harp. There was nothing of dignity about her ; she was girlish in her appearance, and scarcely of the middle size ; but then there was the tenderness of budding youth ; the sweetness of the half- blown rose, when not a tint or perfume has been 86 MOUNTJOT. withered or exhaled ; there were smiles and dim- ples, and all the soft witcheries of ever-varying expression. I wondered that I could ever have admired any other style of beauty. After breakfast Mr. Somerville departed to attend to the concerns of his estate, and gave me in charge of the ladies. Mrs. Somerville also was called away by household cares, and I was left alone with Julia ! Here then was the situa- tion which of all others I had most coveted. I was in the presence of the lovely being that had so long been the desire of my heart. We were alone ; propitious opportunity for a lover ! Did I seize upon it ? Did I break out in one of my accustomed rhapsodies ? No such thing ! Never was being more awkwardly embarrassed. " What can be the cause of this ? " thought I. " Surely I cannot stand in awe of this young girl. I am of course her superior in intellect, and am never embarrassed in company Avitli my tutor, notwithstanding all his wisdom." It was passing strange. I felt that if she were an old woman, I should be quite at my ease ; if she were even an ugly woman, I should make out very well ; it was her beauty that overpowered me. How little do lovely women know what awful beings they are, in the eyfes of inexpe- rienced youth ! Young men brought up in the fashionable circles of our cities will smile at all this. Accustomed to mingle incessantly in female society, and to have the romance of the heart deadened by a thousand frivolous flirtations, women are nothing but women in their eyes ; MOUNT JOY. 87 but to a susceptible youth like myself, brought up in the country, they are perfect divinities. Miss Somerville was at first a little embar- rassed herself; but, somehow or other, women have a natural adroitness in recovering their self- possession ; they are more alert in their minds and graceful in their manners. Besides, I was but an ordinary personage in Miss Somerville's eyes ; she was not under the influence of such a singular course of imaginings as had surrounded her, in my eyes, with the illusions of romance. Perhaps, too, she saw the confusion in the op- posite camp, and gained courage from the discov- ery. At any rate, she was the first to take the field. Her conversation, however, was only on com- monplace topics, and in an easy, well-bred style. I endeavored to respond in the same manner ; but I was strangely incompetent to the task. My ideas were frozen up ; even words seemed to fail me. I was excessively vexed at myself, for I wished to be uncommonly elegant. I tried two or three times to turn a pretty thought, or to utter a fine sentiment ; but it would come forth so trite, so forced, so mawkish, that I was ashamed of it. My very voice sounded discordantly, though I sought to modulate it into the softest tones. " The truth is," thought I to myself, •' I cannot bring my mind down to the small talk necessary for young girls ; it is too masculine and robust for the mincing measure of parlor gossip. I am a philosopher ; and that accounts for it." The entrance of Mrs. Somerville at length 88 MOUNTJOY. gave me relief. I at once breathed freely, and felt a vast deal of confidence come over me. " This is strange," thought I, " that the appear- ance of another woman should revive my cour- age ; that I should be a better match for two women than one. However, since it is so, I will take advantage of the circumstance, and let this young lady see that 1 am not so great a simple- ton as she probably thinks me." I accordingly took up the book of poetry which lay upon the sofa. It was Milton's " Paradise Lost." Nothing could have been more fortunate ; it af- forded a fine scope for my favorite vein of gran- diloquence. T went largely into a discussion of its merits, or rather an enthusiastic eulogy of them. My observations were addressed to Mrs. Sowner- ville, for I found I could talk to her with more ease than to her daughter. She appeared per- fectly alive to the beauties of the poet, and dis- posed to meet me in the discussion ; but it was not my object to hear her talk ; it was to talk myself. I anticipated all she had to say, over- powered her with the copiousness of my ideas, and supported and illustrated them by long cita- tions from the author. While thus holding forth, I cast a side-glance to see how Miss Somerville was affected. She had some embroidery stretched on a frame before her, but had paused in her labor, and was looking down, as if lost in mute attention. I felt a glow of self-satisfaction ; but I recollected, at the same time, with a kind of pique, the advantage she had enjoyed over me in our tete-a-tete. I determined MOUNTJOY. 89 to push my triumph, and accordingly kept on with redoubled ardor, until I had fairly exhausted my subject, or rather my thoughts. I had scarce come to a full stop, when Miss Somerville raised her eyes from the work on which they had been fixed, and turning to her mother, observed : " I have been considering, mamma, whether to work these flowers plain, or in colors." Had an ice-bolt been shot to my heart, it could not have chilled me more effectually. " What a fool," thought I, " have I been making myself, — squandering away fine thoughts and fine language upon a light mind and an ignorant ear ! This girl knows nothing of poetry. She has no soul, fear, for its beauties. Can any one have real sensibility of heart, and not be alive to poetry ? However, she is young ; this part of her education has been neglected ; there is time enough to rem- edy it. I will be her preceptor. I will kindle in her mind the sacred flame, and lead her through the fairy land of song. But, after all, it is rather unfortunate that I should have fallen in love with a woman who knows nothing of poetry." I passed a day not altogether satisfactory. I was a little disappointed that Miss Somerville did not show more poetical feeling. " I am afraid, after all," said I to myself, " she is light and girl- ish, and more fitted to pluck wild flowers, play on the flageolet, and romp with little dogs, than to converse with a man of my turn." I believe however, to tell the truth, I was more 90 MOUNT JOY. out of humor with myself. I thought I had made the worst first appearance that ever hero made, either in novel or fairy tale. I was out of all patience when I called to mind my awkward attempts at ease and elegance, in the tete-a-tete. And then my intolerable long lecture about poetry, to catch the applause of a heedless auditor ! But there I was not to blame. I had certainly been eloquent ; it was her fault that the eloquence was wasted. To meditate upon the embroidery of a flower, when I was expatiating on the beauties of Milton ! She might at least have admired the poetry, if she did not relish the manner in which it was delivered ; though that was not despicable, for I had recited passages in my best style, which my mother and sisters had always considered equ?l to a play. " Oh, it is evident," thought I, " Miss Somerville has very little soul ! " ouch were my fancies and cogitations during the day, the greater part of which was spent in my chamber ; for I was still languid. My even- ing was passed in the drawing-room, where I overlooked Miss Somerville's portfolio of sketches. They were executed with great taste, and showed a nice observation of the peculiarities of Nature. They were all her own, and free from those cun- ning tints and touches of the drawing-master, by which young ladies' drawings, like their heads, are dressed up for company. There was no gar- ish and vulgar trick of colors, either ; all was ex- ecuted with singular truth and simplicity. " And yet," thought I, " this little being, whp has so pure an eye to take in, as in a limpid brook. MOUNTS OY. 91 all the graceful forms and mao;ic tints of Nature, has no soul for poetry ! " Mr. Somerville, toward the latter part of the evening, observing my eye to wander occasionally to the harp, interpreted and met my wishes with his accustomed civility. " Julia, my dear," said he, " Mr. Mountjoy would like to hear a little music from your harp ; let us hear, too, the sound of your voice." Julia immediately complied, without any of that hesitation and difficulty by which young ladies are apt to make the company pay dear for bad music. She sang a sprightly strain, in a brill- iant style, that came trilling playfully over the ear ; and the bright eye and dimpling smile showed that her little heart danced with the song. Her pet Canary bird, who hung close by, was wakened by the music, and burst forth into an emulating strain. Julia smiled with a pretty ^ir of defiance, and played louder. After some time the music changed, and ran into a plaintive strain, in a minor key. Then it was that all the former witchery of her voice came over me ; then it was that she seemed to sing from the heart and to the heart. Her fingers moved about the chords as if they scarcely touched them. Her whole manner and appear- ance changed ; her eyes beamed with the softest expression ; her countenance, her frame, — all seemed subdued into tenderness. She rose from the harp, leaving it still vibrating with sweet sounds, and moved toward her father, to bid him good-night. 92 MOUNTJOY. His eyes had been fixed on her intently during her performance. As she came before him, he parted her shining ringlets with both his hands, and looked down with the fondness of a father on her innocent ftice. The music seemed still linger- ing in its lineaments, and the action of her father brought a moist gleam in her eye. He kissed her fair forehead, after the French mode of parental caressing : " Good-night, and God bless you," said he, " my good little girl ! " Julia tripped away with a tear in her eye, a dimple in her cheek, and a light heart in her bosom. I thought it the prettiest picture of pa- ternal and filial affection I had ever seen. When I retired to bed a new train of thoughts crowded into my brain. " After all," said I to myself, "it is clear this girl has a soul, though she was not moved by my eloquence. She has all the outward signs and evidences of poetic feel- ing. She paints well, and has an eye for Nature. She is a fine musician, and enters into the very soul of song. What a pity that she knows noth- ing of poetry ! But we will see what is to be done. I am irretrievably in love with her ; what then am I to do ? Come down to the level of her mind, or endeavor to raise her to some kind of intellectual equality with myself ? That is the most generous course. She will look up to me as a benefactor. I shall become associated in her mind with the lofty thoughts and harmonious graces of poetry. She is apparently docile ; be- sides, the difference of our ages will give me an ascendency over her. She cannot be above sixteen MOUNTJOY. 93 years of age, and I am full turned of twenty." So, having built this most delectable of air-castles, I fell asleep. The next morning I was quite a diiferent be- ing. I no longer felt fearful of stealing a glance at Julia ; on the contrary, I contemplated her steadily, with the benignant eye of a benefactor. Shortly after breakflist I found myself alone with her, as I had on the preceding morning ; but I felt nothing of the awkwardness of our previous tete-d-tete. I was elevated by the consciousness of my intellectual superiority, and should almost have felt a sentiment of pity for the ignorance of the lovely little being, if I had not felt also the assurance that I should be able to dispel it. " But it is time," thought I, " to open school." Julia was occupied in arranging some music on her piano. I looked over two or three songs ; they were Moore's Irish Melodies. " These are pretty things," said I, flirting the leaves ove? lightly, and giving a slight shrug, by •way of qualifying the opinion. " Oh, I love them of all things ! " said Julia, " they 're so touching ! " " Then you like them for the poetry ? " said I, with an encouraging smile. " Oh yes ; she thought them charmingly writ- ten." Now was my time. " Poetry," said I, assum- ing a didactic attitude and air, — " poetry is one of the most pleasing studies that can occupy a youth- ful mind. It renders us susceptible of the gentlo 94 MOUNTJOY. impulses of humanity, and cherishes a delicate perception of all that is virtuous and elevated in morals, and graceful and beautiful in physics. It" — I was going on in a style that M^ould have graced a professor of rhetoric, when I saw a light smile playing about Miss Somerville's mouth, and that she began to turn over the leaves of a music- book. I recollected her inattention to my dis- course of the preceding morning. " There is no fixing her light mind," thought I, "by abstract theory ; we will proceed practically." As it hap- pened, the identical volume of Milton's " Paradise Lost " was lying at hand. " Let me recommend to you, my young friend," said I, in one of those tones of persuasive admo- nition, which I had so often loved in Glencoe, — " let me recommend to you this admirable poem : you will find in it sources of intellectual enjoy- ment far superior to those songs which have de- lighted you." Julia looked at the book, and then at me, with a whimsically dubious air. " Milton's ' Paradise Lost ' ? " said she ; " oh, I know the greater part of that by heart." I had not expected to find my pupil so far advanced ; however, the " Paradise Lost " is a kind of school-book, and its finest passages are given to young ladies as tasks. " I find," said I to myself, " I must not treat her as so complete a novice ; her inattention, yes- terday, could not have proceeded from absolute ignorance, but merely from a want of poetic feel- ing. I '11 try her again." MOUNTJOY. 95 I now determined to dazzle her with my OAvn erudition, and launched into a harangue that would have done honor to an institute. Pope, Spenser, Chaucer, and the old dramatic writers, were all dipped into, with the excursive flight of a swallow. I did not confine myself to English poets, but gave a glance at the French and Italian schools : I passed over Ariosto in full wing, but paused on Tasso's " Jerusalem Delivered." I dwelt on the cliaracter of Clorinda : " There 's a character," said I, " that you will find well worthy a woman's study. It shows to what exalted heights of hero- ism the sex can rise ; how gloriously they may share even in the stern concerns of men." " For my part," said Julia, gently taking advan- tage of a pause, — " for my part, I prefer the character of Sophronia." I was thunderstruck. She then had read Tasso ! This girl that I had been treating as an ignora- mus in poetry ! She proceeded, with a slight glow of the cheek, summoned up perhaps by a casual glow of feeling : — "I do not admire those masculine heroines," said she, " who aim at the bold qualities of the opposite sex. Now Sophronia only exhibits the real qualities of a woman, wrought up to their highest excitement. She is modest, gentle, and retiring, as it becomes a woman to be ; but she has all the strength of affection proper to a woman. She cannot fight for her people, as Clorinda does, but she can offer herself up, and die, to serve them. You may admire Clorinda, but you surely would be more apt to love Sophronia ; at least," 96 MOUNT JOY. added she, suddenly appearing to recollect herself, and blushing at having launched into such a dis- cussion, — " at least, that is what papa observed, .vhen we read the poem together." " Indeed," said I, dryly, for I felt disconcerted and nettled at being unexpectedly lectured by my pupil, — " indeed, I do not exactly recollect the passage." " Oh," said Julia, " I can repeat it to you ; " and she immediately gave it in Italian. Heavens and earth ! — here was a situation ! I knew no more of Italian than I did of the language of Psalmanazar. What a dilemma for a would-be-wise man to be placed in ! I saw Julia waited for my opinion. " In fact," said I, hesitating, "I — I do not ex- actly understand Italian." " Oh," said Julia, with the utmost naivete^ " I have no doubt it is very beautiful in the transla- tion." I was glad to break up school and get back to my chamber, full of the mortification which a wise man in love experiences on finding his mistress wiser than himself. " Translation ! trans- lation ! " muttered I to myself, as I jerked the door shut behind me. " I am surprised my father has never had me instructed in the modern lanoruaares. They are all-important. What is the use of Latin and Greek ? No one speaks them ; but here, the moment I make my appearance in the world, a little girl slaps Italian in my face. How- ever, thank Heaven, a language is easily learned. The moment I return home, I '11 set about study- MOUNTJOY. 97 ing Italian ; and to prevent future surprise, I will study Spanish and German at the same time ; and if any young lady attempts to quote Italian upon me again, I'll bury her under a heap of High Dutch poetry!" I felt now like some mighty chieftain, who has carried the war into a weak country, with full confidence of success, and been repulsed and obliged to draw off his forces from before some inconsiderable fortress. " However," thought I, " I have as yet brought only my light artillery into action ; we shall see wliat is to be done with my heavy ordnance. Julia is evidently well versed in poetry ; but it is natural she should be so ; it is allied to painting and music, and is congenial to the light graces of the female character. We will try her on graver themes." I felt all my pride awakened ; it even for a time swelled higher than my love. I was de- termined completely to establish my mental supe- riority, and subdue the intellect of this little being : it would then be time to sway tlie sceptre of gentle empire, and win the affections of her heart. Accordingly, at dinner I again took the field, en potence. I now addressed myself to Mr. Som- erville, for I was about to enter upon topics in which a young girl like her could not be well versed. I led, or rather forced, the conversation into a vein of historical erudition, discussing sev- eral of the most prominent facts of ancient history and accompanying them with sound, indisputable apothegms. 98 M0UNTJ07 Mr. Somervllle listened to me with the air of a man receiving information. I was encouraged, and went on gloriously from theme to theme of school declamation. I sat with Marius on the ruins of Carthage ; I defended the bridge with Horatius Codes ; thrust my hand into the flame with Martins Scaevola, and plunged with Curtius into the yawning gulf; I fought side by side with Leonidas, at the straits of Thermopylae ; and was going full drive into the battle of Platsea, when my memory, which is the worst in the world, failed me, just as I wanted the name of the Lacedemonian commander. " Julia, my dear," said Mr. Somerville, " per- haps you may recollect the name of which Mr. Mountjoy is in quest ? " Julia colored slightly : " I believe," said she, in a low voice, — "I believe it was Pausanias." This unexpected sally, instead of reinforcing me, threw my whole scheme of battle into con- fusion, and the Athenians remained unmolested in the field.* I am half inclined, since, to think Mr. Somer- ville meant this as a sly hit at my schoolboy pedantry ; but he was too well bred not to seek to relieve me from my mortification. " Oh ! " said he, " Julia is our family book of reference for names, dates, and distances, and has an excellent memory for history and geography." I now became desperate ; as a last resource, I turned to metaphysics. " If she is a philosopher in petticoats," thought I, " it is all over with me." Here, however, I had the field to myself. I MOUNT JOY. 99 gave chapter and verse of my tutor's lectures^ heightened by all his poetical illustrations : I even went farther than he had ever ventured, and plunged into such depths of metaphysics, that I was in danger of sticking in the mire at the bot- tom. Fortunately, I had auditors who apparently could not detect my flounderings. Neither Mr. Somerville nor his daughter offered the least in- terruption. When the ladies had retired, Mr. Somerville sat some time with me ; and as I was no longer anxious to astonish, I permitted myself to listen, and found that he was really agreeable. He was quite communicative, and from his conversation I was enabled to form a juster idea of his daughter's character, and the mode in which she had been brought up. Mr. Somerville had mingled much with the world, and with what is termed fashion- able society. He had experienced its cold ele- gancies, and gay insincerities ; its dissipation of the spirits, and squanderings of the heart. Like many men of the world, though he had wandered too far from Nature ever to return to it, yet he had the good taste and good feeling to look back fondly to its simple delights, and to determine that his child, if possible, should never leave them. He had superintended her education with scrupu- lous care, storing her mind with the graces of polite literature, and with such knowledge as would enable it to furnish its own amusement and occupation, and giving her all the accomplishments hat s\A»eeten and enliven the circle of domestic life. He had been particularly sedulous to ex- 100 MOUNT JOY. elude all fashionable affectations ; all false senti- ment, false sensibility, and false romance. " What- ever advantages she may possess," said he, " she is quite unconscious of them. She is a capricious little being, in everything but her affections ; she is, however, free from art ; simple, ingenuous, in- nocent, amiable, and, I thank God ! happy." Such vs^as the eulogy of a fond father, delivered with a tenderness that touched me. I could not help making a casual inquiry whether, among the graces of polite literature, he had included a slight tincture of metaphysics. He smiled, and told me he had not. On the whole, when, as usual, that night, I summed up the day's observations on my pillow, I was not altogether dissatisfied. " Miss Somer- ville," said I, " loves poetry, and I like her the better for it. She has the advantage of me in Italian : agreed ; what is it to know a variety of languages, but merely to have a variety of sounds to express the same idea? Original thought is the ore of the mind ; language is but the acci- dental stamp and coinage, by which it is put into circulation. If I can furnish an original idea, what care I how many languages she can trans- late it into ? She may be able, also, to quote names, and dates, and latitudes, better than I; but that is a mere effort of the memory. I admit she is more accurate in history and geography than I ; but then she knows nothing of meta- physics." I had now sufficiently recovered to return home ; yeti I could not think of leaving Mr. MOUNT JOY, 101 Somerville'y, without having a little farther con- versation with liim on the subject of his daughter's education. " This Mr. Somerville," thought I, " is a very accomplished, elegant man : he has seen a good deal of the world, and, upon the whole, has profited by what he has seen. He is not without information, and, as far as he thinks, appears to think correctly ; but after all, he is rather super- ficial, and does not think profoundly. He seems to take no delight in those metaphysical abstrac- tions that are the proper aliment of masculine minds." I called to mind various occasions in which I had indulged largely in metaphysical dis- cussions, but could recollect no instance where I had been able to draw him out. He had listened, it is true, with attention, and smiled as if in acquiescence, but had always appeared to avoid reply. Besides, I had made several sad blunders in the glow of eloquent declamation ; but he had never interrupted me, to notice and correct them, as he would have done had he been versed in the theme. " Now it is really a great pity," resumed I, " that he should have the entire management of Miss Somerville's education. What a vast ad- vantage it would be, if she could be put for a little time under the superintendence of Glencoe. He would throw some deeper shades of thought into her mind, which at present is all sunshine ; not but that Mr. Somerville has done very well, as far as he has gone ; but then he has merely prepared the soil for the strong plants of useful 102 MOUNT JOY. knowledge. She is well versed in the leading facts of history, and the general course of belles- lettres/' said I ; " a little more philosophy would do wonders." I accordingly took occasion to ask Mr. Somer- ville for a few moments' conversation in his study, the morning I was to depart. When we were alone, I opened the matter fully to him. I com- menced with the warmest eulogium of Glencoe's powers of mind, and vast acquirements, and as- cribed to him all my proficiency in the higher branches of knowledge. I begged, therefore, to recommend him as a friend calculated to direct the studies of Miss Somerville ; to lead her mind, by degrees, to the contemplation of abstract prin- ciples, and to produce habits of philosophical analysis ; " which," added I, gently smiling, " are not often cultivated by young ladies." I ven- tured to hint, in addition, that he would, find Mr. Glencoe a most valuable and interesting acquaint- ance for himself; one who would stimulate and evolve the powers of his mind ; and who might open to him tracts of inquiry and speculation to which perhaps he had hitherto been a stranger. Mr. Somerville listened with grave attention. When I had finished, he thanked me in the po- litest manner for the interest I took in the welfare of his daughter and himself. He observed that, as regarded himself, he was afraid he was too old to benefit by the instructions of Mr. Glencoe, and that as to his daughter, he was afraid her mind was but little fitted for the study of meta- physics. " I do not wish," continued he, " to strain MOUNTJOY. 103 her intellects with subjects they cannot grasp, but to make her familiarly acquainted with those that are within the limits of her capacity. I do not pretend to prescribe the boundaries of female genius, and am far from indulging the vulgar opinion that women are unfitted by Nature for the highest intellectual pursuits. I speak only with reference to my daughter's taste and talents. She will never make a learned woman ; nor in truth do I desire it; for such is the jealousy of our sex, as to mental as well as physical ascendency, that a learned woman is not always the happiest. I do not wish my daughter to excite envy, nor to battle with the prejudices of the world ; but to glide peaceably through life, on the good will and kind opinion of her friends. She has ample em- ployment for her little head in the course I have marked out for her ; and is busy at present with some branches of natural history, calculated to awaken her perceptions to the beauties and won- ders of Nature, and to the inexhaustible volume of wisdom constantly spread open before her eyes. I consider that woman most likely to make an agree- able companion, who can draw topics of pleasing remark from every natural object ; and most likely to be cheerful and contented, who is continually sensible of the order, the harmony, and the inva- riable beneficence that reion throughout the beau- o o tiful world we inhabit. " But," added he, • smiling, " I am betraying myself into a lecture, instead of merely giving a reply to your kind offer. Permit me to take the liberty, in return, of inquiring a little about your 104 MOUNTJOY. own pursuits. You speak of having finished youi education ; but of course you have a line of pri- vate study and mental occupation marked out ; for you must know the importance, both in point of interest and happiness, of keeping the mind employed. May I ask what system you observe in your intellectual exercises ? " " Oh, as to system," I observed, " I could never bring myself into anything of the kind. I thought it best to let my genius take its own course, as it always acted the most vigorously when stimulated by inclination." Mr. Somerville shook his head. " This same genius," said he, " is a wild quality, that runs away with our most promising young men. It has become so much the fashion, too, to give it the reins, that it is now thought an animal of too noble and generous a nature to be brought to the harness. But it is all a mistake. Nature never desio^ned these hio^h endowments to run riot through society, and throw the whole system into confusion. No, my dear sir ; genius, unless it acts upon system, is very apt to be a useless quality to society ; sometimes an injurious, and certainly a very uncomfortable one, to its pos- sessor. I have had many opportunities of seeing the progress through life of young men who were accounted geniuses, and have found it too often end in early exhaustion and - bitter disappoint- ment ; and have as often noticed that these effects might be traced to a total want of system. There were no habits of business, of steady purpose, and regular application superinduced upon the MOUNT JOY. 105 mind ; everything was left to chance and impulse^ and native luxuriance, and everything of course ran to waste and wild entanglement. Excuse me if I am tedious on this point, for I feel so- licitous to impress it upon you, being an error ex- tremely prevalent in our country, and one into which too many of our youth have fallen. I am happy, however, to observe the zeal which still appears to actuate you for the acquisition of knowledge, and augur every good from the ele- vated bent of your ambition. May I ask what has been your course of study for the last six months ? " Never was question more unluckily timed. For the last six months I had been absolutely buried in novels and romances. Mr. Somerville perceived that the question was embarrassing, and with his invariable good breeding, immediately resumed the conversation, without waiting for a reply. He took care, how- ever, to turn it in such a way as to draw from me an account of the whole manner in which I had been educated, and the various currents of reading into which my mind had run. He then went on to discuss briefly, but impressively, the different branches of knowledge most important to a young man in my situation ; and to my sur- prise I found him a complete master of those studies on which I had supposed him ignorant, and on which I had been descanting so confi- dently. He complimented me, however, very graciously, upon the progress I had made, but advised me 106 MOUNT JOY. for the present to turn my attention to the phys- ical rather than the moral sciences. " These studies," said he, " store a man's mind with valua- ble facts, and at the same time repress self- confidence, by letting him know how boundless are the realms of knowledge, and how little we can possibly know. Whereas metaphysical stud- ies, though of an ingenious order of intellectual employment, are apt to bewilder some minds with vague speculations. They never know how far they have advanced, or what may be the correct- ness of their favorite theory. They render many of our young men verbose and declamatory, and prone to mistake the aberrations of their fancy for the inspirations of divine philosophy." I could not but interrupt him, to assent to the truth of these remarks, and to say that it had been my lot, in the course of my limited expe- rience, to encounter young men of the kind, who bad overwhelmed me by their verbosity. Mr. Somerville smiled. "I trust," said he kindly, '• tliat you will guard against these errors. Avoid the eagerness with which a young man is apt to hurry into conversation, and to utter the crude and ill-digested notions which he has picked up in his recent studies. Be assured that exten- sive and accurate knowledge is the slow acquisi- tion of a studious lifetime ; that a young man, however pregnant his wit and prompt his talent, can have mastered but the rudiments of learning, and, in a manner, attained the implements of study. Whatever may have been your past assiduity, you must be sensible that as yet you MOUNTS OY. 107 have but reached the threshold of true knowl- edge ; but at the same time, you have the ad- vantage that you are still very young, and have ample time to learn." Here our conference ended. I walked out of the study, a very different being from what I was on entering it. I had gone in with the air of a professor about to deliver a lecture ; I came out like a student, who had failed in his examination, and been degraded in his class. " Very young," and " on the threshold of knowl- edge ! " This was extremely flattering to one who had considered himself an accomplished scholar and profound philosopher ! " It is singular," thought I ; '• there seems to have been a spell upon my faculties ever since I have been in this house. I certainly have not been able to do myself justice. Whenever I have undertaken to advise, I have had the tables turned upon me. It must be that I am strange and dif- fident among people I am not accustomed to. I wish they could hear me talk at home ! " "After all," added I, on farther reflection, — " after all, there is a great deal of force in what Mr. Somerville has said. Some how or other, these men of the world do now and then hit upon remarks that would do credit to a philosopher. Some of his general observations came so home, that I almost thought they were meant for my- self. His advice about adopting a system of study, is very judicious. I will immediately put it in practice. My mind shall operate hencefor- ward with the regularity of clock-work." 108 MOUNTJOY. How far I succeeded in adopting this plan, how I fared in the farther pursuit of knowledge, and how I succeeded in my suit to Julia Somerville, may afford matter for a farther communication to the public, if this simple record of my early life is fortunate enough to excite any curiosity. THE BERMUDAS. A SHAKSPEAKIAN RESEARCH. " Who did not think, till within these foure yeares, but that these islands had been rather a habitation for Divells, than fit for men to dwell in ? Who did not hate the name, when hee was on land, and shun the place when he was on the seas? But behold the misprision and conceits of the world! For true and large experience hath now told us, it is one of the sweetest paradises that be upon earth." "A Plaine Descript. of the Barmudas:" 1613. N the course of a voyage home from England, our ship had been struggling, for two or three weeks, with perverse head-winds and a stormy sea. It was in the month of May, yet the weather had at times a wintry sharpness, and it w^as apprehended that we were in the neighborhood of floating islands of ice, which at that season of the year drift out of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence, and sometimes occasion the wreck of noble ships. Wearied out by the continued opposition of the elements, our captain bore away to the south, in hopes of catching the expiring breath of the trade- winds, and making what is called the southern passage. A few days wrought, as it were, a 110 THE BERMUDAS. magical " sea change " in everything around us. We seemed to emerge into a different world. The late dark and angry sea, lashed up into roaring and swashing surges, became calm and sunny; the rude winds died away ; and gradually a light breeze sprang up directly aft, filling out every sail, and wafting us smoothly along on an even keel. The air softened into a bland and delightful tem- perature. Dolphins began to play about us ; the nautilus came floating by, like a fairy ship, with its mimic sail and rainbow tints ; and flying-fish, from time to time, made their short excursive flights, and occasionally fell upon the deck. The cloaks and overcoats in Avhich we had hitherto wrapped ourselves, and moped about the vessel, were thrown aside ; for a summer warmth had succeeded to the late wintry chills. Sails were stretched as awnings over the quarter-deck, to protect us from the midday sun. Under these we lounged away the day, in luxurious indolence, musing, with half-shut eyes, upon the quiet ocean. The night was scarcely less beautiful than the day. The rising moon sent a quivering column of silver along the undulating surface of the deep, and, gradually climbing the heaven, lit up our towering topsails and swelling mainsails, and spread a pale, mysterious light around. As our ship made her whispering way through this dreamy world of waters, every boisterous sound on board was charmed to silence ; and the low wliistle, or drowsy song, of a sailor from the forecastle, or the tinkling of a guitar, and the soft warbling of a female voice from the quarter-deck, seemed to THE BERMUDAS. Ill derive a witching melody from the scene and hour. I was reminded of Oberon's exquisite de- scription of music and moonlight on the ocean : — .... " Thou rememberest Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music." Indeed, I was in the very mood to conjure up all the imaginary beings with which poetry has peopled old Ocean, and almost ready to fancy I heard the distant song of the mermaid, or the mellow shell of the triton, and to picture to my- self Neptune and Amphitrite with all their pageant sweeping along the dim horizon. A day or two of such fanciful voyaging brought us in sight of the Bermudas, which first looked like mere summer clouds, peering above the quiet ocean. All day we glided along in sight of them, with just wind enough to fill our sails ; and never did land appear more lovely. They were clad in emerald verdure, beneath the serenest of skies : not an angry wave broke upon their quiet shores, and small fishing craft, riding on the crystal waves, seemed as if hung in air. It was such a scene that Fletcher pictured to himself, when he ex- tolled the halcyon lot of the fisherman : — "Ah ! would thou knewest how much it better were To bide among the simple fisher-swains : No shrieking owl, no night-crow lodgeth here, Xor is our simple pleasure mixed with pains. 112 THE BERM UDAS. Our sports begin with the beginning year: In calms, to pull the leaping fish to land ; In loughs, to sing and dance along the yellow sand." In contemplating these beautiful islands, and the peaceful sea around them, I could hardly re- alize that these were the " still vexed Bermoothes " of Shakspeare, once the dread of mariners, and infamous in the narratives of the early discover ers, for the dangers and disasters which beset them. Such, however, was the case ; and the islands derived additional interest in my eyes, from fancying that I could trace in their early history, and in the superstitious notions connected with them, some of the elements of Shakspeare's wild and beautiful drama of the "Tempest." I shall take the liberty of citing a few historical facts in support of this idea, which may claim some additional attention from the American reader, sis being connected with the first settlement of Vir- ginia. At the time when Shakspeare was in the ful- ness of his talent, and seizing upon everything that could furnish aliment to his imagination, the colonization of Virginia was a favorite object of enterprise among people of condition in England, and several of the courtiers of the court of Queen Elizabeth were personally engaged in it. In the year 1609 a noble armament of nine ships and five hundred men sailed for the relief of the colony. It was commanded by Sir George Somers, as ad- miral, a gallant and generous gentleman, above sixty years of age, and possessed of an ample fortune, yet still bent upon hardy enterprise, and THE BERMUDAS. 118 ambitions of sio;nalizino: himself in the service of his country. On board of his flag-ship, the Sea - Vulture, sailed also Sir Thomas Gates, lieutenant-general of the colony. The voyage was long and boister- ous. On the twenty-fifth of July the admiral's ship was separated from the rest in a hurricane. For several days she was driven about at the mercy of the elements, and so strained and racked that her seams yawned open, and her hold was half filled with water. The storm subsided, but left her a mere foundering wreck. The crew stood in the hold to their waists in water, vainly endeav- oring to bale her with kettles, buckets, and other vessels. The leaks rapidly gained on them, while their strength was as rapidly declining. They lost all hope of keeping the ship afloat, until they should reach the American coast ; and wearied with fruitless toil, determined, in their despair, to give up all fiirther attempt, shut down the hatches, and abandon themselves to Providence. Some, who had spirituous liquors, or " comforta- ble waters," as the old record quaintly terms them, brought them forth, and shared them with their comrades, and they all drank a sad farewell to one another, as men who were soon to part company in this world. In this moment of extremity, the worthy ad- mh'al, who kept sleepless watch from the high stern of the vessel, gave the thrilling cry of " land ! " All rushed on deck, in a frenzy of joy, and nothing now was to be seen or heard on board but the transports of men who felt as if 8 114 THE BERM UDAS. rescued from the grave. It is true the land in sight would not, in ordinary circumstances, have inspired much self-gratulation. It could be nothing else but the group of islands called after their discoverer, one Juan Bermudas, a Spaniard, but stigmatized among the mariners of those days as " the islands of devils ! " " For the islands of the Bermudas," says the old narrative of this voyage, " as every man knoweth that hath heard or read of them, were never inhabited by any Christian or heathen people, but were ever esteemed and reputed a most prodigious and inchanted place, affording nothing but gusts, stormes, and foul weather, which made every navigator and mari- ner to avoid them as Scylla and Charybdis, or as they would shun the Divell himself." * Sir George Somers and his tempest-tossed com- rades, however, hailed them with rapture, as if they had been a terrestrial paradise. Every sail was spread, and every exertion made to urge the foundering ship to land. Before long she struck upon a rock. Fortunately, the late stormy winds had subsided, and there was no surf. A swelling wave lifted her from off the rock, and bore her to another ; and thus she was borne on from rock to rock, until she remained wedged between two, as firmly as if set upon the stocks. The boats were immediately lowered, and, though the shore was above a mile distant, the whole crew were landed in safety. Every one had now his task assigned him. Some made all haste to unload the ship, before * A Pl'iine Description of the Bai-iuudas. THE BERM UDAS. 1 1 5 she should go to pieces ; some constructed wig- wams of palmetto-leaves, and others ranged the island in quest of wood and water. To their surpyse and joy, they found it far different from ^ the desolate and frightful place they had been taught by seamen's stories to expect. It was well wooded and fertile ; there were birds of various kinds, and herds of swine roaming about, the progeny of a number that had swum ashore, in former years, from a Spanish wreck. The islands abounded with turtle, and great quantities of their eggs were to be found among the rocks. CO o The bays and inlets were full of fish, so tame, that if any one stepped into the water, they would throng around him. Sir George Somers, in a little while, caught enough with hook and line to furnish a meal to his whole ship's com- pany. Some of them were so large that two were as much as a man could carry. Craw-fish, also, were taken in abundance. The air was soft and salubrious, and the sky beautifully serene. Waller, in his " Summer Islands," has given us a faithful picture of the climate : — *' For the kind spring, (which but salutes us here,) Inhabits these, and courts them all the year: Ripe fruits and blossoms on the same trees live ; At once they promise, and at once they give: So sweet the air, so moderate the clime. None sicldy lives, or dies before his time. Heaven sure has kept this spot of earth uncursed, To show how all things were created first." We may imagine the feelings of the ship- wreck(id mariners on finding themselves cast by etorniy seas upon so happy a coast, where a bun- 116 THE BERMUDAS. dance was to be had without labor ; where what in other climes constituted the costly luxuries of the rich, were within every man's reach ; and where life promised to be a mere holiday. Many of the common sailors, especially, declared they desired no better lot than to pass the rest of their lives on this favored island. The commanders, however, were not so ready to console themselves with mere physical com- forts, for the severance from the enjoyment of cultivated life and all the objects of honorable ambition. Despairing of the arrival of any chance ship on these shunned and dreaded islands, they fitted out the long-boat, making a deck of the ship's hatches, and having manned her with eight picked men, despatched her, under the command of an able and hardy mariner, named Raven, to proceed to Virginia, and procure shipping to be sent to their relief. While waiting in anxious idleness for the arri- val of the looked-for aid, dissensions arose be- tween Sir George Somers and Sir Thomas Gates, originating, very probably, in jealousy of the lead which the nautical experience and professional station of the admiral gave him in the present emergency. Each commander of course had hia adherents ; these dissensions ripened into a com- plete schism ; and this handful of shipwrecked men, thus thrown together on an uninhabited island, separated into two parties, and lived asun- der in bitter feud, as men rendered fickle by prosperity, instead of being brought into brother- hood by a common calamity. THE BERMUDAS. 117 TToeks and mouths elapsed without bringing the looked-for aid from Virginia, though that colony was within but a few days' sail. Fears were now entertained that the long-boat had been either swallowed up in the sea, or wrecked on some savage coast ; one or other of whicli most probably was the case, as nothing was ever heard of Raven and his comrades. Each party now set to work to build a vessel for itself out of the cedar with which the island abounded. The wreck of the Sea-Vulture fur- nished rigging and various other articles ; but they had no iron for bolts and other fastenings ; and for Avant of pitch and tar, they payed the seams of their vessels with lime and turtle's oil, which soon dried, and became as hard as stone. On the tenth of May, 1610, they set sail, hav- ing been about nine months on the island. They reached Virginia without farther accident, but found the colony in great distress for provisions. The account that they gave of the abimdance that reigned in the Bermudas, and especially of the herds of swine that roamed the island, deter- mined Lord Delaware, the governor of Virginia, to send thither for supplies. Sir George Somers, with his wonted promptness and generosity, of- fered to undertake what was still considered a dan- gerous voyage. Accordingly on the nineteenth of June he set sail, in his own cedar vessel of thirty tons, accompanied by another small vessel, commaiided by Captain Argall. The valiant Somers was doomed asrain to be tempest-tossed. His companion vessel was soon 118 THE BERMUDAS. driven back to port, but he kept the sea ; and, as usual, remained at his post on deck in all weathers. His voyage was long and boisterous, and the fa- tigues and exposures which he underwent were too much for a frame impaired by age and by previous hardships. He arrived at Bermudas completely exhausted and broken down. His nephew, Captain Matthew Somers, at- tended him in his illness with affectionate assiduity. Finding his end approaching, the veteran called his men together, and exhorted them to be true to the interests of Virginia ; to procure provi- sions, with all possible despatch, and hasten back to the relief of the colony. With this dying charge he gave up the ghost, leaving his nephew and crew overwhelmed with grief and consternation. Their first thought was to pay honor to his remains. Opening the body, they took out the heart and entrails, and buried them, erecting a cross over the grave. They then embalmed the body, and set sail with it for Eng- land ; thus, while paying empty honors to their deceased commander, neglecting his earnest wish and dying injunction, that they should return with relief to Virginia. The little bark arrived safely at Whitechurch in Dorsetshire, with its melancholy freight. The body of the worthy Somers was interred with the military honors due to a brave soldier, and many volleys fired over his grave. The Bermu- das have since received the name of the Somer Islands, as a tribute to his memory. The accounts given by Captain Matthew Somers THE BERMUDAS. 119 and his crew of the delightful climate, and the great beauty, fertility, and abundance of these islands, excited the zeal of enthusiasts and the cupidity of speculators, and a plan was set on foot to colonize them. The Virginia company sold their right to the islands to one hundred and twenty of their own members, who erected them- selves into a distinct corporation, under the name of the '• Somer Island Society " ; and Mr. Rich- ard More was sent out, in 1612, as governor, with sixty men, to found a colony ; and this leads me to the second branch of this research. THE THREE KINGS OF BERMUDA, AND THEIR TREASURE OF AMBERGRIS. At the time that Sir George Somers was pre- paring to launch his cedar-built bark, and sail for Virginia, there were three culprits among his men who had been guilty of capital offences. One of them was shot ; the others, named Chris- topher Carter and Edward Waters, escaped. Waters, indeed, made a very narrow escape, for he had* actually been tied to a tree to be exe- cuted, but cut the rope with a knife, which he had concealed about his person, and fled to the woods, where he was joined by Carter. These two worthies kept themselves concealed in the secret parts of the island, until the departure of the two vessels. When Sir George Somers revisited the island, in quest of supplies for the 120 THE BERMUDAS. Virginia colony, these culprits hovered about the landing-place, and succeeded in persuading an- other seaman, named Edward Chard, to join them, giving him the most seductive picture of the ease and abundance in which they rev- elled. When the bark that bore Sir George's body to England had faded from the watery horizon, these three vagabonds walked forth in their maj- esty and might, the lords and sole inhabitants of these islands. For a time their little com- monwealth went on prosperously and happily. They built a house, sowed corn, and the seeds of various fruits ; and having plenty of hogs, wild fowl, and fish of all kinds, with turtle in abun- dance, carried on their tripartite sovereignty with great harmony and much feasting. All king- doms, however, are doomed to revolution, convul- sion, or decay ; and so it fared with the empire of the three khigs of Bermuda, albeit they were monarchs without subjects. In an evil hour, in their search after turtle, among the fissures of the rocks, they came upon a great treasure of amber- gris, which had been cast on shore by the ocean. Besides a number of pieces of smaller dimen- sions, there was one great mass, the largest that had ever been known, weighing eighty pounds, and which of itself, according to the market value of ambergris in those days, was worth about nine or ten thousand pounds. From that moment the happiness and harmony of the three kings of Bermuda were gone for- ever. While poor devils, with nothing to share THE BERMUDAS. 121 but the common blessings of the ishmd, which administered to present enjoyment, but had noth- ing of convertible value, they were loving and united ; but here was actual wealth, which would make them rich men whenever they could trans- port it to market. Adieu the delights of the island ! They now became flat and insipid. Each pictured to him- self the consequence he might now aspire to, in civilized life, could he once get there with this mass of ambergris. No longer a poor Jack Tar, frolicking in the low taverns of Wapping, he might roll through London in his coach, and per- chance arrive, like Whittington, at the dignity of Lord Mayor. With riches came envy and covetousness. Each was now for assuming the supreme power, and getting the monopoly of the ambergris. A civil war at length broke out : Chard and Waters de- fied each other to mortal combat, and the kingdom of the Bermudas was on the point of being deluged with royal blood. Fortunately, Carter took no part in the bloody feud. Ambition might have made him view it with secret exultation ; for if either or both of his brother potentates were slain in the conflict, he would be a gainer in purse and ambergris. But he dreaded to be left alone in this uninhabited island, and to find himself the monarch of a solitude ; so he secretly purloined and hid the weapons of the belligerent rivals, who, having no means of carrying on the war, gradually cooled down into a sullen armistice. The arrival of Governor More, with an over 122 THE BERMUDAS. powering force of sixty men, put an end to the empire. He took possession of the kingdvmi. in the name of the Somer Island Company, and forthwith proceeded to make a settlement. The three kings tacitly relinquished their sway, but stood up stoutly for their treasure. It was de- termined, however, that they had been fitted out at the expense, and employed in the service, of the Virginia Company ; that they had found the ambergris while in the service of that company, and on that company's land ; that the ambergris therefore belonged to that company, or rather to the Somer Island Company, m consequence of their recent purchase of the island, and all their appurtenances. Having thus legally established their right, and being, moreover, able to back it by might, .the company laid the lion's paw upon the 5poil ; and nothing more remains on historic record of the Three Kings of Bermuda and their treasure of ambergris. The reader will now determine whether I am more extravagant than most of the commentators on Shakspeare, in my surmise that the story of Sir George Somers's shipwreck, and the subsequent occurrences that took place on the uninhabited island, may have furnished the bard with some of the elements of his drama of the '• Tempest." The tidings of the shipwreck, and of the incidents connected with it, reached England not long be- fore the production of this drama, and made a great sensation there. A narrative of the whole matter, from which most of the foregoing par- THE BERMUDAS. 123 ticulars are extracted, was published at the time in London, in a pamphlet form, and could not fail to be eagerly perused by Shakspeare, and to make a vivid impression on his fancy. His ex- pression, in the '• Tempest," of " the still vext Ber- moothes," accords exactly with the storm-beaten character of those islands. The enchantments, too, with which he has clothed the island of Pros- pero, may they not be traced to the wild and superstitious notions entertained about the Ber- mudas ? I have already cited two passages from a pamphlet pubHshed at the time, showing that they were esteemed " a most prodigious and in- chanted place," and the " habitation of divells " ; and another pamphlet, published shortly after- ward, observes : " And whereas it is reported that this land of the Barmudas, with the islands about, (which are many, at least an hundred.) are inchanted, and kept with evil and wicked spirits, it is a most idle false report." * The description, too, given in the same pam- phlets of the real beauty and fertility of the Ber- mudas, and of their serene and happy climate, so opposite to the dangerous and inhospitable char- acter with which they had been stigmatized, accords with the eulogium of Sebastian on the island of Prospero : — " Though this island seem to be desert, xininabitable. and almost inaccessible, it must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance. The air breathes upon us here most STveetly. Here is every thing advantageous to life. How ush and lustv the grass looks I how green ! " * Ntic<.s from the Barmudas: l'3i2. 124 THE BERMUDAS. I think too, in the exulting consciousness of ease, security, and abundance, felt by the late tempest-tossed mariners, while revelling in the plenteousness of the island, and their inclination to remain there, released from the labors, the cares, and the artificial restraints of civilized life, I can see something of the golden commonwealth of honest Gonzalo : — " Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord, And were the king of it, what would I do ? I' the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things: for no kind of traffic Would I admit ; no name of magistrate. Letters should not be known ; riches, poverty, And use of service, none ; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none : No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil : No occupation ; all men idle, all. All things in common, nature should produce, Without sweat or endeavor : Treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have ; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind all foizon, all abundance, To feed my innocent people." But above all, in the three fugitive vagabonds who remained in possession of the island of Ber- muda, on the departure of their comrades, and in their squabbles about supremacy, on the finding of their treasure, I see typified Sebastian, Trin- culo, and their worthy companion Caliban : — '' Trinculo, the king and all our company being drowned, we will inherit here." " Monster, I will kill this man ; his daughter and I will be king and queen, (save our graces!) and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys." THE BERMUDAS. 125 I do not mean to hold up the incidents and characters in the narrative and in the play as parallel, or as being strikingly similar : neither would I insinuate that the narrative suggested the play ; I would only suppose that Shakspeare, being occupied about that time on the drama of the " Tempest," the main story of which, I believe, is of Italian origin, had many of the fanciful ideas of it suggested to his mind by the shipwreck of Sir George Somers on the " still vext Ber- moothes," and by the popular superstitions con- nected with these islands, and suddenly put in circulation by that event. ^#/^ THE WIDOW'S OKDEAL; OR, A JUDICIAL TRIAL BY COMBAT. HE world is daily growing older and wiser. Its institutions vary with its years, and mark its growing wisdom ; and none more so than its modes of investigating truth, and ascertaining guilt or innocence. In its nonage, when man was yet a fallible being, and doubted the accuracy of his own intellect, appeals were made to Heaven in dark and doubtful cases of atrocious accusation. The accused was required to plunge his hand in boiling oil, or to Avalk across red-hot plough- shares, or to maintain his innocence in armed fight and listed field, in person or by champion. If he passed these ordeals unscathed, he stood acquitted, and the result was regarded as a ver- dict from on high. It is somewhat remarkable that, in the gallant age of chivalry, the gentler sex should have been most frequently the subjects of these rude trials and perilous ordeals ; and that, too, when assailed in their most delicate and vulnerable part, — their honor. In the present very old and enlightened age of the world, when the human intellect is per- THE WIDOWS ORDEAL. 127 ectly competent to the management of its own concerns, and needs no special interposition of Heaven in its affairs, the trial by jury has super- seded these superhuman ordeals ; and the una- nimity of twelve discordant minds is necessary to constitute a verdict. Such a unanimity would, at first sight, appear also to require a miracle from Heaven ; but it is produced by a simple device of human ingenuity. The twelve jurors are locked up in their box, there to fiist until abstinence shall have so clarified their intellects that the whole jarring panel can discern the truth, and concur in a unanimous decision. One point is certain, that truth is one and is immutable ; until the jurors all agree, they cannot all be right. It is not our intention, however, to discuss this great judicial point, or to question the avowed superiority of the mode of investigating truth adopted in this antiquated and very sagacious era. It is our object merely to exhibit to the curious reader one of the most memorable cases of judicial combat we find in the annals of Spain. It occurred at the bright commencement of the reign, and in the youthful, and, as yet, glorious days of Roderick the Goth ; who subsequently tarnished his fame at home by his misdeeds, and, finally, lost his kingdom and his life on the banks of the Guadalete, in that disastrous battle which gave up Spain a conquest to the Moors. The following is the story : — There was once upon a time a certain Duke of Lorraine, who was acknowledged throughout his 128 THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL. domains to be one of the wisest princes that ever lived. In fact there was no one measure adopted by him that did not astonish his privy councillors and gentlemen in attendance ; and he said such witty things, and made such sensible speeches, that the jaws of his high chamberlain were well- nigh dislocated from laughing with delight at one, and gaping with wonder at the other. This very witty and exceedingly Avise poten- tate lived for half a century in single blessedness ; at length his courtiers began to think it a great pity so wise and wealthy a prince should not have a child after his own likeness, to inherit his talents and domains ; so they urged him most respectfully to marry, for the good of his estate and the welfare of his subjects. He turned their advice over in his mind some four or five years, and then sent forth emissaries to summon to his court all the beautiful maidens in the land, who were ambitious of sharing a ducal crown. The court was soon crowded with beau- ties of all styles and complexions, from among whom he chose one in the earliest budding of her charms, and acknowledged by all the gentlemen to be unparalleled for grace and loveliness. The courtiers extolled the duke to the skies for mak- ing such a choice, and considered it another proof of his great wisdom. " The duke," said they, " is waxing a little too old ; the damsel, on the other hand, is a little too young ; if one is lacking in years, the other has a superabundance ; thus a want on one side is balanced by an excess on the othei', and the result is a well-assorted marriage." THE WIDOWS ORDEAL. 120 The duke, as is often the case with wise men who many rather late, and take damsels rather youthful to their bosoms, became dotingly fond of his wife, and very properly indulged her in all things. He was, consequently, cried up by his subjects in general, and by the ladies in partic- ular, as a pattern for husbands ; and. in the end, from the wonderful docility with which he sub- mitted to be reined and checked, acquired the amiable and enviable appellation of Duke Phili- bert the wife-ridden. There was only one thing that disturbed the conjugal felicity of this paragon of husbands : though a considerable time elapsed after his mar- riage, there was still no prospect of an heir. The good duke left no means untried to propitiate Heaven. He made vows and pilgrimages, he fasted and he prayed, but all to no purpose. The courtiers were all astonished at the circumstance. They could not account for it. While the mean- est peasant in the country had sturdy brats by dozens, without putting up a prayer, the duke wore himself to skin and bone with penances and fastings, yet seemed farther off from his object than ever. At length the worthy prince fell dangerously ill, and felt his end approaching. He looked sor- rowfully and dubiously upon his young and tender spouse, who hung over him with tears and sob- bings. " Alas ! " said he, " tears are soon dried from youthful eyes, and sorrow lies lightly on a youthful heart. In a little while thou wilt forget 9 130 THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL. m the arms of another husband him who has loved thee so tenderly." " Never ! never ! " cried the duchess. "' Never will I cleave to another ! Alas, that my lord should think me capable of such inconstancy ! " The worthy and wife-ridden duke was soothed by her assurances ; for he could not brook the thought of giving her up even after he should be dead. Still he \vished to have some pledge of her enduring constancy. " Far be it from me, my dearest wife," said he, *' to control thee through a long life. A year and a day of strict fidelity will appease my troubled spirit. Promise to remain faithful to my memory for a year and a day, and I will die in peace." The duchess made a solemn vow to that effect, but the uxorious feelings of the duke were not yet satisfied. " Safe bind, safe find," thought he ; so he made a will, bequeathing to her all his do- mains, on condition of her remaining true to him for a year and a day after his decease ; but, should it appear that, within that time, she had in any wise lapsed from her fidelity, the inheritance should go to his nephew, the lord of a neighbor ing territory. Having made his will, the good duke died and was buried. Scarcely was he in his tomb, when his nephew came to take possession, thinking, as his uncle had died without issue, the domains would be devised to him of course. He was in a furious passion when the will was produced, and the young widow declared inheritor of the dukedom. As he was a violent, high-handed THE WIDOWS ORDEAL. 131 man, and one of the sturdiest knights in the land, feai^s were entertained that he might attempt to seize on the territories by force. He had, how- ever, two bachelor uncles for bosom counsellors, — swaggering, nikehelly old cavaliers, who, hav- ing led loose and riotous lives, prided themselves upon knowing the world, and being deeply expe- rienced in human nature. " Prithee, man, be of good cheer," said they ; " the duchess is a young and buxom widow. She has just buried our brother, who, God rest his soul ! was somewhat too much given to praying and fasting, and kept his pretty wife always tied to his girdle. She is now like a bird from a cage. Think you she will keep her vow ? Pooh, pooh — impossible ! Take our words for it — we know mankind, and, above all, womankind. She cannot hold out for such a length of time ; it is not in woman- hood, — it is not in widowhood ; we know it, and that 's enough. Keep a sharp lookout upon the widow, therefore, and within the twelvemonth you will catch her tripping, and then the duke- dom is your own." The nephew was pleased with this counsel, and immediately placed spies round the duchess, and bribed several of her servants to keep watch upon her, so that she could not take a single step, even from one apartment of her palace to another, without being observed. Never was young and beautiful widow exposed to so terrible an ordeal. The duchess was aware of the watch tlms kept upon her. Though confident of her own recti- 132 THE WIDOWS ORDEAL. tufle, she knew that it is not enough for a woman to be virtuous, — she must be above the reach of slander. For the whole term of her probation, therefore, she proclaimed a strict non-intercourse with the other sex. She had females for cabinet ministers and chamberlains, through whom she transacted all her public and private concerns ; and it is said that never were the affairs of the dukedom so adroitly administered. All males were rigorously excluded from the palace ; she never went out of its precincts, and whenever she moved about its courts and gardens, she suiTounded herself with a body-guard of young maids of honor, commanded by dames re- nowned for discretion. She slept in a bed without curtains, placed in the centre of a room illumi- nated by innumerable wax tapers. Four ancient spinsters, virtuous as Virginia, perfect dragons of watchfulness, who only slept during the day- time, kept vigils throughout the night, seated in the four corners of the room on stools without backs or arms, and with seats cut in checkers of the hardest wood, to keep them from dozing. Thus wisely and wearily did the young duchess conduct herself for twelve long months, and slan- der almost bit her tongue off in despair, at find- ing no room even for a surmise. Never was ordeal more burdensome, or more enduringly sus- tained. The year passed away. The last, odd day ai-rived, and a long, long day it was. It was the twenty-first of June, the longest day in the year. It seemed as if it would never come to an end. THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL. 133 A thousand times did the duchess and her ladies watch the sun from the windows of the palace, as he slowly climbed the vault of heaven, and seemed still more slowly to roll down. They could not help expressing their wonder, now and then, why the duke should have tagged this su- pernumerary day to the end of the year, as if three hundred and sixty-five days were not suffi- cient to try and task the fidelity of any woman. It is the last grain that turns the scale — the last drop that overflows the goblet — and the last moment of delay that exhausts the patience. By the time the sun sank below the horizon, the duchess was in a fidget that passed all bounds, and, though several hours were yet to pass before the day regularly expired, she could not have re- mained those hours in durance to gain a royal crown, much less a ducal coronet. So she gave orders, and her palfrey, magnificently caparisoned, was brought into the court-yard of the castle, with palfreys for all her ladies in attendance. In this vi^ay she sallied forth, just as the sun had gone down. It was a mission of piety, — a pilgrim cavalcade to a convent at the foot of a neighbor ing mountain, — to return thanks to the blessed Virgin, for having sustained her through this fearful ordeal. The orisons performed, the duchess and her ladies returned, ambling gently along the border of a forest. It was about that mellow hour of twilight when night and day are mingled, and all objects are indistinct. Suddenly some monstrous animal sprang from out a thicket, with fearful 134 THE WIDOWS ORDEAL. bowlings. The female body-guard was thrown into confusion, and fled different ways. It was some time before they recovered from their panic, and gathered once more together ; but the duchess was not to be found. The greatest anxiety was felt for her safety. The hazy mist of twilight had prevented their distinguishing perfectly the animal which had affrighted them. Some thought it a wolf, others a bear, others a wild man of the woods. For upwards of an hour did they be- leaguer the forest, without daring to venture in, and were on the point of giving up the duchess as torn to pieces and devoured, when, to their great joy, they beheld her advancing in the gloom, supported by a stately cavalier. He was a stranger knight, whom nobody knew. It was impossible to distinguish his countenance in the dark ; but all the ladies agreed that he was of noble presence and captivating address. He had rescued the duchess from the very fangs of the monster, which, he assured the ladies, was neither a wolf, nor a bear, nor yet a wild man of the woods, but a veritable fiery dragon, a species of monster peculiarly hostile to beautiful females in the days of chivalry, and which all the efforts of knight-errantry had not been able to extirpate. The ladies crossed themselves when they heard of the danger from which they had escaped, and could not enough admire the gallantry of the cavalier. The duchess would fain have prevailed on her deliverer to accompany her to her court ; but he had no time to spare, being a knight- THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL. 135 errant who had many adventures on hand, and many distressed damsels and afflicted widows to rescue and relieve in various parts of the coun- try. Taking a respectful leave, therefore, he pursued his wayfaring, and the duchess and her train returned to the palace. Throughout the whole way, the ladies were unwearied in chanting the praises of the stranger knight ; nay, many of them would willingly have incurred the danger of the dragon to have enjoyed the happy deliver- ance of the duchess. As to the latter, she rode pensively along, but said nothing. No sooner Avas the adventure of the wood made public, than a whirlwind was raised about the ears of the beautiful duchess. The bluster- ing nephew of the deceased duke went about, armed to the teeth, with a swaggering uncle at each shoulder, ready to back him, and swore the duchess had forfeited her domain. It was in vain that she called all the saints, and angels, and her ladies in attendance into the bargain, to witness that she had passed a year and a day of immacu- late fidelity. One fatal hour remained to be accounted for ; and into the space of one little hour sins enough may be conjured up by evil tongues to blast the fame of a whole life of virtue. The two graceless uncles, who had seen the world, were ever ready to bolster the matter through, and as they were brawny, broad-shoul- dered warriors, and veterans in brawl as well as debauch, they had great sway with the multitude. If any one pretended to assert the innocence of 136 THE WIDOWS ORDEAL. the duchess, they interrupted him with a loud ha ! ha ! of derision. " A pretty story, truly," would they cry, " about a wolf and a dragon, and a young widow rescued in the dark by a sturdy varlet, who dares not show his face in the day- light. You may tell that to those who do not know human nature ; for our parts, we know the sex, and that's enough." If, however, the other repeated his assertion, they would suddenly knit their brows, swell, look big, and put their hands upon their swords. As few people like to fight in a cause that does not touch their own interests, the nephew and the uncles were suffered to have their way, and swag- ger uncontradicted. The matter was at length referred to a tribunal composed of all the dignitaries of the dukedom, and many and repeated consultations were held. The character of the duchess throughout the year was as bright and spotless as the moon in a cloud- less night ; one fatal hour of darkness alone inter- vened to eclipse its brightness. Finding human sagacity incapable of dispelling the mystery, it was determined to leave the question to Heaven ; or, in other words, to decide it by the ordeal of the sword, — a sage tribunal in the age of chiv- alry. The nephew and two bully uncles were to maintain their accusation in listed combat, and six months were allowed to the duchess to pro- vide herself with three champions, to meet them in the field. Should she fail in this, or should her champions be vanquished, her honor would be considered as attainted, her fidelity as forfeit, TFIE WIDOWS ORDEAL. 137 and her dukedom would go to the nephew, as a matter of right. With this determination the duchess was fain to comply. Proclamations were accordingly made, and heralds sent to various parts ; but day after day, week after week, and month after month elapsed, without any champion appearing to assert her loyalty throughout that darksome hour. The fair widow was reduced to despair, when tidings reached her of grand tournaments to be held at Toledo, in celebration of the nuptials of Don Roderick, the last of the Gothic kings, with the Morisco princess Exilona. As a last resort, the duchess repaired to the Spanish court, to implore the gallantry of its assembled chivalry. The ancient city of Toledo was a scene of gorgeous revelry on the event of the royal nup- tials. The youthful king, brave, ardent, and magnificent, and his lovely bride, beaming with all the radiant beauty of the East, were hailed with shouts and acclamations whenever they ap- peared. Their nobles vied with each other in the luxury of their attire, their prancing steeds, and splendid retinues ; and the haughty dames of the court appeared in a blaze of jewels. In the midst of all this pageantry, the beauti- ful but afflicted Duchess of Lorraine made her approach to the throne. She was dressed in black, and closely veiled ; four duennas of the most staid and severe aspect, and six beautiful demoiselles, formed her female attendants. She was guarded by several very ancient, withered, and gray-headed cavaliers ; and her train was 138 THE WIDOWS ORDEAL. borne by one of the most deformed and diminu- tive dwarfs in existence. Advancing to the foot of the throne, she knelt down, and, throwing up her veil, revealed a coun- tenance so beautiful that half the courtiers pres- ent were ready to renounce wives and mistresses, and devote themselves to her service ; but when she made known that she came in quest of cham- pions to defend her fame, every cavalier pressed forward to offer his arm and sw^ord, without in- quiring into the merits of the case ; for it seemed clear that so beauteous a lady could have done nothing but what was right ; and that, at any rate, she ought to be championed in following the bent of her humors, whether right or wrong. Encouraged by such gallant zeal, the duchess suffered herself to be raised from the ground, and related the whole story of her distress. When she concluded, the king remained for some time silent, charmed by the music of her voice. At length, " As I hope for salvation, most beautiful duchess," said he, " were I not a sovereign king, and bound in duty to my kingdom, I myself would put lance in rest to vindicate your cause ; as it is, I here give full permission to my knights, and promise lists and a fair field, and that the contest shall take place before the walls of Toledo, in presence of my assembled court." As soon as the pleasure of the king was known, there w^as a strife among the cavaliers present for the honor of the contest. It was decided by lot, and the successful candidates were objects of great envy, for every one was ambitious of finding fa- vor in the eyes of the beautiful widow. THE WIDOWS ORDEAL. 139 Missives were sent summoning the nephew and his two uncles to Toledo, to maintain their accu- sation, and a day was appointed for the combat. When the day arrived all Toledo was in commo- tion at an early hour. The lists had been pre- pared in the usual place, just without the walls, at the foot of the rugged rocks on which the city is built, and on that beautiful meadow along the Tagus, known by the name of the King's Garden. The populace had already assembled, each one eager to secure a favorable place ; the balconies were filled with the ladies of the court, clad in their richest attire, and bands of youthful knights, splendidly armed and decorated with their ladies' devices, were managing their superbly caparisoned steeds about the field. The king at length came forth in state, accompanied by the queen Exilona. They took their seats in a raised balcony, under a canopy of rich damask ; and, at sight of them, the people rent the air with acclamations. The nephew and his uncles now rode into the field, armed cap-a-pie, and followed by a train of cavaliers of their own roystering cast, — great swearers and carousers, arrant swashbucklers, with clanking armor and jingling spurs. When the people of Toledo beheld the vaunting and discourteous appearance of these knights, they were more anxious than ever for the success of the gentle duchess; but, at the same time, the sturdy and stalwart frames of these warriors showed that whoever won the victory from them must do it at the cost of many a bitter blow. As the nephew and his riotous crew rode in at 140 THE WIDOWS ORDEAL. one side of the field, the fair widow appeared at the other, with her suite of grave gray-headed courtiers, her ancient duennas and dainty demoi- selles, and the little dwarf toiling along under the weight of her train. Every one made way for her as she passed, and blessed her beautiful face, and prayed for success to her cause. She took her seat in a lower balcony, not far from the sovereigns ; and her pale face, set off by her mourning weeds, was as the moon, shining forth from among the clouds of night. The trumpets sounded for the combat. The warriors were just entering the lists, when a stranger knight, armed in panoply, and followed by two pages and an esquire, came galloping into the field, and, riding up to the royal balcony, claimed the combat as a matter of right. " In me," cried he, " behold the cavalier who had the happiness to rescue the beautiful duchess from the peril of the forest, and the misfortune to bring on her this grievous calumny. It was but recently, in the course of my errantry, that tidings of her wrongs have reached my ears, and I have urged hither at all speed, to stand forth in her vindication." No sooner did the duchess hear the accents of the knight than she recognized his voice, and joined her prayers with his that he might enter the lists. The difficulty was to determine which of the three champions already appointed should yield his place, each insisting on the honor of the combat. The stranger knight would have settled the point, by taking the whole contest upon him- 0\ LUIS AND THE GRAiND PRIOR Wolferts Roost F.Ul ITEW VOPJK. &.y. PUTNAM: THE WIDOWS ORDEAL. 141 self ; but this the other knights would not permit. It was at length determined, as before, by lot, and the cavalier who lost the chance retired murmur- ing and disconsolate. The trumpets again sounded — the lists were opened. The arrogant nephew and his two drawcansir uncles appeared so completely cased in steel, that they and their steeds were like moving masses of iron. When they understood the stranger knight to be the same that had res- cued the duchess from her peril, they greeted him with the most boisterous derision. " ho ! sir Knight of the Dragon," said they, "you who pretend to champion fair widows in the dark, come on, and vindicate your deeds of darkness in the open day." The only reply of the cavalier was to put lance in rest, and brace himself for the encounter. Need- less is it to relate the particulars of a battle, which was like so many hundred combats that have been said and sung in prose and verse. Who is there but must have foreseen the event of a contest where Heaven had to decide on the guilt or inno- cence of the most beautiful and immaculate of widows ? The sagacious reader, deeply read in this kind of judicial combats, can imagine the encounter of the graceless nephew and the stranger knight. He sees their concussion, man to man, and horse to horse, in mid career, and sir Graceless hurled to the ground and slain. He will not wonder that the assailants of the brawny uncles were less successful in their rude encounter; but he will 142 THE WIDOWS ORDEAL. picture to himself the stout stranger spurring to their rescue, in the very critical moment ; he will see him transfixing one with his lance, and cleav- ing the other to the chine with a back stroke of his sword, thus leaving the trio of accusers dead upon the field, and establishing the immaculate fidelity of the duchess, and her title to the duke- dom, beyond the shadow of a doubt. The air rang with acclamations ; nothing was heard but praises of the beauty and virtue of the duchess, and of the prowess of the stranger knight; but the public joy was still more increased when the champion raised his visor, and revealed the countenance of one of the bravest cavaliers of Spain, renowned for his gallantry in the service of the sex, and who had been round the world in quest of similar adventures. That worthy knight, however, was severely M'^ounded, and remained for a long time ill of his wounds. The lovely duchess, grateful for having twice owed her protection to his arm, attended him daily during his illness, and finally rewarded his gallantry with her hand. The king would fain have had the knight estab- lish his title to such high advancement by farther deeds of arms ; but his courtiers declared that he already merited the lady, by thus vindicating her fame and fortune in a deadly combat to out- rance ; and the lady herself hinted that she was perfectly satisfied of his prowess in arms, from the proofs she had received of his achievement in the forest. Their nuptials were celebrated with great mag- THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL. 143 nilicence. The present husband of the duchess did not pray and ftist like his predecessor, Phili^ bert the wife-ridden ; yet he found greater favor in the eyes of Heaven, for their union was blessed with a numerous progeny : the daughters chaste and beauteous as their mother ; the sons stout and valiant as their sire, and renowned, like him, for relieving disconsolate damsels and desolated widows. THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. N the course of a tour in Sicily, in the 1 days of my juvenility, I passed some ^^^^Jl little time at the ancient city of Catania, at the foot of Mount ^tna. Here I became acquainted with the Chevalier L , an old Knight of Malta. It was not many years after the time that Napoleon had dislodged the knights from their island, and he still wore the insignia of his order. He was not, however, one of those reliques of that once chivalrous body, who have been described as " a few wornout old men, creep- ing about certain parts of Europe, with the Mal- tese cross on their breasts " ; on the contrary, though advanced in life, his form was still lithe and vigorous. He had a pale, thin, intellectual visage, with a high forehead, and a bright, vision- ary eye. He seemed to take a fancy to me, as I certainly did to him, and w^e soon became inti- mate. I visited him occasionally at his apart- ments, in the wing of an old palace, looking toward Mount JEtna. He was an antiquary, a virtuoso, and a connoisseur. His rooms were decorated with mutilated statues, dug up from Grecian and Roman ruins ; old vases, lachrymals, and sepul- chral lamps. He had astronomical and chemical THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 145 instruments, and black-letter books, in various languages. I found that he had dipped a little in cliimerical studies, and had a hankering after astrology and alchemy. He aifected to believe in dreams and visions, and delighted in the fanci- ful Rosicrucian doctrines. I cannot persuade myself, however, that he really believed in all these ; I rather think he loved to let his imagi- nation carry him away into the boundless fairy land which they unfolded. In company with the chevalier, I made several excursions on horseback about the environs of Catania, and the picturesque skirts of Mount ^tna. One of these led through a village which had sprung up on the very track of an ancient eruption, the houses being built of lava. At one time we passed, for some distance, along a narrow lane, between two high dead convent-walls. It was a cut-throat looking place, in a country where assassinations are frequent ; and just about mid- way through it we observed blood upon the pave- ment and the walls, as if a murder had actually been committed there. The chevalier spurred on his horse, until he had extricated himself completely from this sus- picious neighborhood. He then observed that it reminded him of a similar blind alley in Malta, infamous on account of the many assassinations that had taken place there ; concerning one of which he related a long and tragical story, that lasted until we reached Catania. It involved various circumstances of a wild and supernatural character, but which he assured me were handed. 10 146 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. down in tradition, and generally credited by the old inhabitants of Malta. As I like to pick up strange stories, and as I was particularly struck with several parts of this, I made a minute of it, on my return to my lodg- ings. The memorandum was lost, with several of my travelling papers, and the story had faded from my mind, when recently, on perusing a French memoir, I came suddenly upon it, dressed up, it is true, in a very different manner, but agreeing in the leading facts, and given upon the word of that famous adventurer, the Count Cag- liostro. I have amused myself, during a snowy day in the country, by rendering it roughly into English, for the entertainment of a youthful circle round the Christmas fire. It was well received by my auditors, who, however, are rather easily pleased. One proof of its merits is, that it sent some of the youngest of them quaking to their beds, and gave them very fearful dreams. Hoping that it may have the same effect upon the ghost-hunt- ing reader, I subjoin it. I would observe, that wherever I have modified the French version of the story, it has been in conformity to some recol- lection of the narrative of my friend, the Knight of Malta. THE GRAND PRIOR OF MINORCA. 147 THE GRAND PRIOR OF MINORCA. A VERITABLE GHOST STORY. " Keep my Avits, heaven ! They say spirits appear To melancholy minds, and the graves open! " P' LETCHER. About the middle of the last century, while the Knights of Saint John of Jerusalem still maintained something of their ancient state and sway in the island of Malta, a tragical event took place there, which is the groundwork of the fol- lowing narrative. It may be as well to premise, that, at the time we are treating of, the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem, grown excessively wealthy, had degen- erated from its originally devout and warlike character. Instead of being a hardy body of " monk-knights," sworn soldiers of the Cross, fight- ing the Paynim in the Holy Land, or scouring the Mediterranean, and scourging the Barbary coasts with their galleys, or feeding the poor, and attending upon the sick at their hospitals, they led a life of luxury and libertinism, and were to be found in the most voluptuous courts of Europe. The order, in fact, had become a mode of provid- ing for the needy branches of the Catholic aristoc- racy of Europe. "A commandery," we are told, was a splendid provision for a younger brother ; and men of rank, however dissolute, provided they belonged to the highest aristocracy, became Knights of Malta, just as they did bishops, or 14S THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. colonels of regiments, or court chamberlains. Al'ter a brief residence at Malta, the knights passed the rest of their time in their own countries, or only made a visit now and then to the island. While tliere, having but little military duty to perform, they beguiled their idleness by paying attentions to the ftiir. There was one circle of society, however, into which they could not obtain currency. This was composed of a few families of the old Maltese nobility, natives of the island. These families, not being permitted to enroll any of their mem- bers in the order, affected to hold no intercourse Math its chevaliers ; admitting none into their ex- clusive coteries but tlie Grand Master, whom they acknowledged as their sovereign, and the members of the chapter which composed his council. To indemnify themselves for this exclusion, the chevaliers carried their gallantries into the next class of society, composed of those who held civil, administrative, and judicial situations. The ladies of this class were called honorate, or honorables, to distinguish them from the inferior orders ; and among them were many of superior grace, beauty, and fascination. Even in this more hospitable class, the cheva- liers were not all equally favored. Those of Ger- many had the decided preference, owing to their fair and fresh complexions, and the kindliness of their manners ; next to these, came the Spanish cavaliers, on account of their profound and courte- ous devotion, and most discreet secrecy. Singular TH^ GRAND PRIOR OF MINORCA. MO as it may seem, the chevaliers of France fared the worst. The Maltese ladies dreaded their volatility, and their proneness to boast of their amours, and shunned all entanglement v/ith them. They were forced, therefore, to content themselves with conquests among females of the lower orders. They revenged themselves, after the gay French manner, by making the " honorate " the objects of all kinds of jests and mystifications ; by pry- ing into their tender affairs with the more favored chevaliers, and making them the theme of song and epigram. About this time a French vessel arrived at Malta, bringing out a distinguished personage of the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem, the Com- mander de Foulquerre, who came to solicit the post of commander-in-chief of the galleys. He was descended from an old and warrior line of French nobility, his ancestors having long been . seneschals of Poitou, and claiming descent from the first Counts of Angouleme. The arrival of the commander caused a little uneasiness among the peaceably inclined, for he bore the character, in the island, of being fiery, arrogant, and quarrelsome. He had already been three times at Malta, and on each visit had signal- ized himself by some rash and deadly afiTray. As he was now tliirty-five years of age, however, it was hoped that time might have taken off the fiery edge of his spirit, and that he might prove more quiet and sedate than formerly. The com- mander set up an establishment befitting his rank and pretensions ; for he arrogated to himself an 150 TEE KNIGHT OF MALTA. importance greater even than that of the Grand Master. His house immediately became the ral- lying-place of all the young French chevaliers. They informed him of all the slights they had ex- perienced or imagined, and indulged their petu- lant and satirical vein at the expense of the honorate and their admirers. The chevaliers of other nations soon found the topics and tone of conversation at the commander's irksome and offensive, and gradually ceased to visit there. The commander remained at the head of a national clique, who looked up to him as their model. If he was not as boisterous and quarrelsome as formerly, he had become haughty and overbear- ing. He was fond of talking over his past affairs of punctilio and bloody duel. When walking the streets, he was generally attended by a ruffling train of young French chevaliers, who caught his own air of assumption and bravado. These he would conduct to the scenes of his deadly encounters, point out the very spot where each fatal lunge had been given, and dwell vainglori- ously on every particular. Under his tuition the young French chevaliers began to add bluster and arrogance to their former petulance and levity ; they fired up on the most trivial occasions, particularly with those who had been most successful with the fair; and would put on the most intolerable drawcansir airs. The other chevaliers conducted themselves with all possible forbearance and reserve ; but they saw it would be impossible to keep on long, in this man- ner, without coming to an open rupture. THE GRAND PRIOR OF MINORCA. 151 Among the Spanish cavaliers was one named Don Luis de Lima Vasconcellos. He was dis- tantly related to the Grand Master ; and had been enrolled at an early age among his pages, but had been rapidly promoted by him, until, at the age of twenty-six, he had been given the richest Spanish commandery in the order. He had, moreover, been fortunate with the fair, with one of whom, the most beautiful honorata of Malta, he had long maintained the most tender corre- spondence. The character, rank, and connections of Don Luis put him on a par with the imperious Com- mander de Foulquerre, and pointed him out as a leader and champion to his countrymen. The Spanish cavaliers repaired to him, therefore, in a body ; represented all the grievances they had sustained and the evils they apprehended, and urged him to use his influence with the com- mander and his adherents to put a stop to the growing abuses. Don Luis was gratified by this mark of con- fidence and esteem on the part of his countrymen, and promised to have an interview with the Com- mander de Foulquerre on the subject. He re- solved to conduct himself with the utmost caution and delicacy on the occasion ; to represent to the commander the evil consequences which might result from the inconsiderate conduct of the young French chevaliers, and to entreat him to exert the great influence he so deservedly possessed over them, to restrain their excesses. Don Luis was aware, however, of the peril that attended any 152 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. interview of the kind with this imperious and fractious man, and apprehended, however it might commence, that it would terminate in a duel. Still it was an afifair of honor, in which Castilian dignity was concerned ; beside, he had a lurking disgust at the overbearing manners of De Foul- querre, and perhaps had been somewhat offended by certain intrusive attentions which he had pre- sumed to pay to the beautiful honorata. It was now Holy Week ; a time too sacred for worldly feuds and passions, especially in a com- munity under the dominion of a religious order : it was agreed, therefore, that the dangerous inter- view in question should not take place until after the Easter holidays. It is probable, from sub- sequent circumstances, that the Commander de Foulquerre had some information of this arrange- ment among the Spanish cavaliers, and was de- termined to be beforehand, and to mortify the pride of their champion, who was thus preparing to read him a lecture. He chose Good Friday for his purpose. On this sacred day it is custom- ary, in Catholic countries, to make a tour of all the churches, offering up prayers in each. In every Catholic church, as is well known, there is a vessel of holy water near the door. In this, every one, on entering, dips his fingers, and makes therewith the sign of the cross on his forehead and breast. An office of gallantry, among the young Spaniards, is to stand near the door, dip their hands in the holy vessel, and extend them courteously and respectfidly to any lady of their acquaintance who may enter ; who thus receives THI-: GRAND PRIOR OF MINORCA. 155 the sacred water at second hand, on the tips of her fingers, and proceeds to cross herself with all due decorum. The Spaniards, who are the most jealous of lovers, are impatient when this piece of devotional gallantry is proffered to the object of their affections by any other hand : on Good Friday, therefore, when a lady makes a tour of the churches, it is the usage among them for the inamorato to follow her from church to church, so as to present her the holy water at the door of each ; thus testifying his own devotion, and at the same time preventing the officious services of a rival. On the day in question Don Luis followed the beautiful honoratci, to whom, as has already been observed, he had long been devoted. At the very first church she visited, the Commander de Foul- querre was stationed at the portal, with several of the young French chevaliers about him. Be- fore Don Luis could offer her the holy water, he was anticipated by the commander, who thrust himself between them, and, while he performed the gallant office to the lady, rudely turned his back upon her admirer, and trod upon his feet. The insult was enjoyed by the young Frenchmen who were present : it was too deep and grave to be forgiven by Spanish pride ; and at once put an end to all Don Luis's plans of caution and for- bearance. He repressed his passion for the mo- ment, however, and waited until all the parties left the church : then, accosting the commander with an air of coolness and unconcern, he inquired after his health, and asked to what church he 154 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. proposed making his second visit. " To the Mag- isterial Church of St. John." Don Luis offered to conduct him thither by the shortest route. His oifer was accepted, apparently without suspicion, and they proceeded together. After walking some distance, they entered a long, narrow lane, with- out door or window opening upon it, called the " Strada Stretta," or narrow street. It was a street in which duels were tacitly permitted, or connived at, in Malta, and were suffered to pass as accidental encounters. Everywhere else they were prohibited. This restriction had been in- stituted to diminish the number of duels formerly so frequent in Malta. As a farther precaution to render these encounters less fatal, it was an of- fence, punishable with death, for any one to enter this street armed with either poniard or pistol. It was a lonely, dismal street, just wide enough for two men to stand upon their guard and cross their swords ; few persons ever traversed it, un- less with some sinister design ; and on any pre- concerted duello, the seconds posted themselves at each end, to stop all passengers and prevent in- terruption. Li the present instance, the parties had scarce entered the street, when Don Luis drew his sword, and called upon the commander to defend himself De Foulquerre was evidently taken by sur- prise : he drew back, and attempted to expostu- late ; but Don Luis persisted in defying him to the combat. After a second or two, he likewise drew his gword, but immediately lowered the point. THE GRAND PRIOR OF MINORCA. 155 " Good Friday ! " ejaculated he, shaking his head : " one word with you ; it is full six years since I have been in a confessional : I am shocked at the state of my conscience ; but within three days — that is to say, on Monday next " — Don Luis would listen to nothino^. Thou":h natui'ally of a peaceable disposition, he had been stung to fury ; and people of that character, when once incensed, are deaf to reason. He compelled the commander to put himself on his guard. The latter, though a man accustomed to brawl and battle, was singularly dismayed. Terror was visible in all his features. He placed himself with his back to the wall, and the weapons were crossed. The contest was brief and fatal. At the very first thrust the sword of Don Luis passed through the body of his antagonist. The commander staggered to the wall, and leaned On Good Friday ! " ejaculated he again, with a failing voice and despairing accents. " Heaven pardon you ! " added he ; " take my sword to Tetefoulques, and have a hundred masses per- formed in the chapel of the castle, for the repose of my soul ! " With these words he expired. The fury of Don Luis was at an end. He stood aghast, gazing at the bleeding body of the commander. He called to mind the prayer of the deceased for three days' respite, to make his peace with Heaven ; he had refused it ; had sent him to the grave, with all his sins upon his head ! His conscience smote him to the core ; he gathered up the sword of the commander, which 156 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. he had been enjoined to take to Tetefoulques, and hurried from the fatal Strada Stretta. The duel, of course, made a great noise in Malta, but had no injurious effect on the worldly fortunes of Don Luis. He made a full declara- tion of the whole matter, before the proper au- thorities ; the chapter of the order considered it one of those casual encounters of the Strada Stretta, which were mourned over, but toler- ated ; the public, by whom the late commander had been generally detested, declared that he deserved his fate. It was but three days after the event that Don Luis was advanced to one of the higliest dignities of the order, being invested by the Grand Master with the Priorship of the kingdom of Minorca. From that time forward, however, the whole character and conduct of Don Luis underwent a change. He became a prey to a dark melan- choly, which nothing could assuage. The most austere piety, the severest penances, had no effect in allaying the horror which preyed upon his mind. He was absent for a long time from Malta, having gone, it was said, on remote pil- grimages : when he returned, lie was more hag- gard than ever. There seemed something mys- terious and inexplicable in this disorder of his mind. The following is the revelation, made by himself, of the horrible visions or chimeras by which he was haunted : — " When I had made my declaration before the chapter," said he, " my provocations were publicly known, — I had made my peace with man ; but it THE GRAND PRIOR OF' MINORCA. 157 was not so with God, nor with my confessor, nor with my own conscience. My act was doubly criminal, from the day on which it was committed, and fi-om my refusal to a delay of three days, for the victim of my resentment to receive the sacra- ments. His despairing ejaculation, ' Good Fri- day ! Good Friday ! ' continually rang in my ears. ' Why did I not grant the respite ! ' cried I to myself; 'was it not enough to kill the body, but must I seek to kill the soul ! ' " On the night following Friday I started sud- denly from my sleep. An unaccountable horror was upon me. I looked wildly around. It seemed as if I were not in my apartment, nor in my bed, but in the fatal Strada Stretta, lying on the pavement. I again saw the commander lean- ing against the wall ; I again heard his dying words : ' Take my sword to Tetefoulques, and have a hundred masses performed in the chapel of the castle, for the repose of my soul ! ' " On the following night I caused one of my servants to sleep in the same room with me. I saw and heard nothing, either on that night or any of the nights following, until the next Friday, when I had again the same vision, with this dif ference, that my valet seemed to be lying some distance from me on the pavement of the Strada Stretta. The vision continued to be repeated on every Friday night, the commander always ap- pearing in the same manner, and uttering the same words : ' Take my sword to Tetefoulques, and have a hundred masses performed in the chapel of the castle, for the repose of my soul ! ' 158 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. " On questioning my servant on the subject, he stated that on these occasions he dreamed that he was lying in a very narrow street, but he neither saw nor heard anything of the com- mander. " I knew nothing of this Tetefoulques, whither the defunct was so urgent I should carry his sword. I made inquiries, therefore, concerning it, among the French chevaliers. They informed me that it was an old castle, situated about four leagues from Poitiers, in the midst of a forest. It had been built in old times, several centuries since, by Foulques Taillefer, (or Fulke Hack- iron), a redoubtable hard-fighting Count of An- goulemc, who gave it to an illegitimate son, afterwards created Grand Seneschal of Poitou, which son became the progenitor of the Foul- querres of Tetefoulques, hereditary seneschals of Poitou. They farther informed me, that strange stories were told of this old castle, in the sur- rounding country, and that it contained many curious reliques. Among these were the arms of Foulques Taillefer, together with those of the warriors he had slain ; and that it was an imme- morial usage with the Foulquerres to have the weapons deposited there which they had yielded either in war or single combat. This, then, was the reason of the dying injunction of the com- mander respecting his sword. I carried this weapon with me wherever I went, but still I neglected to comply with his request. " The vision still continued to harass me with undiminished horror. I repaired to Rome, where THE GRAND PRIOR OF MINORCA. 159 I confessed myself to the Grand Cardinal peni- tentiary, and informed him of the terrors with which I was haunted. He promised me absolu- tion, after I should have performed certain acts of penance, the principal of which was to execute the dying request of the commander, by carrying his sword to Tetefoulques, and having the hun- dred masses performed in the chapel of the castle for the repose of his soul. " I set out for France as speedily as possible, and made no delay in my journey. On arriving at Poitiers, I found that the tidings of the death of the commander had reached there, but had caused no more affliction than among the people of Malta. Leaving my equipage in the town, I put on the garb of a pilgrim, and taking a guide, set out on foot for Tetefoulques. Indeed the roads in this part of the country were impracti- cable for carriages. "I found the castle of Tetefoulques a grand but gloomy and dilapidated pile. All the gates were closed, and there reigned over the whole place an air of almost savage loneliness and de- sertion. I had understood that its only inhabi- tants were the concierge, or warder, and a kind of hermit Avho had charge of the chapel. After ringing for some time at the gate, I at length succeeded in brinoino; forth the warder, who bowed with reverence to my pilgrim's garb. I begged him to conduct me to the chapel, that being the end of my pilgrimage. We found the hermit there, chanting the funeral service ; a dismal sound to one who came to perform a pen- 160 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. ance for the death of a member of the family. When he had ceased to chant, I informed him that I came to accomplish an obligation of con- science, and that I wished him to perform a hun- dred masses for the repose of the soiil of the commander. He replied that, not being in orders, he was not authorized to perform mass, but that he would willingly undertake to see that my debt of conscience was discharged. I laid my offer- ing on the altar, and would have placed the sword of the commander there likewise. ' Hold ! ' said the hermit, with a melancholy shake of the head, ' this is no place for so deadly a weapon, that has so often been bathed in Christian blood. Take it to the armory ; you will find there trophies enough of like character. It is a place into which I never enter.' " The warder here took up the theme abandoned by the peaceful man of God. He assured me that I would see in the armory the swords of all the warrior race of Foulquerres, together with those of the enemies over whom they had tri- umphed. This, he observed, had been a usage kept up since the time of Mellusine, and of her husband, Geoffrey a la Grand-dent, or Geoffrey with the Great-tooth. " I followed the gossiping warder to the armory. It was a great dusty hall, hung round with Gothic- looking portraits of a stark line of warriors, each with his weapon, and the weapons of those he had slain in battle, hung beside his picture. The most conspicuous portrait was that of Foulques Tail- lefer (Fulke Hack-iron), Count of Aiigouleme, and THE GRAND PRIOR OF MINORCA. 1 Gl foLinder of the castle. He was represented at full length, armed cap-a-pie, and grasping a huge buckler, on which were emblazoned three lions passant. The figure was so striking, that it seemed ready to start from the canvas ; and I observed beneath this picture a trophy composed of many weapons, proofs of the numerous tri- umphs of this hard-fighting old cavalier. Beside the weapons connected with the portraits, there were swords of all shapes, sizes, and centuries, hung round the hall, with piles of armor placed, as it were, in effigy. *• On each side of an immense chimney were suspended the portraits of the first seneschal of Poitou (the illegitimate son of Foulques Tail- lefer) and his wife, Isabella de Lusignan, the pro- genitors of the grim race of Fouiquerres that frowned around. They had the look of being perfect likenesses ; and as I gazed on them, I fancied I could trace in their antiquated features some family resemblance to their unfortunate de- scendant whom I had slain ! This was a dismal neighborhood, yet the armory was the only part of the castle that had a habitable air ; so I asked the warder whether he could not make a fire, and give me something for supper there, and prepare me a bed in one corner. " 'A fire and a supper you shall have, and that cheerfully, most worthy pilgrim,' said he ; ' but as to a bed, I advise you to come and sleep in my chamber.' " ' AVhy so ? ' inquired I ; ' why shall I not sleep in this hall?' 11 162 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. " ' I have my reasons ; I will make a bed for you close to mine.' " I made no objections, for I recollected that it was Friday, and I dreaded the return of my vision. He brought in billets of wood, kindled a fire in the great overhanging chimney, and then went forth to prepare my supper. I drew a heavy chair before the fire, and seating myself in it. gazed musingly round upon the portraits of the Foulquerres and the antiquated armor and weap- ons, the mementos of many a bloody deed. As the day declined, the smoky draperies of the hall gradually became confounded with the dark ground of the paintings, and the lurid gleams from the chimney only enabled me to see visages staring at me from the gathering darkness. All this was dismal in the extreme, and somewhat appalling ; perhaps it was the state of my conscience that rendered me peculiarly sensitive and prone to fearful imaolnings. "At length the warder brought in my supper. It consisted of a dish of trout and some crawfish taken in the fosse of the castle. He procured also a bottle of wine, which he informed me was wine of Poitou. I requested him to invite the hermit to join me in my repast, but the holy man sent back word that he allowed himself nothing but roots and herbs, cooked with water. I took my meal, therefore, alone, but prolonged it as much as possible, and sought to cheer my droop- ing spirits by the wine of Poitou, which I found very tolerable. " When supper was over I prepared for my THE GRA^D PRIOR OF MTNORCA. 1G3 evening devotions. I have always been very punctual in reciting my breviary ; it is the pre- scribed and bounden duty of all cavaliers of the religious orders ; and I can answer for it, is faith- fully performed by those of Spain, I accordingly drew forth from my pocket a small missal and a rosary, and told the warder he need only desig- nate to me the way to his chamber, where I could come and rejoin him when I had finished my prayers. " He accordingly pointed out a winding stair- case opening from the hall. ' You will descend this staircase,' said he, ' until you come to the fourth landing-place, where you enter a vaulted passage, terminated by an arcade, with a statue of the blessed Jeanne of France ; you cannot help finding my room, the door of which I will leave open ; it is the sixth door from the landing-place. I advise you not to remain in this hall after mid- night. Before that hour you will hear the liermit rins: the bell, in ffoina: the rounds of the corridors. Do not linger here after that signal.' " The warder retired, and I commenced my devotions. I continued at them earnestly, paus- ing from time to time to put wood upon the fire. I did not dare to look much around me, for I felt myself becoming a prey to fearful fancies. The pictures appeared to become animated. If I re- garded one attentively, for any length of time, it seemed to move the eyes and lips. Above all, the portraits of the Grand Seneschal and his lady, which hung on each side of the great chimney, the progenitors of the Foulquerres of Tetefoul- 164 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. qiies, regarded me, I thought, with angry and baleful eyes ; I even fancied they exchanged sig- nificant glances with each other. Just then a terrible blast of wind shook all the casements, and, rushing through the hall, made a fearful rat- tling and clashing among the armor. To my stai'tled fancy, it seemed something supernatural. "At length I heard the bell of the hermit, and hastened to quit the hall. Taking a solitary light, which stood on the supper-table, I descended the winding staircase, but before I had reached the vaulted passage leading to the statue of the blessed Jeanne of France, a blast of wind extinguished my taper. I hastily remounted the stairs, to light it again at the chimney ; but judge of my feel- ings, when, on arriving at the entrance to the armory, I beheld the Seneschal and his lady, who had descended from their frames, and seated them- selves on each side of the fireplace ! " * Madam, my love,' said the Seneschal, with great formality and in antiquated phrase, 'what think you of the presumption of this Castilian, who comes to harbor himself and make wassail in this our castle, after having slain our descendant, the commander, and that without granting him time for confession ? ' " ' Truly, my lord,' answered the female spectre, with no less stateliness of manner, and with great asperity of tone — ' truly, my lord, I opine that this Castilian did a grievous wrong in this en- counter, and he should never be suffered to depart hence, without your throwing him the gauntlet.' T paused to hear no more, but rushed again down THE GRAND PRIOR OF MINORCA. 165 stall's to seek the chamber of the warder. It was impossible to find it in the darkness and in the perturbation of my mind. After an hour and a half of fruitless search, and mortal horror and anxieties, I endeavored to persuade myself that the day was about to break, and listened im- patiently for the crowing of the cock ; for I thought if I could hear his cheerful note, I should be re- assured ; catching, in the disordered state of my nerves, at the popular notion that ghosts never appear after the first crowing of the cock. "At length I rallied myself, and endeavored to shake off the vague terrors which haunted me. 1 tried to persuade myself that the two figures which I had seemed to see and hear, had existed only in my troubled imagination. I still had the end of a candle in my hand, and determined to make another effort to relight it and find my way to bed, for I was ready to sink with fatigue. I accordingly sprang up the staircase, three steps at a time, stopped at the door of the armory, and peeped cautiously in. The two Gothic figures were no longer in the chimney-corners, but I neglected to notice whether they had reascended to their frames. I entered and made desperately for the fireplace, but scarce had I advanced three strides, when Messire Foulques Taillefer stood before me, in the centre of the hall, armed cap-a- pie, and standing in guard, with the point of his sword silently presented to me. I would have retreated to the staircase, but the door of it was occupied by the phantom figure of an esquire, who rudely fiung a gauntlet in my face. Driven 166 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. to fury, I snatched down a sword from the wall : by chance, it was that of the commander which I had placed there. I rushed upon my fantastic adversary, and seemed to pierce him through and through ; but at the same time I felt as if some- thing pierced my heart, burning like a red-hot iron. My blood inundated the hall, and I fell senseless. " When I recovered consciousness, it was broad day, and I found myself in a small chamber, attended by the warder and the hermit. The former told me that on the previous night he had awakened long after the midnight hour, and per- ceiving that I had not come to his chamber, he had furnished himself with a vase of holy water, and set out to seek me. He found me stretched senseless on the pavement of the armory, and bore me to his room. I spoke of my wound, and of the quantity of blood that I had lost. He shook his head, and knew nothing about it ; and to my surprise, on examination, I found myself perfectly sound and unharmed. The wound and blood, therefore, had been all delusion. Neither the warder nor the hermit put any questions to me, but advised me to leave the castle as soon as possible. I lost no time in complying with their counsel, and felt my heart relieved from an op- pressive weight, as I left the gloomy and fate- bound battlements of Tetefoulques behind me. " I arrived at Bayonne, on my way to Spain, on the following Friday. At midnight I was startled from my sleep, as I had formerly been ; THE GRAND PRIOR OF MINORCA. 107 but it was no longer by the vision of the dying commander. It was old Foulqnes Taillefer who Btood before me, armed cap-a-pie, and presenting tlie point of his sword. I made the sign of the cross, and the spectre vanished, but I received the same red-hot thrust in the heart which I had felt in the armory, and I seemed to be bathed in blood. I would have called out, or have risen from my bed and gone in quest of succor, but I could neither speak nor stir. This agony endured until the crowing of the cock, when I fell asleep again ; but the next day I was ill, and in a most pitiable state. I have continued to be harassed by the same vision every Friday night ; no acts of pen- itence and devotion have been able to relieve me from it ; and it is only a lingering hope in divine mercy that sustains me, and enables me to support so lamentable a visitation." The Grand Prior of Minorca wasted gradually away under this constant remorse of conscience and this horrible incubus. He died some time after having revealed the preceding particulars of his case, evidently the victim of a diseased imagination. The above relation has been rendered, in many parts literally, from the French memoir, in which it is given as a true story : if so, it is one of those instances in which truth is more romantic than fiction. « A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY/ N the course of a voyage from England, I once fell in with a convoy of merchant ships, bound for the West Indies. The weather was uncommonly bland ; and the ships vied with each other in spreading sail to catch a light, favoring breeze, until their hulls were al- most hidden beneath a cloud of canvas. The breeze went down with the sun, and his last yel- low rays shone upon a thousand sails, idly flap- ping against the masts. I exulted in the beauty of the scene, and au- gured a prosperous voyage ; but the veteran mas- ter of the ship shook his head, and pronounced this halcyon calm a " weather-breeder." And so it proved. A storm burst forth in the night ; the sea roared and raged ; and when the day broke I beheld the late gallant convoy scattered in every direction ; some dismasted, others scudding under bare poles, and many firing signals of distress. I have since been occasionally reminded of this scene, by those calm, sunny seasons in the com- mercial world, which are known by the name of " times of unexampled prosperity." They are the sure weather-breeders of traffic. Every now 4 TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. 169 and then the world is visited by one of these delusive seasons, when " the credit system," as it is called, expands to full luxuriance ; everybody trusts everybody ; a bad debt is a thing unheard of; the broad way to certain and sudden wealth lies plain and open ; and men are tempted to dash forward boldly, from the facility of borrowing. Promissory notes, interchanged between schem- ing individuals, are liberally discounted at the banks, which become so many mints to coin words into cash ; and as the supply of words is inex- haustible, it may readily be supposed what a vast amount of promissory capital is soon in circula- tion. Every one now talks in thousands ; noth- ing is heard but gigantic operations in trade ; great purchases and sales of real property, and immense sums made at every transfer. All, to be sure, as yet exists in promise ; but the be- liever in promises calculates the aggregate as solid capital, and falls back in amazement at the amount of public wealth, the " unexampled state of public prosperity ! " Now is the time for speculative and dreaming or designing men. They relate their dreams and projects to the ignorant and credulous, dazzle them with golden visions, and set them madden- ing after shadows. The example of one stimu- lates another ; speculation rises on speculation ; bubble rises on bubble ; every one helps with his breath to swell the windy superstructure, and ad- mires and wonders at the magnitude of the infla- tion he has contributed to produce. Speculation is the romance of trade, and casts 170 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. 30iitempt upon all its sober realities. It renders the stock-jobber a magician, and the exchange a resfion of enchantment. It elevates the merchant into a kind of knight-errant, or rather a commer- cial Quixote. The slow but sure gains of snug percentage become despicable in his eyes : no " operation " is thought worthy of attention, that does not double or treble the investment. No business is worth following, that does not promise an immediate fortune. As he sits musing over his ledger, with pen behind his ear, he is like La Mancha's hero in his study, dreaming over his books of chivalry. His dusty counting-house fades before his eyes, or changes into a Spanish mine : he gropes after diamonds, or dives after pearls. The subterranean garden of Aladdin is nothing to the realms of wealth that break upon his imagination. Could this delusion always last, the life of a merchant would indeed be a golden dream ; but it is as short as it is brilliant. Let but a doubt enter, and the " season of unexampled prosper- ity " is at end. The coinage of words is sud- denly curtailed ; the promissory capital begins to vanish into smoke ; a panic succeeds, and the whole superstructure, built upon credit, and reared by speculation, crumbles to the ground, leaving scarce a wreck behind : " It is such stuff as dreams are made of." When a man of business, therefore, hears on every side rumors of fortunes suddenly acquired ; when he finds banks liberal, and brokers busy ; A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. 171 when he sees adventurers flush of paper capital, and full of scheme and enterprise ; when he per- ceives a greater disposition to buy than to sell ; when trade overflows its accustomed channels, and deluges the country ; when he hears of new regions of commercial adventure ; of distant marts and distant mines, swallowing merchandise and disgorging gold ; when he finds joint stock com- panies of all kinds forming ; railroads, canals, and locomotive engines, springing up on every side ; when idlers suddenly become men of business, and dash into the game of commerce as they would into the hazards of the faro-table ; when he be- holds the streets glittering with new equipages, palaces conjured up by the magic of speculation, tradesmen flushed with sudden success, and vying with each other in ostentatious expense ; in a word, when he hears the whole community join- ing in the theme of " unexampled prosperity," let him look upon the whole as a " weather-breeder," and prepare for the impending storm. The foregoing remarks are intended merely as a prelude to a narrative I am about to lay before the public, of one of the most memorable in- stances of the infatuation of gain to be found in the whole history of commerce. I allude to the famous Mississippi bubble. It is a matter that has passed into a proverb, and become a phrase in every one's mouth, yet of which not one mer- chant in ten has probably a distinct idea. I have therefore thought that an authentic account of it would be interesting and salutary, at the present Qioraent, when we are suffering under the effects 172 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. of a severe access of the credit system, and just recoverins: from one of its ruinous delusions. THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. Before entering into the story of this famous chimera, it is proper to give a few particulars concerning the individual who engendered it. John Law was born in Edinburgh, in 1671. His father, William Law, was a rich goldsmith, and left his son an estate of considerable value, called Lauriston, situated about four miles from Edinburgh. Goldsmiths, in those days, acted oc- casionally as bankers, and his father's operations, under this character, may have originally turned the thoughts of the youth to the science of calcu- lation, in which he became an adept ; so that at an early age he excelled in playing at all games of combination. Li 1694, he appeared in London, where a hand- some person and an easy and insinuating address gained him currency in the first circles, and the nickname of " Beau Law." The same personal advantages gave him success in the world of gal- lantry, until he became involved in a quarrel with Beau Wilson, his rival in fashion, whom he killed in a duel, and then fled to France to avoid prose- cution. He returned to Edinburgh in 1700, and re- mained there several years ; during which time he first broached his great credit system, offering THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 173 to supply the deficiency of coin by the establish^ ment of a bank, which, according to his views, might emit a paper cm'rency equivalent to the whole landed estate of the kingdom. His scheme excited great astonishment in Ed- inburgh ; but, though the government was not sufficiently advanced in financial knowledge to detect the fallacies upon which it was founded, Scottish caution and suspicion served in place of wisdom, and the project was rejected. Law met with no better success with the English parlia- ment ; and the fatal affair of the death of Wilson still hano-ino; over him, for which he had never been able to procure a pardon, he again Avent to France. The financial affairs of France were at this time in a deplorable condition. The wars, the pomp, and profusion of Louis XIV., and his relig- ious persecutions of whole classes of the most in- dustrious of his subjects, had exhausted his treas- ury, and overwhelmed the nation with debt. The old monarch clung to his selfish magnificence, and could not be induced to diminish his enormous expenditure ; and his minister of finance was driven to his wits' end to devise all kinds of dis- astrous expedients to keep up the royal state, and to extricate the nation from its embarrassments. In this state of things Law ventured to bring forward his financial project. It was founded on the plan of the Bank of England, which had al- ready been in successful operation several years. He met with immediate patronage and a conge- nial spirit in the Duke of Orleans, who had mar- ried a natural daughter of the king. The duke 174 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY, had been astonished at the facility with which England had supported the burden of a public debt, created by the wars of Anne and William, and which exceeded in amount that under which France was groaning. The whole matter was soon explained by Law to his satisfaction. The latter maintained that England had stopped at the mere threshold of an art capable of creating unlimited sources of national wealth. The duke was dazzled with his splendid views and specious reasonings, and thought he clearly comprehended his system. Demarets, the Comptroller-General of Finance, was not so easily deceived. He pro- nounced the plan of Law more pernicious than any of the disastrous expedients that the govern- ment had yet been driven to. The old king also, Louis XIV., detested all innovations, especially those which came from a rival nation : the project of a bank, therefore, was utterly rejected. Law remained for a while in Paris, leading a gay and affluent existence, owing to his hand- some person, easy manners, flexible temper, and a faro -bank which he had set up. His agreeable career was interrupted by a message from D'Ar- genson. Lieutenant- General of Police, ordering him to quit Paris, alleging that he w^as " rather too skilful at the game which he had introduced / ^' For several succeeding years he shifted his residence from state to state of Italy and Ger- many, offering his scheme of finance to every court that he visited, but without success. The Duke of Savoy, Victor Amadeas, afterward King of Sardinia, was much struck with his project ; THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 175 but after considering it for a time, replied, " / am not sufficiently powerful to ruin myself." The shifting, adventurous life of Law, and the equivocal means by which he apj^eared to live, playing high, and always with great success, threw a cloud of suspicion over him wherever he went, and caused him to be expelled by the mag- istracy from the semi-commercial, semi-aristo- cratical cities of Venice and Genoa. The events of 1715 broug-ht Law back a2:ain to Paris. Louis XIV. was dead. Louis XV. was a mere child, and during his minority the Duke of Orleans held the reins of government as Re- gent. Law had at length found his man. The Duke of Orleans has been differently represented by different contemporaries. He ap- pears to have had excellent natural qualities, perverted by a bad education. He was of the middle size, easy and graceful, with an agreeable countenance, and open, affable demeanor. His mind was quick and sagacious, rather than pro- found ; and his quickness of intellect and ex- cellence of memory supplied the lack of studious application. His wit was prompt and pungent; he expressed himself with vivacity and precision ; his imagination was vivid, his temperament san- guine and joyous, his courage daring. His mother, the Duchess of Orleans, expressed his character in ?ijeu cC esprit. " The fairies," said she, " were invited to be present at his birth, and each one conferring a talent on my son, he possesses them all. Unfortunately, we had forgotten to invite an old fairy, who, arriving after all the others, ex- 176 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. (claimed, " He shall have all the talents, excepting that to make good use of them." ' Under proper tuition, the duke might have risen to real greatness : but in his early years he was put under the tutelage of the Abbe Dubois, one of the subtlest and basest spirits that ever intrigued its way into eminent place and power. The Abbe was of low origin and despicable ex- terior, totally destitute of morals, and perfiduous in the extreme ; but with a supple, insinuating address, and an accommodating spirit, tolerant of all kinds of profligacy in others. Conscious of his own inherent baseness, he sought to secure an influence over his pupil by corrupting his prin- ciples and fostering his vices ; he debased him, to keep himself from being despised. Unfortunately he succeeded. To the early precepts of this in- famous pander have been attributed those excesses that diss^raced the manhood of the Reo-ent, and gave a licentious character to his whole course of government. His love of pleasure, quickened and indulged by those who should have restrained it, led him into all kinds of sensual indulgence. He had been taught to think lightly of the most serious duties and sacred ties, to turn virtue into a jest, and consider religion mere hypocrisy. He was a gay misanthrope, that had a sovereign but sportive contempt for mankind ; believed that his most devoted servant would be his enemy if in- terest prompted, and maintained that an honest man was he who had tlie art to conceal that he was the contrary. He surrounded himself with a set of dissolute THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 177 men like himself, who, let loose from the restraint under which they had been held during the latter hypocritical days of Louis XIV., now gave way to every kind of debauchery. With these men the Regent used to shut himself up, after the hours of business, and excluding all graver per- sons and graver concerns, celebrate the most drunken and disgusting orgies, where obscenity and blasphemy formed the seasoning of conversa- tion. For the profligate companions of these revels he invented the appellation of his roues^ the literal meaning of which is, men broken on the wheel ; intended, no doubt, to express their broken-down characters and dislocated fortunes ; although a contemporary asserts that it designated the punishment that most of them merited. Madame de Labran, who was present at one of the Regent's suppers, was disgusted by the con- duct and conversation of the host and his guests, and observed at table, that God, after he had cre- ated man, took the refuse clay that was left and made of it the souls of lackeys and princes. Such was the man that now ruled the destinies of France. Law found him full of perplexities from the disastrous state of the finances. He had already tampered with the coinage, calling in tlie coin of the nation, restamping it, and issuing it at a nominal increase of one fifth, thus defrauding the nation out of twenty per cent, of its capital. He was not likely, therefore, to be scrupulous about any means likely to relieve him from finan- cial difficulties ; he had even been led to listen to the cruel alternative of a national bankruptcy. 12 178 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. Under these circumstances Law confidently brought forward his scheme of a bank that was to pay off the national debt, increase the revenue, and at the same time diminish the taxes. The following is stated as the theory by which he rec- ommended his system to the Regent. The credit enjoyed by a banker or a merchant, he observed, increases his capital tenfold ; that is to say, he who has a capital of one hundred thousand livres, may, if he possess sufficient credit, extend his operations to a million, and reap profits to that amount. In like manner, a state that can collect into a bank all the current coin of the kingdom, would be as powerful as if its capital were in- creased ten fold. The specie must be drawn into the bank, not by way of loan, or by taxations, but in the way of deposit. This might be effected in different modes, either by inspiring confidence, or by exerting authority. One mode, he observed, had already been in use. Each time that a state makes a recoinage, it becomes momentarily the depository of all the money called in belonging to the subjects of that state. His bank was to effect the same purpose ; that is to say, to receive in de- posit all the coin of the kingdom, but to give in exchange its bills, which, being of an invariable value, bearing an interest, and being payable on demand, would not only supply the place of coin, but prove a better and more profitable carrency. The Regent caught with avidity at the scheme. It suited his bold, reckless spirit and his grasping extravagance. Not that he was altogether the dupe of Law's specious projects ; still he was apt, THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 179 like many other men unskilled in the arcana of finance, to mistake the multiplication of money for the multiplication of wealth, not understanding that it was a mere agent or instrument in the interchange of traffic, to represent the value of the various productions of industry ; and that an increased circulation of coin or bank-bills, in the shape of currency, only adds a proportionably in- creased and fictitious value to such productions. Law enlisted the vanity of the Regent in his cause. He persuaded him that he saw more clearly than others into sublime theories of finance, which were quite above the ordinary apprehension. He used to declare that, excepting the Regent and the Duke of Savoy, no one had thoroughly coni- prehended his system. It is certain that it met with strong opposition from the Regent's ministers, the Duke de Noailles and the Chancellor d'Anguesseau, and it was no less strenuously opposed by the parliament of Paris. Law, however, had a potent though secret coadjutor in the Abbe Dubois, now rising, during the regency, into great political power, and who retained a baneful influence over the mind of the Regent. This wily priest, as avaricious as he was ambitious, drew large sums from Law as subsidies, and aided him greatly in many of his most pernicious operations. He aided him, in the present instance, to fortify the mind of the Regent against all the remonstrances of his ministers and the parliament. Accordingly, on the 2d of May, 1716, letters patent were granted to Law to establish a bank 180 A TIMS OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY, of deposit, discount, and circulation, under the fii-m of " Law and Company," to continue for twenty years. The capital was fixed at six mill- ions of livres, divided into shares of five hundred livres each, which were to be sold for twenty- five per cent, of the Regent's debased coin, and seventy-five per cent, of the public securities, which were then at a great reduction from their nominal value, and which then amounted to nine- teen hundred millions. The ostensible object of the bank, as set forth in the patent, was to encour- age the commerce and manufactures of France. The louis-d'ors and crowns of the bank were always to retain the same standard of value, and its bills to be payable in them on demand. 'At the outset, while the bank was limited in its operations, and while its paper really repre- sented the specie in its vaults, it seemed to realize all that had been promised from it. It rapidly acquired public confidence and an extended circu- lation, and produced an activity in commerce un- known under the baneful government of Louis Xiy. As the bills of the bank bore an interest, and as it was stipulated they would be of invari- able value, and as hints had been artfully circu- lated that the coin would experience successive diminution, everybody hastened to the bank to exchange gold and silver for paper. So great became the throng* of depositors, and so intense their eagerness, that there was quite a press and struggle at the back door, and a ludicrous panic was awakened, as if there was danger of their not being admitted. An anecdote of the THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 181 time relates that one of the clerks, with an ominous smile, called out to the struggling multi- tude, " Have a little patience, my friends ; we mean to take all your money ; " an assertion dis- astrously verified in the sequel. Thus by the simple establishment of a bank, Law and the Regent obtained pledges of con- fidence for the consummation of farther and more complicated schemes, as yet hidden from the pub- lic. In a little while the bank shares rose enor- mously, and the amount of its notes in circulation exceeded one hundred and ten millions of livres. A subtle stroke of policy had rendered it popular with the aristocracy. Louis XIV. had, several years previously, imposed an income tax of a tenth, giving his royal word that it should cease in 1717. This tax had been exceedingly irksome to the privileged orders ; and, in the present dis- astrous times, they had dreaded an augmentation of it. In consequence of the successful operation of Law's scheme, however, the tax was abolished, and now nothing was to be heard among the no- bility and clergy but praises of the Regent and the bank. Hitherto all had gone well, and all might have continued to go well, had not the paper system been farther expanded. But Law had yet the grandest part of his scheme to develop. He had to open his ideal world of speculation, his El Dorado of unbounded wealth. The English had brought the vast imaginary commerce of the South Seas in aid of their banking operations. Law sought to bring, as an immense auxiliary of 182 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. his bank, the whole trade of the Mississippi. Un- der this name was included not merely the river so called, but the vast region known as Louisi- ana, extending from north latitude 29° up to Canada in north latitude 40°. This country had been granted by Louis XIV. to the Sieur Crozat, but he had been induced to resign his patent. In conformity to the plea of Mr. Law, letters patent were granted in August, in 1717, for the creation of a commercial company, which was to have the colonizing of this country, and the monopoly of its trade and resources, and of the beaver or fur trade with Canada. It was called the West- ern, but became better known as the Mississippi Company. The capital was fixed at one hundred millions of livres, divided into shares, bearing an interest of four per cent., which were subscribed for in the public securities. As the bank was to cooperate with the company, the Regent ordered that its bills should be received the same as coin, ill all payments of the public revenue. Law was appointed chief director of this company, which was an exact copy of the Earl of Oxford's South Sea Company, set on foot in 1711, and which distracted all England with the frenzy of specu- lation. In like manner with the delusive pic- turings given in that memorable scheme of the sources of rich trade to be opened in the South Sea countries. Law held forth magnificent pros- pects of the fortunes to be made in colonizing Louisiana, which was represented as a veritable land of promise, capable of yielding every variety of the most precious produce. Reports, too, wei e THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 183 artfully circulated, with great mystery, as if to the " chosen few," of mines of gold and silver recently discovered in Louisiana, and which would insure instant wealth to the early purchasers. These confidential whispers, of course, soon be- came public ; and were confirmed by travellers fresh from the Mississippi, and doubtless bribed, who had seen the mines in question, and declared them superior in richness to those of Mexico and Peru. Nay more, ocular proof was furnished to public credulity, in ingots of gold, conveyed to the mint, as if just brought from the mines of Louisiana. Extraordinary measures were adopted to force a colonization. An edict was issued to collect and transport settlers to the Mississippi. The police lent its aid. The streets and prisons of Paris, and of the provincial cities, were swept of mendicants and vagabonds of all kinds, who were conveyed to Havre de Grace. About six thousand were crowded into ships, where no pre- cautions had been taken for their health or ac- commodation. Instruments of all kinds proper for the working of mines were ostentatiously pa- raded in public, and put on board the vessels ; and the whole set sail for this fabled El Dorado, which was to prove the grave of the greater part of its wretched colonists. D'Anguesseau, the chancellor, a man of probity and integrity, still lifted his voice against the paper system of Law, and his project of coloniza- tion, and was eloquent and prophetic in picturing the evils they were calculated to produce ; the 184 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. private distress and public degradation ; the cor- ruption of morals and manners ; the triumph of knaves and schemers ; the ruin of fortunes, and the downfall of families. He was incited more and more to this opposition by the Duke de Noailles, the Minister of Finance, who was jealous of the growing ascendency of Law over the mind of the Regent, but was less honest than the chancellor in his opposition. The Regent was excessively an- noyed by the difficulties they conjured up in the way of his darling schemes of finance, and the countenance they gave to the opposition of par- liament ; which body, disgusted more and more with the abuses of the regency, and the system of Law, had gone so far as to carry its remon- strances to the very foot of the throne. He determined to relieve himself from these two ministers, who, either through honesty or policy, interfered with all his plans. Accordingly, on the 28th of January, 1718, he dismissed the chancellor from office, and exiled him to his estate in the country ; and shortly afterward removed the Duke de Noailles from the administration of the finance. The opposition of parliament to the Regent and his measures was carried on with increasing violence. That body aspired to an equal author- ity with the Regent in the administration of affairs, and pretended, by its decree, to suspend an edict of the regency ordering a new coinage, and alter- ing the value of the currency. But its chief hostility was levelled against Law, a foreigner and a heretic, and one who was considered by a THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 185 majority of the members in the light of a male- factor. Ill fact, so far was tliis hostility carried, that secret measures were taken to investigate his malversations, and to collect evidence against him ; and it was resolved in parliament that, should the testimony collected justify their sus- picions, they would have him seized and brought before them ; would give liim a brief trial, and, if convicted, would hang him in the court-yard of the palace, and throw open the gates after the execution, that the public might behold his corpse ! Law received intimation of the dang-er hanging: over him, and was in terrible trepidation. He took refuge in the Palais Royal, the residence of the Regent, and implored his protection. The Re- gent himself was embarrassed by the sturdy op- position of parliament, which contemplated nothing less than a decree reversing most of his public measures, especially those of finance. His inde- cision kept Law for a time in an agony of terror and suspense. Finally, by assembling a board of justice, and bringing to his aid the absolute authority of the king, he triumphed over parlia- ment, and relieved Law from his dread of beinof hanged. The system now went on with flowing sail. The Western, or Mississippi Company, being identified with the bank, rapidly increased in power and privileges. One monopoly after an- other was granted to it, — the trade of the Indian Seas, the slave-trade with Senegal and Guinea, the farming of tobacco, the national coinage, etc. Each new privilege was made a pretext for iswsu- 186 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY, ing more bills, and caused an immense advance in the price of stock. At length, on the 4th of December, 1718, the Regent gave the establish- ment the imposing title of the Royal Bank, and proclaimed that he had effected the purchase of all the shares, the proceeds of w^hich he had added to its capital. This measure seemed to shock the public feeling more than any other con- nected with the system, and roused the indigna- tion of parliament. The French nation had been so accustomed to attach an idea of everything ^oble, lofty, and magnificent, to the royal name and person, especially during the stately and Bumptuous reign of Louis XIV., that they could aoi at first tolerate the idea of royalty being in any degree mingled with matters of traffic and finance, and the king being, in a manner, a banker. It was one of the downward steps, however, by which royalty lost its illusive splendor in France and became gradually cheapened in the public mind. Arbitrary measures now began to be taken to force the bills of the bank into artificial currency. On the 27th of December appeared an order in council, forbidding, under severe penalties, the payment of any sum above six hundred livres in gokl or silver. This decree rendered bank-bills necessary in all transactions of purchase and sale, and called for a new emission. The prohibition was occasionally evaded or opposed ; confiscations were the consequence ; informers were rewarded, and spies and traitors began to spring uj> in all the domestic walks of life. THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 187 The worst effect of this ilhisive system was the mania for gain, or rather for gambling in stocks, that now seized upon the whole nation. Under the exciting effects of lying reports, and the forc- ing effects of government decrees, the sliares of the company went on rising in value, until they reached thirteen hundred per cent. Nothing was now spoken of but the price of shares, and the immense fortunes suddenly made by lucky spec- ulators. Those whom Law had deluded used every means to delude others. The most extrav- agant dreams were indulged concerning the wealth to flow in upon the company from its colonies, its trade, and its various monopolies. It is true nothing as yet had been realized, nor could in some time be realized, from these distant sources, even if productive ; but the imaginations of spec- ulators are ever in the advance, and their con-, jectures are immediately converted into facts. Lying reports now flew from mouth to mouth, of sure avenues to fortune suddenly thrown open. The more extravagant the fable, the more i-eadily Avas it believed. To doubt, was to awaken anger or incur ridicule. In a time of public infatuation it requires no small exercise of courage to doubt a popular fallacy. Paris now became the centre of attraction for the adventurous and the avaricious, who flocked to it not merely from the provinces, but from neio-hborins; countries. A stock exchanoce was established in a house in the Rue Quincampoix, and became immediately the gathering-place of stock-jobbers. The exchange opened at seven 1^8 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY, o'clock with the beat of drum and sound of bell, and closed at night with the same signals. Guards were stationed at each end of the street, to main- tain order and exclude carriages and horses. The whole street swarmed throughout the day like a beehive. Bargains of all kinds were seized upon with avidity. Shares of stock passed from hand to hand, mounting in value, one knew not why. Fortunes were made in a moment, as if by magic ; and every lucky bargain prompted those around to a more desperate throw of the dice. The fever went on, increasing in intensity as the day declined ; and when the drum beat and the bell rang at night, to close the exchange, there were exclamations of impatience and despair, as if the wheel of fortune had suddenly been stopped, when about to make its luckiest evolution. To ingulf all classes in this ruinous vortex, Law now split the shares of fifty millions of stock each into one hundred shares ; thus, as in the splitting of lottery tickets, accommodating the ven- ture to the humblest purse. Society was thus stirred up to its very di'egs, and adventurers of the lowest order hurried to the stock market. All honest, industrious pursuits and modest gains were now despised. Wealth was to be obtained instantly, without labor and without stint. The upper classes were as base in their venality as the lower. The highest and most powei"ful nobles, abandoning all generous pursuits and lofty aims, engaged in the vile scuffle for gain. They were even baser than the lower classes ; for some of them, who were members of the council of the THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 189 « regency, abused their station and their influence, and promoted measures by which shares rose while in their hands, and they made immense profits. The Duke de Bourbon, the Prince of Conti, the Dukes de la Force and D'Antin, were among the foremost of these illustrious stock-jobbers. They were nicknamed the Mississippi Lords, and they smiled at the sneering title. In fact, the usual distinctions of society had lost their conse- quence, under the reign of this new passion. Rank, talent, military fame, no longer inspired deference. All respect for others, all self-respect, were forgotten in the mercenary struggle of the stock-market. Even prelates and ecclesiastical corporations, forgetting their true objects of de- votion, mingled among the votaries of Mammon. They were not behind those who wielded the civil power in fabricating ordinances suited to their avaricious purposes. Theological decisions forth- with appeared, in which the anathema launched by the Church against usury was conveniently construed as not extending to the traffic in bank shares ! The Abbe Dubois entered into the mysteries of stock-jobbing with all the zeal of an apostle, and enriched himself by the spoils of the credu- lous ; and he continually drew large sums from Law, as considerations for his political influence. Faithless to his country, in the course of his gambling speculations he transferred to England a great amount of specie, which had been paid into the royal treasury ; thus contributing to the subsequent dearth of the precious metals. 190 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. The female sex participated in this sordid frenzy. Princesses of the blood, and ladies of the highest nobility, were among the most rapa- cious of stock-jobbers. The Regent seemed to have the riches of Croesus at his command, and lavished money by hundreds of thousands upon his female relatives and favorites, as well as upon his roues, the dissolute companions of his de- bauches. " My son," writes the Regent's mother, in her correspondence, " gave me shares to the amount of two millions, which I distributed among my household. The king also took several mill- ions for his own household. All the royal fam- ily have had them ; all the children and grand- children of France, and the princes of the blood." Luxury and extravagance kept pace with this sudden inflation of fancied wealth. The heredi- tary palaces of nobles were pulled down, and re- built on a scale of augmented splendor. Enter- tainments were given, of incredible cost and mag- nificence. Never before had been such display in houses, furniture, equipages, and amusements. This was particularly the case among persons of the lower ranks, who had suddenly become pos- sessed of millions. Ludicrous anecdotes are re- lated of some of these upstarts. One, who had just launched a splendid carriage, when about to use it for tlie first time, instead of getting in at the door, mounted, through habitude, to his accus- tomed place behind. Some ladies of quality, see- ing a well-dressed woman covered with diamonds, but whom nobody knew, alight from a very hand- some carriage, inquired who she was, of the foot- THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 191 man. He replied, with a sneer, " It is a lady who has recently tumbled fi'om a garret into this carriage." Mr. Law's domestics were said to be- come in like manner suddenly enriched by the crumbs that fell from his table. His coachman, having made a fortune, retired from his service. Mr. Law requested him to procure a coachman in his place. He appeared the next day with two, whom he pronounced equally good, and told Mr. Law, " Take which of them you choose, and I will take the other ! " Nor were these novi homini treated with the distance and disdain they would formerly have experienced from the haughty aristocracy of France. The pride of the old noblesse had been stifled by the stronger instinct of avarice. They rather sought the intimacy and confidence of these lucky upstarts ; and it has been observed that a nobleman would gladly take his seat at the table of the fortunate lackey of yesterday, in hopes of learning from him the secret of growing rich ! Law now went about with a countenance ra- diant with success, and apparently dispensing wealth on every side. " He is admirably skilled in all that relates to finance," writes the Duchess of Orleans, the Regent's mother, " and has put the affairs of the state in such good order, that all the king's debts have been paid. He is so much run after, that he has no repose night or day. A duchess even kissed his hand publicly. If a duchess can do this, what will other ladies do ! " Wherever he went his path, we are told, was 192 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. beset by a sordid throng, who waited to see him pass, and sought to obtain the favor of a word, a nod, or smile, as if a mere glance from him would bestow fortune. Wlien at home his house was absolutely besieged by furious candidates for for- tune. " They forced the doors," says the Duke de St. Simon : " they scaled his windows from the garden ; they made their way into his cabinet down the chimney ! " The same venal court was paid by all classes to his ftimily. The highest ladies of the court vied with each other in meannesses, to purchase the lucrative friendship of Mrs. Law and her daughter. They waited upon them with as much assiduity and adulation as if they had been prin- cesses of the blood. The Regent one day ex- pressed a desire that some duchess should accom- pany his daughter to Genoa. " My Lord," said some one present, " if you would have a choice from among the duchesses, you need but send to Mrs. Law's ; you will tind them all assembled there." The wealth of Law rapidly increased with the expansion of the bubble. In the course of a few months he purchased fourteen titled estates, pay- ing for them in paper ; and the public hailed these sudden and vast acquisitions of landed prop- erty, as so many proofs of the soundness of his system. In one mstance he met with a shrewd bargainer, who had not the sreneral faith in his paper money. The President de Novion insisted on being paid for an estate in hard coin. Law accordingly brought the amount, four hundred THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 193 thousand livres, in specie, saying, with a sarcastic smile, that he preferred paying in money, as its weight rendered it a mere incumbrance. As it happened, the President could give no clear title to the land, and the money had to be refunded. He paid it back in paper, which Law dared not refuse, lest he should depreciate it in the market ! The course of illusory credit went on triumph- antly for eighteen months. Law had nearly ful- filled one of his promises, for the greater part of the public debt had been paid off ; but how paid ? In bank shares, which had been trumped up sev- eral hundred per cent, above their value, and which were to vanish like smoke in the hands of the holders. One of the most striking attributes of Law, was the imperturbable assurance and self-posses- sion with which he replied to every objection and found a solution for every problem. He had the dexterity of a juggler in evading difficulties ; and what was peculiar, made figures themselves, which are the very elements of exact demonstration, the means to dazzle and bewilder. Toward the latter end of 1719 the Mississippi scheme had reached its highest point of glory. Half a million of strangers had crowded into Paris, in quest of fortune. The hotels and lodg- ing-houses were overflowing ; lodgings were pro- cured with excessive difficulty ; granaries were turned into bedrooms ; provisions had risen enoi - mously in price ; splendid houses were multiply- ing on every side ; the streets were cro^Yd^d \y.Uh 33 194 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. carriages ; above a thousand new equipages had been launched. On the eleventh of December Law obtained another prohibitory decree, for the purpose of sweeping all the remaining specie in circulation into the bank. By this it was forbidden to make any payments in silver above ten livres, or in gold above three hundred. The repeated decrees of this nature, the object of which was to depreciate the value of gold and increase the illusive credit of paper, began to awaken doubts of a system which required such bolstering. Capitalists gradually awoke from their bemlderment. Sound and able financiers con- sulted together, and agreed to make common cause against this continual expansion of a paper system. The shares of the bank and of the com- pany began to decline in value. Wary men took the alarm, and began to realize, a word now first brought into use, to express the conversion of ideal property into something real. The Prince of Conti, one of the most promi- nent and grasping of the Mississippi lords, was the first to give a blow to the credit of the bank. There was a mixture of ingratitude in his con- duct that characterized the venal baseness of the times. He had received, from time to time, enor- mous sums from Law, as the price of his influence and patronage. His avarice had increased with every acquisition, until Law was compelled to re- fuse one of his exactions. In revenge, the prince immediately sent such an amount of paper to the bank to be cashed, that it required four wagons THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 195 to biing cawiiy the silver, and he had the mean- ness to loll out of the window of his hotel, and jest and exult, a^ it was trundled into his port cochere. This was the signal for other drains of like na- ture. The English and Dutch merchants, who had purchased a great amount of bank paper at low prices, cashed them at the bank, and carried the money out of the country. Other strangers did the like, thus draining the kingdom of its spe- cie, and leaving paper in its place. The Regent, perceiving these symptoms of de- cay in the system, sought to restore it to public confidence by conferring marks of confidence upon its author. He accordingly resolved to make Law Comptroller- General of the Finances of France. There was a material obstacle in the way. Law was a Protestant, and the Regent, unscrupulous iis he was himself, did not dare publicly to out- rage the severe edicts which Louis XIV., in his bigot days, had fulminated against all heretics. Law soon let him know that there would be no difficulty on that head. He was ready at any moment to abjure his religion in the way of busi- ness. For decency's sake, however, it was judged proper he should previously be convinced and con- verted. A ghostly instructor was soon found ready to accomplish his conversion in the shortest possi- ble time. This was the Abbe Tencin, a profli- gate creature of the profligate Dubois, and like him working his way to ecclesiastical promotion and temporal wealth by the basest means. Under the instructions of the Abbe Tencin, 196 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. Law soon mastered the mysteries and dogmas of the Catholic doctrine ; and, after a brief course of ghostly training, declared himself thoroughly convinced and converted. To avoid the sneers and jests of the Parisian public, the ceremony of abjuration took place at Melun. Law made a pious present of one hundred thousand livres to the Church of St. Roque, and the Abbe Tencin was rewarded for his edifying labors by sundry shares and bank-bills, which he shrewdly took care to convert into cash, having as little faith in the system as in the piety of his new convert. A more grave and moral community might have been outraged by this scandalous farce ; but the Parisians laughed at it with their usual levity, and contented themselves with making it the sub- ject of a number of songs and epigrams. Law being now orthodox in his faith, took out letters of naturalization, and having thus sur- mounted the intervening obstacles, was elevated by the Regent to the post of Comptroller-Gen- eral. So accustomed had the community become to all juggles and transmutations in this hero of finance, that no one seemed shocked or astonished at his sudden elevation. On the contrary, being now considered perfectly established in place and power, he became more than ever the object of venal adoration. Men of rank and dignity thronged his antechamber, waiting patiently their turn for an audience ; and titled dames demeaned themselves to take the front seats of the carriages of his wife and daughter, as if they had been riding with princesses of the blood royal. Law's THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 197 head grew giddy with his elevation, and he began to aspire after aristocratical distinction. There was to be a court ball, at which several of the young noblemen were to dance in a ballet with the youthful king. Law requested that his son might be admitted into the ballet, and the Regent consented. The young scions of nobility, how- ever, were indignant, and scouted the " intruding upstart." Their more worldly parents, fearful of displeasing the modern Midas, reprimanded them in vain. The striplings had not yet imbibed the passion for gain, and still held to their high blood. The son of the banker received slights and an- noyances on all sides, and the public applauded them for their spirit. A fit of illness came op- portunely to relieve the youth from an honor which would have cost him a world of vexations and affronts. In February, 1720, shortly after Law's in- stalment in office, a decree came out uniting the bank to the India Company, by which last name the whole establishment was now known. The decree stated, that, as the bank was royal, the king was bound to make good the value of its bills ; that he committed to the company the govern- ment of the bank for fifty years, and sold to it fifty millions of stock belonging to him, for nine hundred millions, a simple advance of eighteen hundred per cent. The decree farther declared, in the king's name, that he would never draw on the bank until the value of his drafts had first been lodged in it by his receivers-general. The bank, it was said, had by this time issued 198 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. notes to the amount of one thousand millions, being more paper than all the banks of Europe were able to circulate. To aid its credit, the receivers of the revenue were directed to take bank-notes of the sub-receivers. All payments, also, of one hundred livres and upward, were ordered to be made in bank-notes. These com- pulsory measures for a short time gave a false credit to the bank, which proceeded to discount merchants' notes, to lend money on jewels, plate, and other valuables, as well as on mortgages. Still farther to force on the system, an edict next appeared, forbidding any individual, or any corporate body, civil or religious, to hold in pos- session more than five hundred livres in current coin ; that is to say, about seven louis-d'ors ; the value of the louis-d'or in paper being, at the time, seventy-two livres. All the gold and silver they might have, above this pittance, was to be brought to the royal bank, and exchanged either for shares or bills. As confiscation was the penalty of disobedience to this decree, and informers were assured a share of the forfeitures, a bounty was in a manner held out to domestic spies and traitors, and the most odious scrutiny was awakened into the pecuniary affairs of families and individuals. The very con- fidence between friends and relatives was impaired, and all the domestic ties and virtues of society were threatened, until a general sentiment of in- dignation broke forth, that compelled the Regent to rescind the odious decree. Lord Stairs, the British ambassador, speaking of the system of THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 199 espionage encouraged by this edict, observed that it was impossible to doubt that Law was a thorough Catholic, since he had thus established the inqui- sition, after having already proved transuhstanti- ation by changing specie into paper. Equal abuses had taken place under the col- onizing project. In his thousand expedients to amass capital, Law had sold parcels of land in Mississippi, at the rate of three thousand livres for a league square. Many capitalists had purchased estates large enough to constitute almost a princi- pality ; the only evil was, Law had sold a property which he could not deliver. The agents of police, who aided in recruiting the ranks of the colonists, had been guilty of scandalous impositions. Under pretence of taking up mendicants and vagabonds, they had scoured the streets at night, seizing upon honest mechanics or their sons, and hurry- ing them to their crimping-houses for the sole purpose of extorting money from them as a ran- som. The populace was roused to indignation by these abuses. The officers of police were mobbed in the exercise of their odious functions, and sev- eral of them were killed, which put an end to this flagrant abuse of power. In Marcli, a most extraordinary decree of the council fixed the price of shares of the India Company at nine thousand livres each. All ec- clesiastical communities and hospitals were now prohibited from investing money at interest in any- thing but India stock. With all these props and stays, the system continued to totter. How could it be otherwise, under a despotic government 200 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. that could alter the value of property at every moment ? The very compulsory measures that were adopted to establish the credit of the bank hastened its fall, plainly showing there was a want of solid security. Law caused pamphlets to be published, setting forth, in eloquent language, the vast profits that must accrue to holders of the stock, and the impossibility of the king's ever doing it any harm. On the very back of these assertions came forth an edict of the king, dated the 2 2d of May, wherein, under pretence of having reduced the value of his coin, it was declared necessary to reduce the value of his bank-notes one half, and of the India shares from nine thousand to five thousand livres ! This decree came like a clap of thunder upon share-holders. They found one half of the pre- tended value of the paper in their hands an- nihilated in an instant ; and what certainty liad they with respect to the other half? The rich considered themselves ruined ; those in humbler circumstances looked forward to abject beggary. The parliament seized the occasion to stand forth as the protector of the public, and refused to register the decree. It gained the credit of compelling the Regent to retrace his step, though it is more probable he yielded to the universal burst of public astonishment and reprobation. On the 27th of May the edict was revoked, and bank-bills were restored to their previous value. But the fatal blow had been struck ; the delusion was at an end. Government itself had lost all public confidence equally with the bank it had THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 20 \ engendered, and which its own arbitrary acts had brought into discredit. "All Paris," says the Reijent's mother, in her letters, " has been mourn- ing at the cursed decree which Law has persuaded my son to make. I have received anonymous let- ters stating that I have nothing to fear on my own account, but that my son shall be pursued with fire and sword." The Regent now endeavored to avert the odium of his ruinous schemes from himself. He affected to have suddenly lost confidence in Law, and on the 29th of May discharged him from his employ as Comptroller-General, and stationed a Swiss guard of sixteen men in his house. He even refused to see him, when, on the following day, he applied at the portal of the Palais Royal for admission ; but having played off this farce before the public, he admitted him secretly the same night, by a private door, and continued as before to cooperate with him in his financial schemes. On the first of June, the Regent issued a de- cree permitting persons to have as much money as they pleased in their possession. Few, how- ever, were in a state to benefit by this permis- sion. There was a run upon the bank, but a royal ordinance immediately suspended payment until farther orders. To relieve the public mind, a city stock was created of twenty-five millions, bearing an interest of two and a half per cent., for which bank-notes were taken in exchange. The bank-notes thus withdrawn from circulation were publicly burnt before the Hotel de VOle. The public, however, had lost confidence in every- 202 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY thing and everybody, and suspected fraud and collusion in those who pretended to burn the bills. A general confusion now took place in the financial Avorld. Families who had lived in opu- lence found themselves suddenly reduced to in- digence. Schemers who had been revelling in the delusion of princely fortunes found their estates vanishing into thin air. Those who had any property remaining sought to secure it against reverses. Cautious persons found there was no safety for property in a country where the coin was continually shifting in value, and where a despotism was exercised over public securities, and even over the private purses of individuals. They began to send their effects into other countries ; when lo ! on the 20th of June, a royal edict commanded them to bring back their effects, under penalty of forfeiting twice their value, and forbade them, under like penalty, from investing their money in foreign stocks. This was soon followed by another decree, forbidding any one to retain precious stones in his possession, or to sell them to foreigners ; all must be deposited in the bank in exchange for depreciating paper ! Execrations were now poured out, on all sides, against Law, and menaces of vengeance. What a contrast, in a short time, to the venal incense once offered up to him ! " This person," writes the Regent's mother, " who was formerly wor- shipped as a god, is now not sure of his life. It is astonishing how greatly terrified he is. He is as a dead man ; he is pale as a sheet, and it is THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 203 said he can never get over it. My son is not dismayed, tliough he is threatened on all sides, and is very much amused with Law's terrors." About the middle of July, the last grand at- tempt was made by Law and the Regent to keep up the system and provide for the immense emis- sion of paper. A decree was flibricated, giving the Lidia Company the entire monopoly of com- merce, on condition that it would, in the course of a year, reimburse six hundred millions of livres of its bills, at the rate of fifty millions per month. On the 17th this decree was sent to parliament to be registered. It at once raised a storm of opposition in that assembly, and a vehement discussion took place. While that was going on, a disastrous scene was passing out of doors. The calamitous effects of the system had reached the humblest concerns of human life. Provisions had risen to an enormous price ; paper money was refused at all the shops ; the people had not wherewithal to buy bread. It had been found absolutely indispensable to relax a little from the suspension of specie payments, and to allow small sums to be scantily exchanged for paper. The doors of the bank and the neighbor- ing street were immediately thronged with a fam- ishing multitude seeking cash for bank-notes of ten livres. So great was the press and struggle, that several persons were stifled and crushed to death. The mob carried three of the bodies to the court-yard of the Palais Royal. Some cried for the Regent to come forth, and behold the '204: A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPEEITT. effect of his system ; others demanded the death of Law, the impostor, who had brought this misery and ruin upon the nation. The moment was critical : the popular fury was rising to a tempest, when Le Blanc, the Secretary of State, stepped forth. He had pre- viously sent for the military, and now only sought to gain time. Singling out six or seven stout fellows, who seemed to be the ringleaders of the mob, " My good fellows," said he, calmly, " carry away these bodies, and place them in some church, and then come back quickly to me for your pay." They immediately obeyed ; a kind of funeral pro- cession was formed ; the arrival of troops dis- persed tliose who lingered behind ; and Paris was probably saved from an insurrection. About ten o'clock in the morning, all being quiet. Law ventured to go in his carriage to the Palais Royal. He was saluted with cries and curses as he passed along the streets ; and he reached the Palais Royal in a terrible fright. The Regent amused himself with his fears, but retained him with him, and sent off his carriage, which was assailed by the mob, pelted with stones, and the glasses shivered. The news of this out- rage was communicated to parliament in the midst of a furious discussion of the decree for the commercial monopoly. The first president, who had been absent for a short time, reentered, and communicated the tidings in a whimsical couplet ; " Messieurs, Messieurs ! bonne nouvelle ! Le carrosse de Law est r^duit en carrelle ! " THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 205 " Gentlemen, Gentlemen ! good news ! The carriage of Law is shivered to atoms ! " The members sprang up with joy. " And Law ! " exclaimed they, " has he been torn to pieces?" The president was ignorant of the result of the tumult ; whereupon the debate was cut short, the decree rejected, and the house adjourned, the members hurrying to learn the particulars. Such was the levity with which public affairs were treated at that dissolute and disastrous period. On the following day there was an ordinance from the king, prohibiting all popular assem- blages ; and troops were stationed at various points, and in all public places. The regiment of guards was ordered to hold itself in readiness, and the musketeers to be at their hotels, with their horses ready saddled. A number of small offices were opened, where people might cash small notes, though with great delay and diffi- culty. An edict was also issued, declaring that whoever should refuse to take bank-notes in the course of trade, should forfeit double the amount ! The continued and vehement opposition of parliament to the whole delusive system of finance had been a constant source of annoyance to the Regent ; but this obstinate rejection of his last grand expedient of a commercial monopoly was not to be tolerated. He determined to punish that intractable body. The Abbe Dubois and Law suggested a simple mode ; it was to sup- press the parliament altogether, being, as they ob- Berved, so far from useful, that it was a constant 206 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. impediment to the march of public affairs. The Regent was half inclined to listen to their advice ; but upon calmer consideration, and the advice of friends, he adopted a more moderate course. On the 20th of July, early in the morning, all the doors of the parliament-house were taken posses- sion of by the troops. Others were sent to sur- round the house of the first president, and others to the houses of the various members ; who were all at first in great alarm, until an order from the king was put into their hands, to render them- selves at Pontoise, in the course of two days, to which place the parliament was thus suddenly and arbitrarily transferred. This despotic act, says Voltaire, would at any other time have caused an insurrection ; but one half of the Parisians were occupied by their ruin, and the other half by their fancied riches, which wei'e soon to vanish. The president and members of parliament acquiesced in the mandate without a murmur ; they even went as if on a party of pleasure, and made every preparation to lead a joyous life in their exile. The musketeers, who held possession of the vacated parliament-house, a gay corps of fashionable young fellows, amused themselves with making songs and pasquinades, at the expense of the exiled legislators ; and at length, to pass away time, formed themselves into a mock parliament ; elected their presidents, kings, ministers, and advocates ; took their seats in due form ; arraigned a cat at their bar, in place of the Sieur Law, and, after giving it a " fair trial," con- demned it to be hanged. In this manner, public THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 207 affairs and public institutions were liglitly turned to jest. As to the exiled parliament, it lived gayly and luxuriously at Pontoise, at the public expense ; for the Regent had furnished funds, as usual, with a lavish hand. The first president had the man- sion of the Duke de Bouillon put at his disposal, all ready furnished, with a vast and delightful gar- den on the borders of a river. There he kept open house to all the members of parliament. Several tables were spread every day, all furnished luxuriously and splendidly ; the most exquisite Avines and liquors, the choicest fruits and refresh- ments of all kinds, abounded. A number of small chariots for one and two horses were always at hand, for such ladies and old gentlemen as wished to take an airing after dinner, and card and bill- iard tables for such as chose to amuse themselves in that way until supper. The sister and the daughter of the first president did the honors of his house, and he himself presided there with an tiir of great ease, hospitality, and magnificence. It became a party of pleasure to drive from Paris to Pontoise, which was six leagues distant, and partake of the amiisements and festivities of the place. Business was openly slighted ; nothing was thought of but amusement. The Regent and his government were laughed at, and made the subjects of continual pleasantries ; while the enormous expenses incurred by this idle and lav- ish course of life more than doubled the liberal sums provided. This was the way in which the parliament resented their exile. 208 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY, During all this time the system was getting more and more involved. The stock exchange had some time previously been removed to the Place Vendome ; but the tumult and noise be- coming intolerable to the residents of that polite quarter, and especially to the chancellor, whose hotel was there, the Prince and Princess Carig- nan, both deep gamblers in Mississippi stock, of- fered the extensive garden of their Hotel de Sois- sons as a rallying-place for the worshippers of Mammon. The offer was accepted. A number of barracks were immediately erected in the gar- den, as offices for the stock-brokers, and an order was obtained from the Regent, under pretext of police regulations, that no bargain should be valid, unless concluded in these barracks. The rent of them immediately mounted to a hundred livres a month for each, and the whole yielded these no- ble proprietors an ignoble revenue of half a mill- ion of livres. The mania for gain, however, was now at an end. A universal panic succeeded. " Sa.uve qui peutr' was the watchword. Every one was anxious to exchange falling paper for something of intrinsic and permanent value. Since money was not to be had, jewels, precious stones, plate, porcelain, trinkets of gold and silver, all com- manded any price, in paper. Land was bought at fifty years' purchase, and he esteemed himself happy who could get it even at this price. Mo- nopolies now became the rage among the noble holders of paper. The Duke de la Force bought up nearly all the tallow, grease, and soap ; others. THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 209 the coffee and spices ; others, hay and oats. For- eign exchanges were almost impracticable. The debts of Dutch and English merchants were paid in this fictitious money, all the coin of the realm having disappeared. All the relations of debtor and creditor were confounded. With one thou- sand crowns one might pay a debt of eighteen thousand livres. The Regent's mother, who once exulted in the affluence of bank paper, now wrote in a very dif- ferent tone. " I have often wished," said she, in her letters, " that these bank-notes were in the depths of the infernal regions. They have given my son more trouble than relief. Nobody in France has a penny My son was once popular ; but since the arrival of this cursed Law he is hated more and more. Not a week passes without my receiving letters filled with frightful threats, and speaking of him as a tyrant. I have just received one, threatening him with poison. When I showed it to him, he did nothing but laugh." In the mean time, Law was dismayed by the increasing troubles, and terrified at the tempest he had raised. He was not a man of real cour- age ; and, fearing for his personal safety, from popular tumult, or the despair of ruined individ- uals, he again took refuge in the palace of the Kegent. The latter, as usual, amused himself with his terrors, and turned every new disaster into a jest ; but he, too, began to think of his own security. In pursuing the schemes of Law, he had. no 14 210 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. doubt, calculated to carry through his. term of government with ease and splendor, and to en- rich himself, his connections, and his favorites ; and had hoped that the catastrophe of the system would not take place until after the expiration of the regency. He now saw his mistake, — that it v/as impos- sible much longer to prevent an explosion ; and he determined at once to get Law out of the way, and then to charge him with the whole tissue of delusions of this paper alchemy. He accordingly took occasion of the recall of parliament in De- cember, 1720, to suggest to Law the policy of his avoiding an encounter with that hostile and exasperated body. Law needed no urging to the measure. His only desire was to escape from Paris and its tempestuous populace. Two days before the return of parliament, he took his sud- den and secret departure. He travelled in a chaise bearino^ the arms of the Reo;ent, and was escorted by a kind of safeguard of servants, in the duke's livery. His first place of refuge was an estate of the Regent's, about six leagues from Paris, from whence he pushed forward to Bruxelles. As soon as Law was fairly out of the way, the Duke of Orleans summoned a council of the re- gency, and informed them that they were assem- bled to deliberate on the state of the finances and the affairs of the India Company. Accordingly La Houssaye, Comptroller- General, rendered a perfectly clear statement, by which it appeared that there were bank-bills in circulation to the THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 211 amount of two milliards seven hundred millions of livres, without any evidence that this enor- mous sum had been emitted in virtue of any or- dinance from the general assembly of the India Company, which alone had the right to authorize such emissions. The council was astonished at this disclosure, and looked to the Regent for explanation. Pushed to the extreme, the Regent avowed that Law had emitted bills to the amount of twelve hundred millions beyond what had been fixed by ordi- nances, and in contradiction to express prohibi- tions ; that, the thing being done, he, the Regent, had legalized or rather covered the transaction, by decrees ordering such emissions, which decrees he had antedated. A stormy scene ensued between the Regent and the Duke de Bourbon, little to the credit of either, both having been deeply implicated in the cabalistic operations of the system. In fact, the several members of the council had been among the most venal " beneficiaries " of the scheme, and had interests at stake which they were anxious to se- cure. From all the circumstances of the case, I am inclined to think that others were more to blame than Law for the disastrous effects of his finan- cial projects. His bank, had it been confined to its original limits, and left to the control of its own internal regulations, might have gone on prosperously, and been of great benefit to the nation. It was an institution fitted for a free country ; but, unfortunately, it was subject to the control of a despotic government, that could, at 212 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. its pleasure, alter the value of the specie within its vaults, and compel the most extravagant ex- pansions of its paper circulation. The vital prin- ciple of a bank is security in the regularity of its operations, and the immediate convertibility of its paper into coin ; and what confidence could be reposed in an institution, or its paper promises, when the sovereign could at at any moment cen- tuple those promises in the market, and seize upon all the money in the bank ? The compul- sory measures used, likewise, to force bank-notes into currency, against the judgment of the public, was fatal to the system ; for credit must be free and uncontrolled as the common air. The Re- gent was the evil spirit of the system, that forced Law on to an expansion of his paper currency far beyond what he had ever dreamed of. He it was that in a manner compelled the unlucky pro- jector to devise all kinds of collateral companies and monopolies, by which to raise funds to meet the constantly and enormously increasing emis- sions of shares and notes. Law was but like a poor conjurer in the hands of a potent spirit that he has evoked, and that obliges him to go on, desperately and ruinously, with his conjurations. He only thought at the outset to raise the wind, but the Regent compelled him to raise the whirl- wind. The investigation of the affairs of the company by the council resulted in nothing beneficial to the public. The princes and nobles who had enriched themselves by all kinds of juggles and extortions escaped unpunished, and retained tho THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 213 greater part of their spoils. Many of the " sud- denly rich," who had risen from obscurity to a giddy height of imaginary prosperity, and had indulged in all kinds of vulgar and ridiculous excesses, awoke as out of a dream, in their Driginal poverty, now made more galling and hu- aailiating by their transient elevation. The weight of the evil, however, fell on more valuable classes of society, — honest tradesmen and artisans, who had been seduced away from the slow accumulations of industry, to the specious chances of speculation. Thousands of meritorious families, also, once opulent, had been reduced to indigence by a too great confidence in govern- ment. There was a general derangement in the finances, that long exerted a baneful influence over the national prosperity ; but the most disas- trous effects of the system were upon the morals and manners of the nation. The faith of enfjage- ments, the sanctity of promises in affairs of busi- ness, were at an end. Every expedient to grasp present profit, or to evade present difficulty, was tolerated. While such deplorable laxity of prin- ciple was generated in the busy classes, the chivalry of France had soiled their pennons ; and honor and glory, so long the idols of the Gallic nobility, had been tumbled to the earth, and trampled in the dirt of the stock-market. As to Law, the originator of the system, he appears eventually to have profited but little by his schemes. " He was a quack," says Voltaire, ' to whom the state was given to be cured, but who poisoned it with his drugs, and who poisoned 214 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. himself." The effects which he left beliind in France were sold at a low price, and the proceeds dissipated. His landed estates were confiscated. He carried away with him barely enough to main- tain himself, his wife, and daughter, with decency. The chief relic of his immense fortune was a great diamond, which he was often obliged to jpawn. He was in England in 1721, and was presented to George the First. He returned, shortly afterward, to the Continent, shifting about from place to place, and died in Venice, in 1729. His wife and daughter, accustomed to live with the prodigality of princesses, could not conform to their altered fortunes, but dissipated the scanty means left to them, and sank into abject poverty. " I saw his wife," says Voltaire, " at Bruxelles, as much humiliated as she had been haughty and triumphant at Paris." An elder brother of Law remained in France, and was protected by the Duchess of Bourbon. His descendants acquitted themselves honorably, in various public employ- ments ; and one of them was the Marquis Lau- riston, sometime Lieutenant - General and Peer of France. SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 1825 FROM THE TRAVELLING NOTE-BOOK OF GEOFFREY CRAYON, GENT. THE PARISIAN HOTEL. ^ GREAT hotel in Paris is a street set on end : the grand staircase is the high- way, and every floor or apartment a separate habitation. Tlie one in which I am lodged may serve as a specimen. It is a large quadrangular pile, built round a spacious paved court. The ground-floor is occupied by shops, magazines, and domestic ofiices. Then comes the entresol, with low ceilings, short windows, and dwarf chambers ; then succeed a succession of floors, or stories, rising one above the other, to the number of Alahomet's heavens. Each floor is a mansion, complete within itself, with ante- chamber, saloons, dining and sleeping rooms, kitchen, and other conveniences. Some floors are divided into two or more suites of apartments. Each apartment has its main door of entrance, opening upon the staircase, or landing-places, and locked like a street-door. Thus several families and numerous single persons live under the same roof, totally independent of each other, and may live so for years, without holding more inter- 216 SKETCHES IN PARIS. course than is kept up in other cities by residents in the same street. Like the great world, this little microcosm has its gradations of rank and style and importance. The premier, or first floor, with its grand saloons, lofty ceilings, and splendid furniture, is decidedly the aristocratical part of the establishment. The second floor is scarcely less aristocratical and mag- nificent ; the other floors go on lessening in splen- dor as they gain in altitude, and end with the attics, the region of petty tailors, clerks, and sewing - girls. To make the filling up of the mansion complete, every odd nook and corner is fitted up as a joli petit appartement a garg.on, (a pretty little bachelor's apartment,) that is to say, some little dark inconvenient nestling-place for a poor devil of a bachelor. The whole domain is shut up from the street by a great porte-cochere, or portal, calculated for the admission of carriages. This consists of two massy folding doors, that swing heavily open upon a spacious entrance, passing under the front of the edifice into the court-yard. On one side is a grand staircase leading to the upper apartments. Im- mediately without the portal is the porter's lodge, a small room with one or two bedrooms adjacent, for the accommodation of the concierge, or porter, and his family. This is one of the most important functionaries of the hotel. He is, in fact, the Cerberus of the establishment, and no one can pass in or out without his knowledge and consent. The porte-cochere in general is fastened by a slid- ing bolt, from which a cord or wire passes into THE PARTS TAN HOTEL. '2\^ the porter's lodge. Whoever wishes to go out must speak to the porter, who draws the bolt. A visitor from without gives a single rap with the massive knocker ; the bolt is immediately drawn, as if by an invisible hand ; the door stands ajar, the visitor pushes it open, and enters. A face presents itself at the glass door of the porter's little chamber ; the stranger pronounces the name of the person he comes to seek. If the person or family is of importance, occupying the first or second floor, the porter sounds a bell once or twice, to give notice that a visitor is at hand. The stranger in the mean time ascends the great staircase, the highway common to all, and arrives at the outer door, equivalent to a street-door, of the suite of rooms inhabited by his friends. Be- side this hangs a bell - cord, with which he rings for admittance. When the family or person inquired for is of less importance, or lives in some remote part of the mansion less easy to be apprised, no signal is given. The applicant pronounces the name at the porter's door, and is told, ^''Alontez au troisieme, au quatrieme ; sonnez a la porte a drotie, ou a gauche" ('-Ascend to the third or fourth story ; ring the bell on the right or left hand door,") as the case may be. The porter and his wife act as domestics to such of the inmates of the mansion as do not keep servants ; making their beds, arranging their rooms, lighting their fires, and doing other menial offices, for which they receive a monthly stipend. They are also in confidential intercourse with the 218 SKETCHES IN PARIS. servants of the other inmates, and, having an eye on ail the incomers and outgoers, are thus enabled, by hook and by croolv, to learn the secrets and the domestic history of every member of the little territory within the porte-<;ochere. The porter's lodge is accordingly a great scene of gossip, where all the private affairs of this in- terior neighborhood are discussed. The court- yard, also, is an assembling-place in the evening for the servants of the different families, and a sisterhood of sewing-girls from the entresols and the attics, to play at various games, and dance to the music of their own songs and the echoes of their feet ; at which assemblages the porter's daughter takes the lead, — fresh, pretty, buxom girl, generally called ^^La Petite,'* though almost as tall as a grenadier. These little evening gatherings, so characteristic of this gay country, are countenanced by the various families of the mansion, who often look down from their windows and balconies on moonlight evenings, and enjoy the simple revels of their domestics. I must observe, however, that the hotel I am describing is rather a quiet, retired one, where most of the inmates are permanent residents from year to year, so that there is more of the spirit of neigh- borhood than in the bustling, fashionable hotels in the gay parts of Paris, which are continually changing their inhabitants. MY FRENCH NEIGHBOR. 219 Mr FRENCH NEIGHBOR. I OFTEN amuse myself by watching from my window (which, by the by, is tolerably elevated) the movements of the teeming little world below me ; and as I am on sociable terms with the porter and his wife, I gather from them, as they light my fire, or serve my breakfast, anecdotes of all my fellow-lodgers. I have been somewhat curious in studying a little antique Frenchman, who occu- pies one of the jolies chamhres a gargon already mentioned. He is one of those superannuated veterans who flourished before the Revolution, and have weathered all the storms of Paris, in con- sequence, very probably, of being fortunately too insignificant to attract attention. He has a small income, which he manages with the skill of a French economist ; appropriating so much for his lodgings, so much for his meals, so much for his visits to St. Cloud and Versailles, and so much for his seat at the theatre. He has resided at the hotel for years, and always in the same chamber, which he furnishes at his own expense. The decorations of the room mark his various ages. There are some gallant pictures, which he hung up in his younger days, with a portrait of a lady of rank, whom he speaks tenderly of, dressed in the old French taste, and a pretty opera-dancer, pirouett- ing in a hoop-petticoat, who lately died at a good old age. In a corner of this picture is stuck a prescription for rheumatism, and below it stands An easy-chair. He has a small parrot at the 22U SKETCHES IN PARIS. window, to amuse him when within doors, and a pug-dog to accompany him in his daily peregrina- tions. While I am writing, he is crossing the court to go out. He is attired in his best coat of sky-blue, and is doubtless bound for the Tuileries. His hair is dressed in the old style, with powdered ear-locks and a pigtail. His little dog trips after him, sometimes on four legs, sometimes on three, and looking as if his leather small-clothes were too tight for him. Now the old gentleman stops to have a word with an old crony who lives in the entresol, and is just returning from his promenade. Now they take a pinch of snuff together ; now they pull out huge red cotton handkerchiefs, (those " flags of abomination," as they have well been called,) and blow their noses most sonorously. Now they turn to make remarks upon their two little dogs, who are exchanging the morning's sal- utation ; now they part, and my old gentleman stops to have a passing word with the porter's wife ; and now he sallies forth, and is fairly launched upon the town for the day. No man is so methodical as a complete idler, and none so scrupulous in measuring and portion- ing out his time as he whose time is worth nothing. The old gentleman in question has his exact hour for rising, and for shaving himself by a small mir- ror hung against his casement. He sallies forth at a certain hour every morning, to take his cup of coffee and his roll at a certain cafe, where he reads the papers. He has been a regular admirer of the lady who presides at the bar, and always stops to have a little badinage with her, en passant 31 Y FRENCH NEIGHBOR. 221 He has his regular walks on the Boulevards and in the Palais Royal, where he sets his watch by the petard fired off by the sun at mid-day. He has liis daily resort in the Garden of the Tuileries, to meet with a knot of veteran idlers like himself, who talk on pretty much the same subjects when- ever they meet. He has been present at all the sights and shows and rejoicings of Paris for the last fifty years ; has witnessed the great events of the revolution ; the guillotining of the king and queen ; the coronation of Bonaparte ; the capture of Paris, and the restoration of the Bourbons. All these he speaks of with the coolness of a theatri- cal critic ; and I question whether he has not been gratified by each in its turn ; not from any in- herent love of tumult, but from that insatiable appetite for spectacle which prevails among the in- habitants of this metropolis. I have been amused with a farce, in which one of these systematic old triflers is represented. He sings a song detailing his whole day's round of insignificant occupations, and goes to bed delighted with the idea that his next day will be an exact repetition of the same routine : " Je me couche le soir, Enchant^ de pouvoir Reconimencer mon train Le lendemain Matin." 222 SKETCHES IN PARIS. THE ENGLISHMAN AT PARIS. In another part of the hotel, a handsome suite of rooms is occupied by an old English gentle- man, of great probity, some understanding, and very considerable crustiness, who has come to France to live economically. He has a very fair property, but his wife, being of that blessed kind compared in Scripture to the fruitful vine, has overwhelmed him with a family of buxom daugh- ters, who hang clustering about him, ready to be gathered by any hand. He is seldom to be seen in public without one hanging on each arm, and smiling on all the world, while his own mouth is drawn down at each corner like a mastiff's, with internal growling at everything about him. He adheres rigidly to English fashion in dress, and trudges about in long gaiters and broad-brimmed hat ; while his daughters almost overshadow him with feathers, flowers, and French bonnets. He contrives to keep up an atmosphere of Eng- lish habits, opinions, and prejudices, and to carry a semblance of London into the very heart of Paris. His mornings are spent at Galignani's news-room, where he forms one of a knot of in- veterate quidnuncs, who read the same articles over a dozen times in a dozen different papers. He generally dines in company with some of his own countrymen, and they have what is called a " comfortable sittinoj " after dinner, in the Enorlish fashion, drinking wine, discussing the news of the London papers, and canvassing the French THE ENGLISHMAN AT PARIS. 223 character, the French metropolis, and the French revohition, ending with a unanimous admission of English courage, English morality, English cook- ery, English wealth, the magnitude of London, and the ingratitude of the French. His evenings are chiefly spent at a club of his countrymen, where the London papers are taken. Sometimes his daughters entice him to the thea- tres, but not often. He abuses French tragedy, as all fustian and bombast. Talma as a ranter, and Duchesnois as a mere termagant. It is true his ear is not sufficiently familiar with the language to understand French verse, and he generally goes to sleep during the performance. The wit of the French comedy is flat and pointless to him. He would not give one of Munden's wry faces, or Liston's inexpressible looks, for the whole of it. He will not admit that Paris has any advantage over London. The Seine is a muddy rivulet in comparison with the Thames ; the West End of London surpasses the finest parts of the French capital ; and on some one's observing that there was a very thick fog out of doors, " Pish ! " said he, crustily, " it 's nothing to the fogs we have in London ! " He has infinite trouble in bringing his table into anything like conformity to English rule. With his liquors, it is true, he is tolerably suc- cessful. He procures London porter and a stock of port and sherry, at considerable expense, for he observes that he cannot stand those cursed thin French wines ; they dilute his blood so much as to give him the rheumatism. As to their white 224 SKETCHES IN PARIS. wines, he stigmatizes them as mere substitutes for cider ; and as to claret, why " it would be port if it could." He has continual quarrels with his French cook, whom he renders wretched by in- sisting on his conforming to Mrs. Glasse ; for it is easier to convert a Frenchman from his religion than his cookery. The poor fellow, by dint of repeated efforts, once brought himself to serve up ros hif sufficiently raw to suit what he considered the cannibal taste of his master ; but then he could not refrain, at the last moment, adding some exquisite sauce, that put the old gentleman in a fury. He detests wood-fires, and has procured a quan- tity of coal ; but not having a grate, he is obliged to burn it on the hearth. Here he sits poking and stirring the fire with one end of a tongs, while the room is as murky as a smithy ; railing at French chimneys, French masons, and French architects ; giving a poke at the end of every sentence, as though he were stirring up the very bowels of the delinquents he is anathematizing. He lives in a state militant with inanimate objects around him ; gets into high dudgeon with doors and casements because they will not come under English law, and has implacable feuds with sun- dry refractory pieces of furniture. Among these is one in particular with which he is sure to have a high quarrel every time he goes to dress. It is a commode, one of those smooth, polished, plausi- ble pieces of French furniture that have the per- versity of five hundred devils. Each drawer has a will of its own ; will open or not, just as the THE ENGLISHMAN AT PARIS. 225 whim takes it, aiid sets lock and key at defiance. Sometimes a drawer will refuse to yield to either persuasion or force, and will part with both han- dles rather than yield ; another will come out in the most coy and coquettish manner imaginable, elbowing along, zigzag, one corner retreating as the other advances, making a thousand difficulties and objections at every move, until the old gen- tleman, out of all patience, gives a sudden jerk, and brings drawer and contents into the middle of the floor. His hostility to this unlucky piece of furniture increases every day, as if incensed that it does not grow better. He is like the fret- ful invalid, who cursed his bed, that the longer he lay the harder it grew. The only benefit he has derived from the quarrel is, that it has furnished him with a crusty joke, which he utters on all occasions. He swears that a French commode is the most incommodious thing in existence, and that although the nation cannot make a joint-stool that will stand steady, yet they are always talking of everything's being perfectionee. His servants understand his humor, and avail themselves of it. He was one day disturbed by a pertinacious rattling and shaking at one of the doors, and bawled out in an angry tone to know the cause of the disturbance. " Sir," said the footman, testily, " it 's this confounded French lock ! " " Ah ! " said the old gentleman, pacified by this hit at the nation, " I thought there was something French at the bottom of, it I" 15 226 SKETCHES IN PARIS. ENGLISH AND FRENCH CHARACTER. As I Jim a riiere looker-on in Europe, and hold myself as much as possible aloof from its quarrels and prejudices, I feel something like one over- looking a game, who, without any great skill of his own, can occasionally ])erceive the blunders of much abler players. This neutrality of feel- ing enables me to enjoy the contrasts of character presented in this time of general peace, when the various people of Europe, who have so long been sundered by wars, are brought together and placed side by side in this great gathering-place of nations. No greater contrast, however, is ex- hibited than that of the French and English. The peace has deluged this gay capital with Eng- lish visitors of all ranks and conditions. They throng every place of curiosity and amusement ; fill the public gardens, the galleries, the cafes, saloons, theatres ; always herding together, never associating with the French. The two nations are like two threads of different colors, tangled together, but never blended. In fact, they present a continual antithesis, and seem to value themselves upon being unlike each other ; yet each have their peculiar merits, which should entitle them to each other's esteem. The French intellect is quick and active. It flashes its way into a subject with the rapidity of light- ning, seizes upon 'emote conclusions with a sud- den bound, and its deductions are almost intuitive. The English intellect is less rapid, but more per- ENGLISri AND FRENCH CUARACTER. 227 severing ; less sudden, l;ut more sure in its deduc- tions. The quickness and mobility of the French enable them to find enjoyment in the multiplicity of sensations. They speak and act more from immediate impressions than from reflection and uieditation. They are therefore more social and commuuicative, more fond of society and of places of public resort and amusement. An English- man is more reflective in his habits. He lives in the world of his own thoughts, and seems more self-existent and self-dependent. He loves the quiet of his own apartment ; even when abroad, he in a manner makes a little solitude around him by his silence and reserve ; he moves about shy and solitary, and as it were, buttoned up, body and soul. The French are great optimists ; they seize upon every good as it flies, and revel in the pass- ing pleasure. The Englishman is too apt to neglect the present good in preparing against the possible evil. However adversities may lower, let the sun shine but for a moment, and forth sallies the mercurial Frenchman, in holiday dress and holiday spirits, gay as a butterfly, as though his sunshine were perpetual ; but let the sun beam never so brightly, so there be but a cloud in the horizon, the wary Englishman ventures forth distrustfully, with his umbrella in his hand. The Frenchman has a wonderful facility at turning small things to advantage. No one can b(; gay and luxurious on smaller means ; no one requires less expense to be happy. He practises a kind of gilding in his style of living, and ham- 228 SKETCHES IN PARIS. mers out every guinea into gold-leaf. The Eng- lishman, on the contrary, is expensive in his hab- its and expensive in his enjoyments. He values everything, whether useful or ornamental, by what it costs. He has no satisfaction in show, unless it be solid and complete. Everything goes with him by the square foot. Whatever display he makes, the depth is sure to equal the surface. The Frenchman's habitation, like himself, is open, cheerful, bustling, and noisy. He lives in a part of a great hotel, with wide portal, paved court, a spacious dirty stone staircase, and a fam- ily on every floor. All is clatter and chatter. He is good-humored and talkative with his ser- vants, sociable with his neighbors, and complai- sant to all the world. Anybody has access to himself and his apartments ; his very bedroom is open to visitors, whatever may be its state of con- fusion ; and all this not from any peculiarly hos- pitable feeling, but from that communicative habit which predominates over his character. The Englishman, on the contrary, ensconces himself in a snug brick mansion, which he has all to himself ; locks the front-door ; puts broken bottles along his walls, and spring-guns and man- traps in his gardens ; shrouds himself with trees and window- curtains ; exults in his quiet and privacy, and seems disposed to keep out noise, daylight, and company. His house, like himself, has a reserved, inhospitable exterior ; yet who- ever gains admittance is apt to find a warm heart and warm fireside within. The French excel in wit, the English in hu- ENGLISH AND FRENCH CHARACTER. 229 mor ; the French have gayer fancy, the English richer imaginations. Tlie former are full of sen- sibiHty, easily moved, and prone to sudden and great excitement ; but their excitement is not durable ; the English are more phlegmatic, not so readily affected, but capable of being aroused to great enthusiasm. The faults of these oppo- site temperaments are, that the vivacity of the French is apt to sparkle up and be frothy, the gravity of the English to settle down and grow muddy. When the two characters can be fixed in a medium, the French kept from effervescence and the English from stagnation, both will be found excellent. This contrast of character may also be noticed in the great concerns of the two nations. The ardent Frenchman is all for military renown ; he fights for glory, that is to say, for success in arms. For, provided tiie national flag be victorious, he cares little about the expense, the injustice, or the inutility of the war. It is wonderful how the poorest Frenchman will revel on a triumphant bul- letin ; a great victory is meat and drink to him ; and at the sight of a military sovereign, bringing home captured cannon and captured standards, he throws up his greasy cap in the air, and is ready to jump out of his wooden shoes for joy. John Bull, on the contrary, is a reasoning, con- siderate person. If he does wrong, it is in the most rational way imaginable. He fights because the good of the world requires it. He is a moral person, and makes war upon his neighbor for the maintenance of peace and good order, and sound 230 SKETCHES IN PARIS. principles. He is a money-making personage, and fights for the prosperity of commerce and manufactures. Thus the two nations have been fighting, time out of mind, for glory and good Tlie French, in pursuit of glory, have had their capital twice taken ; and John, in pursuit of good, has run himself over head and ears in debt. THE TUILERIES AND WINDSOR CASTLE. I HAVE sometimes fancied I could discover na- tional characteristics in national edifices. In the Chateau of the Tuileries, for instance, I perceive the same jumble of contrarieties that marks the French character : the same whimsical mixture of the great and the little, the splendid and the paltry, the sublime and the grotesque. On visit- ing this famous pile, the first thing that strikes both eye and ear is military display. The courts glitter with steel-clad soldiery, and resound with tramp of horse, the roll of drum, and the bray of trumpet. Dismounted guardsmen patrol its ar- cades, with loaded carbines, jingling spurs, and clanking sabres. Gigantic grenadiers are posted about its staircases ; young officers of the guards loll from the balconies, or lounge in groups upon the terraces ; and the gleam of bayonet from win- dow to window shows that sentinels are pacing up and down the corridors and antechambers. The first floor is brilliant with the splendors of a court. French taste has tasked itself in adorning THE TVILERIES AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 231 the sumptuous suites of apartments ; nor are the gilded chapel and splendid theatre forgotten, where Piety and Pleasure are next-door neighbors, and harmonize together with perfect French hienseance. Mingled up with all this regal and military magnificence is a world of whimsical and make- shift detail. A great part of the huge edifice is cut up into little chambers and nestling-places for retainers of the court, dependants on retainers, and hangers-on of dependants. Some are squeezed into narrow entresols, those low, dark, interme- diate slices of apartments between floors, the in- habitants of which seem shoved in edgewise, like books between narrow shelves ; others are perched, like swallows, under the eaves ; the high roofs, too, which are as tall and steep as a French cocked hat, have rows of little dormer-windows, tier above tier, just large enough to admit light and air for some dormitory, and to enable its oc- cupant to peep out at the sky. Even to the very ridge of the roof may be seen, here and there, one of these air-holes, with a stove-pipe beside it, to carry off the smoke from the handful of fuel with which its weasen-faced tenant simmers his demi-tasse of cotFee. On approaching the palace from the Pont Ro- yal, you take in at a glance all the various strata of inhabitants : the garreteer in the roof, the re- tainer in the entresol, the courtiers at the case- ments of the royal apartments ; while on the ground-floor a steam of savory odors, and a score 'jr two of cooks, in white caps, bobbing their heads about the windows, betray that scientific and all- important laboratory, the royal kitchen. 232 SKETCHES IN PARTS. Go into the grand antechamber of the royal apartments on Sunday, and see the mixture of Old and New France : the old emigres^ returned with the Bourbons ; little, withered, spindle- shanked old noblemen, clad in court-dresses, that figured in these saloons before the revolution, and have been carefully treasured up during their ex- ile ; with the solitaires and ailes de pigeon of for- mer days, and the court -swords strutting out behind, like pins stuck through dry beetles. See them haunting the scenes of their former splen- dor, in hopes of a restitution of estates, like ghosts haunting the vicinity of buried treasure ; while around them you see Young France, grown up in the fighting school of Napoleon, equipped en militaire : tall, hardy, frank, vigorous, sunburnt, fierce-whiskered ; with tramping boots, towering crests, and glittering breastplates. It is incredible the number of ancient and he- reditary feeders on royalty said to be housed in this establishment. Indeed, all the royal palaces abound with noble families returned from exile, and who have nestling-places allotted them while they await the restoration of their estates, or the much-talked-of law, indemnity. Some of them have fine quarters, but poor living. Some fami- lies have but five or six hundred francs a year, and all their retinue consists of a servant-woman. With all this, they maintain their old aristocrati- cal hauteur, look down Avith vast contempt upon the opulent families which have risen since the revolution ; stigmatize them all as parvenus, or upstarts, and refuse to visit them. THE TUILERIES AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 23S In regarding the exterior of the Tuileries, with all its outwiird signs of internal populousness, I have often thought what a rare sight it would be to see it suddenly unroofed, and all its nooks and corners laid open to the day. It would be like turning up the stump of an old tree, and dis- lodging the world of grubs and ants and beetles lodged beneath. Indeed, there is a scandalous anecdote current, that, in the time of one of the petty plots, when petards were exploded under the windows of the Tuileries, the police made a sudden investigation of the palace at four o'clock in the morning, when a scene of the most whim- sical confusion ensued. Hosts of supernumerary inliabitants were found foisted into the huge edi- fice : every rat-hole had its occupant ; and places which had been considered as tenanted only by spiders, were found crowded with a surreptitious population. It is added, that many ludicrous ac- cidents occurred ; great scampering and slamming of doors, and whisking away in night-gowns and slippers ; and several persons, who were found by accident in their neighbors' chambers, evinced in- dubitable astonishment at the circumstance. As I have fancied I could read the French character in the national palace of the Tuileries, so I have pictured to myself some of the traits of John Bull in his royal abode of Windsor Castle. The Tuileries, outwardly a peaceful palace, is in eifect a swaggering military hold ; while the old castle, on the contrary, in spite of its bullying look, is completely under petticoat government. Kvery corner and nook is built up into some 234 SKETCHES IN PARIS. snug, cosy nestling-place, some " procreant cra- dle," not tenanted by meagre expectants or whis- kered warriors, but by sleek placemen ; knowing realizers of present pay and present pudding ; who seem placed there not to kill and destroy, but to breed and multiply. Nursery-maids and children shine with rosy faces at the windows, and swarm about the courts and terraces. The very soldiery have a pacific look, and, when off duty, may be seen loitering about the place with the nursery -maids ; not making love to them in the gay gallant style of the French soldiery, but with infinite honhommie aiding them to take care of the broods of children. Though the old castle is in decay, everything about it thrives ; the very crevices of the walls are tenanted by swallows, rooks, and pigeons, all sure of quiet lodgment ; the ivy strikes its roots deep in the fissures, and flourishes about the mouldering tower.* Thus it is with honest John : according to his own account, he is ever going to ruin, yet everything that lives on him thrives and waxes fat. He would fain be a soldier, and swagger like his neighbors ; but his domestic, quiet-loving, uxorious nature continually gets the upper hand ; and though he may mount his helmet and gird on his sword, yet he is apt to sink into the plodding, painstaking father of a family, with a troop of children at his heels, and his womenkind hanging on each arm. * The above sketch was written before the thorough repairs and magnificent additions made of late years to Windsor Cas- tle. -^ WoHert's Roost, p. 234. Windsor Castle. THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 235 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. I HAVE spoken heretofore with some levity of the contrast that exists between the English and French character ; but it deserves more serious consideration. They are the two great nations of modern times most diametrically opposed, and most worthy of each other's rivalry ; essentially distinct in their characters, excelling in opposite qualities, and reflecting lustre on each other by their very opposition. In nothing is this contrast more strikingly evinced than in their military con- duct. For ages have they been contending, and for ages have they crowded each other's history with acts of splendid heroism. Take the Battle of Waterloo, for instance, the last and most mem- orable trial of their rival prowess. Nothing could surpass the brilliant daring on the one side, and the steadfast enduring on the other. The French cavalry broke like waves on the compact squares of English infantry. They were seen galloping round those serried walls of men, seeking in vain for an entrance ; tossing their arms in the air, in the heat of their enthusiasm, and braving the whole front of battle. The British troops, on the other hand, forbidden to move or fire, stood firm and enduring. Their columns were ripped up by cannonry ; whole rows were swept down at a shot ; the survivors closed their ranks, and stood firm. In this way many columns stood through the pelting of the iron tempest without firing a shot, without any action to stir their blood or ex- 236 SKETCHES IN PARIS. cite their spirits. Death thinned their ranks, but could not shake their souls. A beautiful instance of the quick and generous impulses to which the French are prone is given in the case of a French cavalier, in the hottest of the action, charging furiously upon a British officer, but, perceiving in the moment of assault that his adversary had lost his sword-arm, dropping the point of his sabre, and courteously riding on. Peace be with that generous warrior, whatever were his fate ! If he went down in the storm of battle, with the foundering fortunes of his chieftain, may the turf of Waterloo grow green above his grave ! — and happier far would be the fate of such a spirit to sink amidst the tempest, uncon- scious of defeat, than to survive and mourn over the blighted laurels of his country. In this way the two armies fought through a long and bloody day, — the French with enthusi- astic valor, the English with cool, inflexible cour- age, until Fate, as if to leave the question of superiority still undecided between two such ad- versaries, brought up the Prussians to decide the fortunes of the field. It was several years afterward that I visited the field of Waterloo. The ploughshare had been busy with its oblivious labors, and the frequent harvest had nearly obliterated the vestiges of war. Still the blackened ruins of Hoguemont stood, a monumental pile to mark the violence of this vehement struggle. Its broken walls, pierced by bullets and shattered by explosions, showed the deadly strife that had taken place within, when THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 237 Gaul and Briton, hemmed in between narrow walls, hand to hand and foot to foot, fought fi-om garden to court-yard, from court-yard to chamber, with intense and concentrated rivalship. Columns of smoke towered from this vortex of battle as from a volcano : " it was," said my guide, " like a little hell upon earth." Not far off, two or three broad spots of rank, unwholesome green still marked the places where these rival warriors, after their fierce and fitful struggle, slept quietly together in the lap of their common mother earth. Over all the rest of the field peace had resumed its sway. The thoughtless whistle of the peasant floated on the air instead of tlie trumpet's clangor; the team slowly labored up the hill-side once shaken by the hoofs of rushing squadrons ; and wide fields of corn waved peacefully over the soldiers' grave, as summer seas dimple over the place where the tall ship lies buried. To the foregoing desultory notes on the French military character, let me append a few traits which I picked up verbally in one of the French provinces. They may have already appeared in print, but I have never met with them. At the breaking out of the revolution, when so many of the old families emigrated, a descendant of the great Turenne, by the name of De Latour D'Auvergne, refused to accompany his relations, and entered into the republican army. He served in all the campaigns of the revolution, distin- guished himself by his valor, his accomplishments, and his generous spirit, and might have risen to 238 SKETCHES IN PARIS. fortune and to the highest honors. He refused, however, all rank in the army above that of captain, and would receive no recompense for his achievements but a sword of honor. Napoleon, in testimony of his merits, gave him the title of Premier Grenadier de France, (First Grenadier of France,) which was the only title he M^ou'ld- ever bear. He was killed in Germany at the battle of Neuburg. To honor his memory, his place was always retained in his regiment as if he still occupied it ; and whenever the regiment was mustered, and the name of De Latour D'Auvergne was called out, the reply was : " Dead on the field of honor ! " PAEIS AT THE RESTORATION. Paris presented a singular aspect just after the downfall of Napoleon and the restoration of the Bourbons. It was filled with a restless, roam- ing population, — a dark, sallow race, with fierce moustaches, black cravats, and feverish, menacing looks, — men suddenly thrown out of employ by the return of peace ; officers cut short in their career, and cast loose with scanty means, many of them in utter indigence, upon the world ; the broken elements of armies. They haunted the places of public resort, like restless, unhappy spirits, taking no pleasure ; hanging about like lowering clouds that linger after a storm, and PARIS AT THE RESTORATION. 239 giving a singular air of gloom to this otherwise gay metropolis. The vaunted courtesy of the old scliool, the smooth urbanity that prevailed in former days of settled government and long-established aris- tocracy, had disappeared amidst the savage repub- licanism of the revolution and the military furor of the empire ; recent reverses had stung the national vanity to the quick, and English travel- lers, who crowded to Paris on the return of peace, expecting to meet with a gay, good - humored, complaisant populace, such as existed in the time of the " Sentimental Journey," were surprised at finding them irritable and fractious, quick at fancying affronts, and not unapt to offer insults. They accordingly inveighed with heat and bitter- ness at the rudeness they experienced in the French metropolis ; yet what better had they to expect ? Had Charles II. been reinstated in his kingdom by the valor of French troops ; had he been wheeled triumphantly to London over the trampled bodies and trampled standards of Eng- land's bravest sons ; had a French general dic- tated to the English capital, and a French army been quartered in Hyde Park ; had Paris poured forth its motley population, and the wealthy bour- geoisie of every French trading town swarmed to London, crowding its squares, filling its streets with their equipages, thronging its fashionable hotels and places of amusements, elbowing its im- poverished nobility out of their palaces and opera- boxes, and looking down on the humiliated in- habitants as a conquered people ; in such a re 240 SKETCHES IN PARIS. verse of the case, what degree of courtesy would the populace of Loudon have been apt, to exer- cise toward their visitors ? * On the contraiy, I have always admired the degree of magnanimity exhibited by the French on the occupation of their capital by the English. When we consider the military ambition of this nation, its love of glory, the splendid height to which its renown in arms had recently been car- ried, and, with these, the tremendous reverses it had just undergone, its armies shattered, annihi- lated, its capital captured, garrisoned, and overrun, and that too by its ancient rival, the English, toward whom it had cherished for centuries a jealous and almost religious hostility, could we have wondered if the tiger-spirit of this fiery people had broken out in bloody feuds and deadly quarrels, and that they had sought to rid them- selves in any way of their invaders ? But it is cowardly nations only, those who dare not wield the sword, that revenge themselves with the lurk- ing dagger. There were no assassinations in Paris. The French had fought valiantly, desper- ately, in the field ; but, when valor was no longer of avail, they submitted, like gallant men, to a fate they could not withstand. Some instances of in- sult from the populace were experienced by their English visitors ; some personal rencontres which led to duels did take place ; but these smacked of * The above remarks were suggested by a conversation ■with the late Mr. Canning, whom the author met in Paris, and who expressed himself in the most liberal way concern- ing the magnanimity of the French on the occupation of their capital by strangers. PARIS AT THE RESTORATION. 241 open and honorable hostility. No instances of lurking and perfidious revenge occurred ; and the British soldier patrolled the streets of Paris safe from treacherous assault. If the English met with harshness and repulse in social intercourse, it was in some degree a proof that the people are more sincere than has been rep- resented. The emigrants who had just returned were not yet reinstated. Society was constituted of those who had flourished under the late regime, — the newly ennobled, the recently enriched, who felt their prosperity and their consequence en- dangered by this change of things. The broken- down officer, who saw his glory tarnished, his fortune ruined, his occupation gone, could not be expected to look with complacency upon the authors of his downfall. The English visitor, flushed with health and wealth and victory, could little enter into the feelings of the blighted war- rior, scarred with a hundred battles, an exile from the camp, broken in constitution by the wars, im- poverished by the peace, and cast back, a needy stranger in the splendid but captured metropolis of his country. " Oh ! who can tell what heroes feel Wlien all but life and honor's lost! " And here let me notice the conduct of the French soldiery on the dismemberment of the array of the Loire, when two hundred thousand men were suddenly thrown out of employ ; — men who had been brought up to the camp, and scarce knew any other home. Few in civil, peaceful life are aware of the severe trial to the feelings 16 242 SKETCHES IN PARIS. that takes place on the dissolution of a regiment. There is a fraternity in arms. The community of dangers, hardships, enjoyments ; the participa- tion in battles and victories ; the companionship in adventures, at a time of life when men's feel- ings are most fresh, susceptible, and ardent ; all these bind the members of a regiment strongly to- gether. To them the regiment is friends, family, home. They identify themselves with its fortunes, its glories, its disgraces. Imagine this romantic tie suddenly dissolved ; the regiment broken up ; the occupation of its members gone ; their mili- tary pride mortified ; the career of glory closed behind them ; that of obscurity, dependence, want, neglect, perhaps beggary, before them. Such was the case with the soldiers of the army of the Loire. They were sent off in squads, with offi- cers, to the principal towns, where they were to be disarmed and discharged. In this way they passed through the country with arms in their hands, often exposed to slights and scoffs, to hun- ger and various hardships and privations ; but they conducted themselves magnanimously, with- out any of those outbreaks of violence and wrong that so often attend the dismemberment of armies. The few years that have elapsed since the time aoove alluded to have already had their effect. The nroud and angry spirits which then roamed about Paris unemployed have cooled down and found occupation. The national character begins to recover its old channels, though worn deeper by lecent torrents. The natural urbanity of the PARIS AT THE RESTORATION. 243 French begins to find its way, like oil, to the sur- face, though there still remains a degree of rough- ness and bluntness of manner, partly real, and partly affected, by such as imagine it to indicate force and frankness. The events of the last thirty years have rendered the French a more reflecting people. They have acquked greater indepen- dence of mind and strength of judgment, together Mdth a portion of that prudence w^hich results from experiencing the dangerous consequences of excesses. However that period may have been stained by crimes and filled with extravagances, the French have certainly come out of it a greater nation than before. One of theu' own philosophers observes, that in one or two generations the na- tion will probably combine the ease and elegance of the old character with force and solidity. They were light, he says, before the revolution ; then wild and savage ; they have become more thought- ful and reflective. It is only old Frenchmen, now- adays, that are gay and trivial ; the young are very serious personages. P. S. — In the course of a morning's walk, about the time the above remarks were written, I ob- served the Duke of Wellington, who was on a brief visit to Paris. He was alone, simply attired m a blue frock, with an umbrella under his arm and his hat drawn over his eyes, and sauntering across the Place Vendorae, close by the column of Napoleon. He gave a glance up at the col- umn as he passed, and continued his loitering way up the Rue de la Paix ; stopping occasionally to 244 SKETCHES IN PARIS. gaze in at the shop-windows ; elbowed now and then by other gazers, who little suspected that the quiet, lounging individual they were jostling so unceremoniously was the conqueror who had twice entered their capital victoriously, had controlled the destinies of the nation, and eclipsed the glory of the military idol at the base of whose column he was thus negligently sauntering. Some years afterwards I was at an evening's entertainment given by the Duke at Apsley House, to William IV. The Duke had manifested his admiration of his great adversary by having por- traits of him in different parts of the house. At the bottom of the grand staircase stood the colos- sal statue of the Emperor, by Canova. It was of marble, in the antique style, with one arm partly extended, holding a figure of victory. Over this arm the ladies, in tripping up-stairs to the ball, had thrown their shawls. It was a singular office for the statue of Napoleon to perform in the mansion of the Duke of Wellington ! " Imperial Caesar dead, and turned to clay," etc., etc. A CONTENTED MAN. N the garden of the Tuileries there is a sunny corner under the wall of a terrace which fronts the south. Along the wall is a range of benches commanding a view of the walks and avenues of the garden. This genial nook is a place of great resort in the latter part of autumn, and in fine days in winter, as it seems to retain the flavor of departed summer. On a calm, bright morning, it is quite alive with nurs- ery-maids and their playful little charges. Hither also resort a number of ancient ladies and gentle- men, who, with laudable thrift in small pleasures and small expenses, for which the French are to be noted, come here to enjoy sunshine and save firewood. Here may often be seen some cavalier of the old school, when the sunbeams have warmed his blood into something like a glow, fluttering about like a frost-bitten moth thawed before the fire, putting forth a feeble show of gallantry among the antiquated dames, and now and then eyeing the buxon nursery-maids with what might almost be mistaken for an air of libertinism. Among the habitual frequenters of this place I had often remarked an old gentleman whose 246 A CONTENTED MAN. dress was decidedly anti-re volutional. He wore the three-cornered cocked hat of the ancien re- gime ; his hair was frizzed over each ear into ailes de pigeon, a style strongly savoring of Bour- bonism ; and a queue stuck out behind, the loy- alty of M^hich was not to be disputed. His dress, though ancient, had an air of decayed gentility, and I observed that he took his snufF out of an elegant though old-fashioned gold box. He ap- peared to be the most popular man on the walk. He had a compliment for every old lady, he kissed every child, and he patted every little dog on the head ; for children and little dogs are very im- portant members of society in France. I must observe, however, that he seldom kissed a child without, at the same time, pinching the nursery- maid's cheek ; a Frenchman of the old school never forgets his devoirs to the sex. I had taken a liking to this old gentleman. There was an habitual expression of benevolence in his face, which I have very frequently remarked in these relics of the politer days of France. The constant interchange of those thousand little cour- tesies which imperceptibly sweeten life, has a happy effect upon the features, and spreads a mel- low evening charm over the wrinkles of old age. Where there is a favorable predisposition, one soon forms a kind of tacit intimacy by often meet- ing on the same walks. Once or twice I accom- modated him with a bench, after which we touched hats on passing each other ; at length we got so far as to take a pinch of snuff together out of his box, which is equivalent to eating salt together A CONTENTED MAN. 2 i7 in the East ; from that time our acquaintance was established. I now became his frequent companion in his morning promenades, and derived much amuse- ment from his good-humored remarks on men and manners. One morning, as we were stroUiuix through an alley of the Tuileries, with the au- tumnal breeze whirling the yellow leaves about our path, my companion fell into a peculiarly communicative vein, and gave me several particu- lars of his history. He had once been wealthy, and possessed of a fine estate in the country and a noble hotel in Paris ; but the revolution, which effected so many disastrous changes, stripped him of everything. He was secretly denounced by his own steward during a sanguinary period of the revolution, and a number of the bloodhounds of the Convention were sent to arrest him. He received private intelligence of their approach in time to effect his escape. He landed in England without money or friends, but considered himself singularly fortunate in having his head upon his shoulders, several of his neighbors having been guillotined as a punishment for being rich. When he reached London he had but a louis in his pocket, and no prospect of getting another. He ate a solitary dinner on beefsteak, and was almost poisoned by port wine, which from its color he had mistaken for claret. The dingy look of the chop-house, and of the little ma- hogany-colored box in which he ate his dinner, contrasted sadly with the gay saloons of Paris. Everything looked gloomy and disheartening. 248 A CONTENTED MAN Poverty stared him in the face ; he turned over the few shillings he had of change ; did not know what was to become of him ; and — went to the theatre ! He took his seat in the pit, listened attentively to a tragedy of which he did not understand a word, and which seemed made up of fighting, and stabbing, and scene-shifting, and began to feel his spirits sinking within him ; when, casting his eyes into the orchestra, what was his surprise to recog- nize an old fi-iend and neighbor in the very act of extortino; music from a huoje violoncello. As soon as the evening's performance was over he tapped his friend on the shoulder ; they kissed each other on each cheek, and the musician took him home, and shared his lodgings with him. He had learned music as an accomplishment ; by his friend's advice he now turned to it as a means of support. He procured a violin, offered him- self for the orchestra, was received, and again considered himself one of the most fortunate men upon earth. Here, therefore, he lived for many years during the ascendency of the terrible Napoleon. He found several emigrants living like himself, by the exercise of their talents. They associated together, talked of France and of old times, and endeavored to keep up a semblance of Parisian life in the centre of London. They dined at a miserable cheap French res- taurateur in the neighborhood of Leicester Square, where they were served with a caricature of French cookery. They took their promenade in A CONTENTED MAN. 249 St. James's Park, and endeavored to fancy it the Tuileries ; in short, they made shift to accommo- date themselves to everything but an Enghsh Sunday. Indeed, the old gentleman seemed to have nothing to say against the English, whom he affirmed to be braves gens ; and he mingled so much among them, that at the end of twenty years he could speak their language almost well enough to be understood. The downfall of Napoleon was another epoch in his life. He had considered himself a fortu- nate man to make his escape penniless out of France, and he considered himself fortunate to be able to return penniless into it. It is true tliat he found his Parisian hotel had passed throuijh several hands during; the vicissitudes of the times, so as to be beyond the reach of re- covery ; but then he had been noticed benignantly by government, and had a pension of several hun- dred francs, upon which, with careful manage- ment, lie lived independently, and, as far as I could judge, happily. As his once splendid hotel was now occupied as a hotel garni, he hired a small chamber in the attic ; it was but, as he said, changing his bed- room up two pair of stairs, — he was still in his own house. His room was decorated with pic- tures of several beauties of former times, with whom he professed to have been on favorable terms ; among them was a favorite opera-dancer, who had been the admiration of Paris at the breaking out of the revolution. She had been a 'protegee of my friend, and one of the few of his 250 A CONTENTED MAN. youthful fiivorites who had survived the lapse of time and its various vicissitudes. They had re- newed their acquaintance, and she now and then visited him ; but the beautiful Psyche, once the fashion of the day and the idol of the parterre, was now a shrivelled, little old woman, warped in the back, and with a hooked nose. The old gentleman was a devout attendant upon levees ; he was most zealous in his loyalty, and could not speak of the royal family without a burst of enthusiasm, for he still felt towards them as his companions in exile. As to his poverty he made light of it, and indeed had a good-humored way of consoling himself for every cross and privation. If he had lost his chateau in the country, he had half a dozen royal palaces, as it were, at his command. He had Versailles and St. Cloud for his country resorts, and the shady alleys of the Tuilerles and the Luxem- bourg for his town recreation. Thus all his promenades and relaxations were magnificent, yet cost nothing. When I walk through these fine gardens, said he, I have only to fancy myself the owner of them, and they are mine. All these gay crowds are my visitors, and I defy the grand seignior himself to display a greater variety of beauty. Nay, what is better, I have not the trouble of entertaining them. My estate is a perfect Sans Souci, where every one does as he pleases, and no one troubles the owner. All Paris is my theatre, and presents me with a con- tinual spectacle. I have a table spread for me in every street, and thousands of waiters ready to A CONTENTED MAN. 251 fly at my bidding. When my servants have waited upon me I pay them, discharge them, and there 's an end ; I have no fears of their wrong- ing or pilfering me when my back is turned. Upon tlie whole, said the old gentleman, with a smile of infinite good-humor, when I think upon the various risks I have run, and the manner in which I have escaped them, when I recollect all that T have suffered, and consider all that I at present enjoy, I cannot but look upon myself as a man of singular good fortvme. Such was the brief histojy of this practical philosopher, and it is a picture of many a French man ruined by the revolution. The French ap pear to have a greater facility than most men in accommodating themselves to the reverses of life, and of extracting honey out of the bitter things of this world. The first shock of calamity is apt to overwhelm them ; but when it is once past, their natural buoyancy of feeling soon brings them to the surface. This may be called the result of levity of character, but it answers the end of reconciling us to misfortune, and if it be not true philosophy, it is something almost as efficacious. Ever since I have heard the story of my little Frenchman, I have treasured it up in my heart ; and I thank my stars I have at length found, what I had long considered as not to be found on earth ; — a contented man. P. S. — There is no calculating on human ha])- piness. Since writing the foregoing, the law of indemnity has been passed, and my friend restored 252 A CONTENTED MAN. to a great part of his fortune. I was absent from Paris at the time, but on my return hast- ened to congratulate him. I found him magnifi cently lodged on the first tioor of his hotel. 1 was ushered, by a servant in livery, through splendid saloons, to a cabinet richly furnished, where I found my little Frenchman reclining on a couch. He received me with his usual cor- diality ; but I saw the gayety and benevolence of his countenance had fled ; he had an eye full of care and anxiety. I congratulated him_ on his good fortune. " Good fortune ? " echoed he ; " bah ! I have been plundered of a princely fortune, and they give me a pittance as an indemnity." Alas ! I found my late poor and contented friend one of the richest and most miserable men in Paris. Instead of rejoicing in the ample com- petency restored to him, he is daily repining at the superfluity withheld. He no longer wanders in happy idleness about Paris, but is a repining attendant in the antechambers of ministers. His loyalty has evaporated with his gayety ; he screws his mouth when the Bourbons are mentioned, and even shrugs his shoulders when he hears the praises of the king. In a word, he is one of the many philosophers undone by the law of in- demnity ; and his case is desperate, for I doubt whether even another reverse of fortune, which should restore him to poverty, could make him again a happy man. BROEK : THE DUTCH PARADISE. T has long been a matter of discussion controversy among the pious and learned, as to the situation of the terrestrial paradise whence our first parents were exiled. This question has been put to rest by certain of the faithful in Holland, who have de- cided in favor of the village of Broek, about six miles from Amsterdam. It may not, they observe, correspond in all respects to the descrip- tion of the garden of Eden, handed down from days of yore, but it comes nearer to their ideas of a perfect paradise than any other place on earth. This eulogium induced me to make some in- quiries as to this favored spot, in the course of a sojourn at the city of Amsterdam ; and the in- formation I procured fully justified the enthu- siastic praises I had heard. The village of Broek is situated in Waterland, in the midst of the greenest and richest pastures of Holland, I may say, of Europe. These pastures are the source of its wealth ; for it is famous for its dai- ries, and for those oval cheeses which regale and perfume the whole civilized world. The popula- 254 BROEK- OR, THE DUTCH PARADISE. tion consists of about six hundred persons, com- prising several families which have inhabited the place since time immemorial, and have waxed rich on the products of their meadows. They keep all their wealth among themselves, inter- marrying, and keeping all strangers at a wary distance. They are a " hard money " people, and remarkable for turning the penny the right way. It is said to have been an old rule, estab- lished by one of the primitive financiers and legislators of Broek, that no one sliould leave the village with more than six guilders in his pocket, or return with less than ten ; a shrewd regulation, well worthy the attention of modern political economists, who are so anxious to fix the balance of trade. What, however, renders Broek so perfect an elysium in the eyes of all true Hollanders is the matchless height to which the spirit of cleanliness is carried there. It amounts almost to a religion among the inhabitants, vvho pass the greater part of their time rubbing and scrubbing, and paint- ing and varnishing ; each housewife vies with her neighbor in her devotion to the scrubbing-brush, as zealous Catholics do in their devotion to the cross ; and it is said, a notable housewife of the place in days of yore is held in pious remembrance, and almost canonized as a saint, for having died of pure exhaustion and chagrin, in an ineffectual attempt to scour a black man white. These particulars awakened my ardent curiosity to see a place which I pictured to myself the very fountain - head of certain hereditary habits and BROEK: OR, THE DUTCH PARADISE. 255 cu«;toms prevalent among the descendants of the original Dutch settlers of niy native State. I accordingly lost no tinae in performing a pilgrim- age to Broek. Before I reached the place, I beheld symptoms of the tranquil character of its inhabitants. A little clump-built boat was in full sail along the hizy bosom of a canal, but its sail consisted of the blades of two paddles stood on end, while the navigator sat steering with a third paddle in the stern, crouched down like a toad, with a slouched hat drawn over his eyes. I presumed him to be some nautical lover, on the way to his mistress. After proceeding a little farther, I came in sight of the harbor or port of destination of this drowsy navigator. This was the Broeken-Meer, an arti- ficial basin, or sheet of olive-green v/ater, tranquil as a mill-pond. On this the village of Broek is situated, and the borders are laboriously decorated with flower-beds, box-trees clipped into all kinds of ingenious shapes and fancies, and little " lust " houses or pavilions. I alighted outside of the village, for no horse nor vehicle is permitted to enter its precincts, lest it should cause defilement of the well-scoured pavements. Shaking the dust off my feet, there- fore, I prepared to enter, with due reverence and circumspection, this sanctum sanctorum of Dutch cleanliness. I entered by a narrow street, paved with yellow bricks, laid edgewise, and so clean that one miglit eat from them. Indeed, they were actually worn deep, not by the tread of feet, but by the friction of the scrubbing-brush. 256 BROEK: OR, THE DUTCH PARADISE. The houses were built of wood, and all ap- peared to have been freshly painted, of green, yellow, and other bright colors. They were sep* arated from each other by gardens and orchards, and stood at some little distance from the street, with wide areas or court-yards, paved in mosaic, with variegated stones, polished by frequent rub- bing. The areas were divided from the street by curiously wrought railings, or balustrades, of iron, surmounted with brass and copper balls, scoured into dazzling effulgence. The very trunks of the trees in front of the houses were by the same process made to look as if they had been var- nished. The porches, doors, and window-frames of the houses were of exotic woods, curiously carved, and polished like costly furniture. The front-doors are never opened, excepting on chris- tenings, marriages, or funerals ; on all ordinary occasions, visitors enter by the back - door. In former times, persons when admitted had to put on slippers, but this oriental ceremony is no longer insisted upon. A poor-devil Frenchman, who attended upon me as cicerone, boasted with some degree of exultation of a triumph of his countrymen over the stern regulations of the place. During the time that Holland was overrun by the armies of the French republic, a French general, sur- rounded by his whole etat major, who had come from Amsterdam to view the wonders of Broek, applied for admission at one of these tabooed portals. The reply was, that the OAvner never received any one who did not come introduced by BROEK: OR, THE DUTCH PARADISE. 257 some friend. "Very well," said the general, " take my compliments to your master, and tell him I will return here to-morrow with a company of soldiers, pour parler raison avec mon ami Hol- landais." Terrified at the idea of having a com- pany of soldiers billeted upon him, the owner threw open his house, entertained the general and his retinue Avith unwonted hospitality, though it is said it cost the family a month's scrubbing and scouring to restore all things to exact order after this military invasion. My vagabond informant seemed to consider this one of the greatest victo- ries of the republic. I walked about the place in mute wonder and admiration. A dead stillness prevailed around, like that in the deserted streets of Pompeii. No sign of life was to be seen, excepting now and then a hand, and a long pipe, and an occasional puff of smoke, out of the window of some " lust- haus " overhanging a miniature canal ; and on approaching a little nearer, the periphery in pro- file of some robustious burgher. Among the grand houses pointed out to me were those of Claes Bakker and Cornelius Bak- ker, richly carved and gilded, with flower-gardens and clipped shrubberies ; and that of the Great Ditmus, who, my poor-devil cicerone informed me in a whisper, was worth two millions ; all these were mansions shut up from the world, and only kept to be cleaned. After having been con- ducted from one wonder to another of the village, I was ushered by my guide into the grounds and gardens of Mynheer Broekker, another mighty 17 258 BROEK: OR, THE DUTCH PARADISE. cheese-man ufactiirer^ worth eighty thousand guild- ers a year. I had repeatedly been struck with the similarity of all that I had seen in this am- phibious little village to the buildings and land- scapes on Chinese platters and teapots ; but here I found the similarity complete, for I was told that these gardens were modelled upon Van Bramm's description of those of Yuen min Yuen, in China. Here were serpentine walks, with trel- lised borders ; winding canals, with fanciful Chinese bridges ; flower - beds resembling huge baskets, with the flower of " love lies bleedino; " fallincr over to the ground. But mostly had the fancy of Mynheer Broekker been displayed about a stagnant little lake, on which a corpulent-like pinnace lay at anchor. On the border was a cottage, within which were a wooden man and woman seated at table, and a wooden dog beneath, all the size of life ; on pressing a spring, the woman commenced spinning and the dog barked furiously. On the lake were wooden swans, painted to the life ; some floating, others on the nest among the rushes ; while a wooden sportsman, crouched among the bushes, was preparing his gun to take deadly aim. In another part of the garden was a dominie in his clerical robes, with wig, pipe, and cocked hat ; and mandarins with nodding heads, amid red lions, green tigers, and blue hares. Last of all, the heathen deities, in wood and plaster, male and female, naked and barefaced as usual, and seeming to stare with wonder at finding themselves in such strange company. BROEK: OR, THE DUTCH PARADISE. 259 My shabby French guide, while he pointed out all these mechanical marvels of the ojarden, was anxious to let me see that he had too polite a taste to be pleased by them. At every new nick- nack he would screw down his mouth, shrug up his shoulders, take a pinch of snuff, and exclaim : ^'•Ma foi, Monsieur, ces Hollandais sont forts pour ces hetises-lcc ! " To attempt to gain admission to any of these stately abodes was out of the question, having no company of soldiers to enforce a solicitation. I was fortunate enough, however, through the aid of my guide, to make my way into the kitchen of the illustrious Ditmus, and I question whether the parlor would have proved more worthy of obser- vation. The cook, a little wiry, hook-nosed woman, worn thin by incessant action and fric- tion, was bustling about among her kettles and saucepans, with the scullion at her heels, both clattering in wooden shoes, which were as clean and white as the milk-pails ; rows of vessels, of brass and copper, regiments of pewter dishes and portly porringers, gave resplendent evidence of the intensity of their cleanliness ; the very trannnels and hangers in the fireplace were highly scoured, and the burnished face of the good Saint Nicholas shone forth from the iron plate of the chimney- back. Among the decorations of the kitchen was a printed sheet of wood-cuts, representing the vari- ous holiday customs of Holland, with explanatory rhymes. Here I was delighted to recognize the jollities of New- Year's day, the festivities of 260 BROEK: OR, THE DUTCH PARADISE, Paas and Pinkster, and all the other merrymak- ings handed down in my native place from the earliest times of New Amsterdam, and which had been such bright spots in the year in my child- hood. I eagerly made myself master of this precious document for a trifling consideration, and bore it off as a memento of the place ; though I question if, in so doing, I did not carry off with me the whole current literature of Broek. I must not omit to mention that this village is the paradise of cows as well as men ; indeed, you would almost suppose the cow to be as much an object of worship here, as the bull was among the ancient Egyptians ; and well does she merit it, for she is in fact the patroness of the place. The same scrupulous cleanliness, however, which pervades everything else, is manifested in the treatment of this venerated animal. She is not permitted to perambulate the place ; but in winter, when she forsakes the rich pasture, a well-built house is provided for her, well painted, and maintained in the most perfect order. Her stall is of ample di- mensions ; the floor is scrubbed and polished ; her hide is daily curried and brushed and sponged to her heart's content, and her tail is daintily tucked up to the ceiling, and decorated with a ribbon ! On my way back through the village, I passed the house of the prediger, or preacher ; a very com- fortable mansion, which led me to augur well of the state of religion in the village. On inquiry, I was told that for a long time the inhabitants lived in a great state of indifference as to religious mat- ters; it was in vain that their preachers en- BROEK: OR, THE DUTCH PARADISE. 261 deavored to arouse their thoughts as to a future state ; the joys of heaven, as commonly depicted, were but little to their taste. At length a dom- inie appeared among them who struck out in a different vein. He depicted the New Jerusalem as a place all smooth and level, with beautiful dykes and ditches and canals, and houses all shin- ing with paint and varnish and glazed tiles, and where there should never come horse, nor ass, nor cat, nor dog, nor anything that could make noise or dirt ; but there should be nothing but rubbing and scrubbing, and washing and painting, and gilding and varnishing, for ever and ever, amen ! Since that time the good housewives of Broek have all turned their faces Zionward. GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. A LEGEND OF COMMUNIPAW. FOUND AMONG THE KNICKERBOCKER PAPERS AT WOLFERT S ROOST. HOEVER has visited the ancient and renowned village of Communipaw may have noticed an old stone building, of most ruinous and sinister appearance. The doors and window-shutters are ready to drop from their hinges ; old clothes are stuffed in the broken panes of glass, while legions of half-starved dogs prowl about the premises, and rush out and bark at every passer-by, for your beggarly house in a village is most apt to swarm with profligate and ill-condi- tioned dogs. What adds to the sinister appearance of this mansion is a tall frame in front, not a little resembling a gallows, and which looks as if waiting to accommodate some of the inhabitants with a well-merited airing. It is not a gallows, however, but an ancient sign-post ; for this dwelling in the golden days of Communipaw was one of the most orderly and peaceful of village taverns, where pub- lic affairs were talked and smoked over. In fact, it was in this very building that Oloffe the Dreamer and his companions concerted that great voyage of discovery and colonization in which they ex- GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. 263 plored Buttermilk Channel, were nearly ship- wrecked in the strait of Hell Gate, and finally landed on the island of Manhattan, and founded the great city of New Amsterdam. Even after the province had been cruelly M'rested from the sway of their High Mightinesses by the combined forces of the British and the Yankees, this tavern continued its ancient loyalty. It is true, the head of the Prince of Orange disap- peared from the sign, a strange bird being painted over it, with the explanatory legend of " Die Wilde Gans," or. The Wild Goose ; but this all the world knew to be a sly riddle of the landlord, the worthy Teunis Van Gieson, a knowing man, in a small way, who laid his finger beside his nose and winked, when any one studied the signification of his sign, and observed that his goose was hatch- ing, but would join the flock whenever they flew over the water ; an enigma which was the per- petual recreation and deHght of the loyal but fat- headed burghers of Communipaw. Under the sway of this patriotic, though dis- creet and quiet publican, the tavern continued to flourish in primeval tranquillity, and was the resort of true-hearted Nederlanders, from all parts of Pavonia ; who met here quietly and secretly, to smoke and drink the downfall of Briton and Yan- kee, and success to Admiral Van Tromp. The only drawback on the comfort of the es- tablishment was a nephew of mine host, a sister's son, Yan Yost Vanderscamp by name, and a real scamp by nature. This unlucky whipster showed An early propensity to mischief, which he gratified 264 GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. in a small way by playing tricks upon the fre- quenters of the Wild Goose, — putting gunpowder in their pipes, or squibs in their pockets, and as- tonishing tliem with an explosion, while they sat nodding around the fireplace in the bar-room ; and if perchance a worthy burgher from some distant part of Pavonia lingered until dark over his pota- tion, it was odds but young Yanderscamp would slip a brier under his horse's tail, as he mounted, and send him clattering along the road, in neck- or-nothing style, to the infinite astonishment and discomfiture of the rider. It may be wondered at, that mine host of the Wild Goose did not turn such a graceless varlet out of doors ; but Tenuis Van Gieson was an easy-tempered man, and, having no child of his own, looked upon his nephew with almost pa- rental indulgence. His patience and good- nature were doomed to be tried by another inmate of his mansion. This was a cross-grained curmudgeon of a negro, named Pluto, who was a kind of enig- ma in Communipaw. Where he came from, no- body knew. He was found one morning, after a storm, cast like a sea-monster on the strand, in front of the Wild Goose, and lay there, more dead than alive. The neighbors gathered round, and speculated on this production of the deep ; whether it were fish or flesh, or a compound of both, com- monly yclept a merman. The kind-hearted Ten- nis Van Gieson, seeing that he wore the human form, took him into his house, and warmed hira into life. By degrees, he showed signs of intelli- gence, and even uttered sounds very much like Ian- GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. 265 guage, but which no one in Coramunipaw could understand. Some thought him a negro just from Guinea, who had either fallen overboard, or es- caped from a slave-ship. Nothing, however, could ever draw from him any account of his origin. When questioned on the subject, he merely pointed to Gibbet Island, a small rocky islet which lies in the open bay, just opposite Communipaw, as if that were his native place, though everybody knew it had never been inhabited. In the process of time, he acquired something of the Dutch language ; that is to say, he learnt all its vocabulary of oaths and maledictions, with just words sufficient to string them together. " Donder en hlichsem ! " (thunder and lightning) was the gentlest of his ejaculations. For years he kept about the Wild Goose, more like one of those familiar spirits, or household goblins, we read of, than like a human being. He acknowledged allegiance to no one, but performed various domes- tic offices, when it suited his humor ; waiting oc- casionally on the guests, grooming the horses, cut- ting wood, drawing water ; and all this without being ordered. Lay any command on him, and the stubborn sea-urchin was sure to rebel. He was never so much at home, however, as when on the water, plying about in skiff or canoe, entirely alone, fishing, crabbing, or grabbing for oysters, and would bring home quantities for the larder of the Wild Goose, which he would throw down at the kitchen - door, with a growl. No wind nor weather deterred him from launching forth on his favorite element : indeed, the wilder the weather, 266 GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. the more he seemed to enjoy it. If a storm was brewing, he was sure to put off from shore ; and would be seen far out in the bay, his light skiff dancing like a feather on the waves, when sea and sky were in a turmoil, and the stoutest ships were fain to lower their sails. Sometimes on such oc- casions he would be absent for days together. How he weathered the tempest, and how and where he subsisted, no one could divine, nor did any one venture to ask, for all had an almost su- perstitious awe of him. Some of the Communi- paw oystermen declared they had more than once seen him suddenly disappear, canoe and all, as if plunged beneath the waves, and after a while come up again, in quite a different part of the bay ; whence they concluded that he could live under water like that notable species of wild duck com- monly called the hell-diver. All began to con- sider him in the light of a foul-weather bird, like the Mother Carey's chicken, or stormy petrel ; and whenever they saw him putting far out in his skiff, in cloudy weather, made up their minds for a storm. The only being for whom he seemed to have any liking was Yan Yost Vanderscamp, and him he liked for his very wickedness. He in a man- ner took the boy under his tutelage, prompted him to all kinds of mischief, aided him in every wild harum-scarum freak, until the lad became the com- plete scapegrace of the village, a pest to his uncle and to every one else. Nor were his pranks con- fined to the land ; he soon learned to accompany old Pluto on the water. Together these worthies would cruise about the broad bay, and all the GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. 267 neighboring straits and rivers ; poking around in skiffs and canoes ; robbing the set nets of the fish- ermen ; landing on remote coasts, and hiying waste orchards and water-melon patches ; in short, car- rying on a complete system of piracy, on a small scale. Piloted by Pluto, the youthful Vander- scamp soon became acquainted with all the bays, rivers, creeks, and inlets of the watery world around him ; could navigate from the Hook to Spiting Devil on the darkest night, and learned to set even the terrors of Hell Gate at defiance. At length negro and boy suddenly disappeared, and days and weeks elapsed, but without tidings of them. Some said they must have run away and gone to sea ; others jocosely hinted that old Pluto, being no other than his namesake in dis- guise, had spirited away the boy to the nether re- gions. All, however, agreed in one thing, that the village was well rid of them. In the process of time, the good Tennis Van Gleson slept with his fathers, and the tavern remained shut up. Availing for a claimant, for the next heir was Yan Yost Vanderscamp, and he had not been heard of for years. At length, one day, a boat was seen pulling for shore, from a long, black, rakish-looking schooner, that lay at anchor in the bay. The boat's crew seemed wor- thy of the craft from which they debarked. Never had such a set of noisy, roistering, swaggering varlets landed in peaceful Communipaw. They were outlandish in garb and demeanor, and were headed by a rough, burly, bully rufiian, with fiery wliiskers. a copper nose, a scar across his face, 268 GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. and a great Flaunderish beaver slouched on one side of his head, in whom, to their dismay, the quiet inhabitants were made to recognize their early pest, Yan Yost Vanderscamp. The rear of this hopeful gang was brought up by old Pluto, who had lost an eye, grown grizzly-headed, and looked more like a devil than ever. Vander- scamp renewed his acquaintance with the old burghers, much against their will, and in a man- ner not at all to their taste. He slapped them familiarly on the back, gave them an iron grip of the hand, and was hail-fellow-well-met. Ac- cording to his own account, he had been all the world over, had made money by bags full, had ships in every sea, and now meant to turn the Wild Goose into a country-seat, where he and his comrades, all rich merchants from foreign parts, might enjoy themselves in the interval of their voyages. Sure enough, in a little while there was a com- plete metamorphose of the Wild Goose. From being a quiet, peaceful Dutch public house, it be- came a most riotous, uproarious private dwelling ; a complete rendezvous for boisterous men of the seas, who came here to have what they called a " blow-out " on dry land, and might be seen at all hours, lounging about the door, or lolling out of the windows, swearing among themselves, and cracking rough jokes on every passer-by. The house was fitted up, too, in so strange a manner : hammocks slung to the walls, instead of bedsteads ; odd kinds of furniture, of foreign fashion ; bam- boo couches, Spanish chairs ; pistols, cutlasses, guilSTS from gibbet island. 269 and blunderbusses, suspended on every peg ; sil ver crucifixes on the mantel-pieces, silver candle- sticks and porringers on the tables, contrasting oddly with the pewter and Delf ware of the original establishment. And then the strange amusements of these sea-monsters ! Pitching Spanish dollars, instead of quoits ; firing blunder- busses out of the window ; shooting at a mark, or at any unhappy dog, or cat, or pig, or barn-door fowl, that might happen to come within reach. The only being who seemed to relish their rough waggery was old Pluto ; and yet he led but a dog's life of it, for they practised all kinds of manual jokes upon him, kicked him about like a foot-ball, shook him by his grizzly mop of wool, and never spoke to him without coupling a curse, by way of adjective, to his name, and consigning him to the infernal regions. The old fellow, however, seemed to like them the better the more they cursed him, though his utmost expression of pleasure never amounted to more than the growl of a petted bear, when his eai^ are rubbed. Old Pluto was the ministering spirit at the orgies of the Wild Goose ; and such oro^ies as took place there ! Such drinking, singing, whoop- ing, swearing; with an occasional interlude of quarrelling and fighting. The noisier grew the revel, the more old Pluto plied the potations, until the guests would become frantic in their merriment, smashing everything to pieces, and throwing the house out of the windows. Some- times, after a drinking bout, they sallied forth and scoured the village, to the dismay of the worthy 270 GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. burghers, who gathered their women within doors, and would have shut up the house. Vanderscarap, however, was not to be rebuffed. He insisted on renewing acquaintance with his old neighbors, and on introducing his friends, the merchants, to their families ; swore he v/as on the lookout for a wife, and meant, before he stopped, to find husbands for all their daughters. So, will-ye, nill-ye, socia- ble he was ; swaggei'ed about their best parlors, with his hat on one side of his head ; sat on the good-wife's nicely waxed mahogany table, kicking his heels against the carved and polished legs ; kissed and tousled the young vroios ; and, if they frowned and pouted, gave them a gold rosary, or a sparkling cross, to put them in good- humor again. Sometimes nothing would satisfy him, but he must have some of his old neighbors to dinner at the Wild Goose. There was no refusing him, for he had the complete upper hand of the com- munity, and the peaceful burghers all stood in awe of him. But what a time would the quiet, worthy men have, among these rake-hells, who would delight to astound them with the most ex- travagant gunpowder tales, embroidered with all kinds of foreign oaths, clink the can with them, pledge them in deep potations, bawl drinking- songs in their ears, and occasionally fire pistols over their heads, or under the table, and then laugh in their faces, and ask them how they liked the smell of gunpowder. Thus was the little village of Communipaw for a time like the unfortunate wight possessed GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. 271 with devils ; until Vanderscamp and his brother- merchants would sail on another trading voyage, when the Wild Goose would be shut up, and everything relapse into quiet, only to be disturbed by his next visitation. The mystery of all these proceedings gradually dawned upon the tardy intellects of Communipaw. These were the times of the notorious Captain Kidd, when the American harbors were the resorts of piratical adventurers of all kinds, who, under pretext of mercantile voyages, scoured the West Indies, made plundering descents upon the Span- ish Main, visited even the remote Indian Seas, and then came to dispose of their booty, have their revels, and fit out new expeditions in the English colonies. Vanderscamp had served in this hopeful school, and, having risen to importance among the buc- caneers, had pitched upon his native village and early home, as a quiet, out-of-the-way, unsuspected place, where he and his comrades, while anchored at New York, might have their feasts, and concert their plans, without molestation. At length the attention of the British govern- ment was called to these piratical enterprises, that were becoming so frequent and outrageous. Vig- orous measures were taken to check and punish them. Several of the most noted freebooters were caught and executed, and three of Vander- scamp's chosen comrades, the most riotous swash- bucklers of the Wild Goose, were hanged in chains on Gibbet Island, in full sight of their favorite resort. As to Vanderscamp himself, he 272 GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. and his man Pluto again disappeared, and it was hoped by the people of Communipaw that he had fallen in some foreign brawl, or been swung on some foreign gallows. For a time, therefore, the tranquillity of the village was restored ; the worthy Dutchmen once more smoked their pipes in peace, eyeing with peculiar complacency their old pests and terrors, the pirates, dangling and drying in the sun, on Gibbet Island. This perfect calm was doomed at length to be ruffled. The fiery persecution of the pirates grad- ually subsided. Justice was satisfied with the ex- amples that had been made, and there was no more talk of Kidd, and the other heroes of like kidney. On a calm summer evening, a boat, somewhat heavily laden, was seen pulling into Communipaw. What was the surprise and dis- quiet of the inhabitants to see Yan Yost Yander- scamp seated at the helm, and his man Pluto tugging at the oar ! Yanderscamp, however, was apparently an altered man. He brought home with him a wife, who seemed to be a shrew, and to have the upper hand of him. He no longer was the swaggering, bully ruffian, but affected the regular merchant, and talked of retiring from business, and settling down quietly, to pass the rest of his days in his native place. The Wild Goose mansion was again opened, but with diminished splendor, and no riot. It is true, Yanderscamp had frequent nautical visitors, and the sound of revelry was occasionally over- heard in his house ; but everything seemed to be GUESrS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. 273 done under the rose, and old Pluto was the only servant that officiated at these orgies. The visit- ors, indeed, were by no means of the turbulent stamp of their predecessors ; but quiet, mysterious traders, full of nods, and winks, and hieroglyphic sig'iis, with whom, to use their cant phrase, " every- thing was smug." Their ships came to anchor at night, in the lower bay ; and, on a private signal, Vanderscamp would launch his boat, and accom- panied solely by his man Pluto, would make them mysterious visits. Sometimes boats pulled in at night, in front of the Wild Goose, and various articles of merchandise were landed in the dark, and spirited away, nobody knew whither. One of the more curious of the inhabitants kept watch, and caught a glimpse of the features of some of these night visitors, by the casual glance of a lan- tern, and declared that he recognized more than one of the freebooting frequenters of the Wild Goose, in former times ; whence he concluded that Vanderscamp was at his old game, and that this mysterious merchandise was nothing more nor less than piratical plunder. The more charitable opinion, however, was, that Vanderscamp and his comrades, having been driven from their old line of business by the " oppressions of govern- ment," had resorted to smuggling to make both ends meet. Be that as it may, I come now to the extraor- dinary fact which is the butt-end of this story. It happened, late one night, that Yan Yost Vander- scamp was returning across the broad bay, in his light skiff, rowed by his man Pluto. He had 18 274 GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. been carousing on board of a vessel, newly ar- rived, and was somewhat obfuscated in intellect, by the liquor he had imbibed. It was a still, sultry night ; a heavy mass of lurid clouds was rising in the west, with the low muttering of dis- tant thunder. Vanderscamp called on Pluto to pull lustily, that they might get home before the gathering storm. The old negro made no reply, but shaped his course so as to skirt the rocky shores of Gibbet Island. A faint creaking over- head caused Vanderscamp to cast up his eyes, when, to his horror, he beheld the bodies of his three pot companions and brothers in iniquity dangling in the moonlight, their rags fluttering, and their chains creaking, as they were slowly swung backward and forward by the rising breeze. " What do you mean, you blockhead ! " cried Vanderscamp, " by pulling so close to the island ? " " I thought you 'd be glad to see your old friends once more," growled the negro ; " you were never afraid of a living man, what do you fear from the dead ? " " Who 's afraid ? " hiccoughed Vanderscamp, partly heated by liquor, partly nettled by the jeer of the negro ; " who 's afraid ? Hang me, but I would be glad to see them once more, alive or dead, at the Wild Goose. Come, my lads in the wind ! " continued he, taking a draught, and flourishing the bottle above his head, " here 's fair weather to you in the other world ; and if you should be walking the rounds to-night, odds fish ! but I '11 be happy if you will drop in to supper." GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. 275 A dismal creaking was the only reply. The wind blew loud and shrill, and as it whistled round the gallows, and among the bones, sounded as if they were laughing and gibbering in the air. Old Pluto chuckled to himself, and now pulled for home. The storm burst over the voy- agers, while they were yet far from shore. The rain fell in torrents, the thunder crashed and pealed, and the lightning kept up an incessant blaze. It was stark midnight before they landed at Communipaw. Dripping and shivering, Vanderscamp crawled homeward. He was completely sobered by the storm, the water soaked from without having diluted and cooled the liquor within. Arrived at the Wild Goose, he knocked timidly and du- biously at the door ; for he dreaded the reception he was to experience from his wife. He had reason to do so. She met him at the threshold, in a precious ill-humor. " Is this a time," said she, " to keep people out of their beds, and to bring home company, to turn the house upside down ? " " Company ? " said Vanderscamp, meekly ; " I have brought no company with me, wife." " No, indeed ! they have got here before you, but by your invitation ; and blessed-looking com- pany they are, truly ! " Vanderscamp's knees smote together. " For the love of heaven, where are they, wife ? " " Where ? — why in the blue room, up-stairs, making themselves as much at home as if the house were their own." 276 GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. Vanderscamp made a desperate effort, scram bled up to the room, and threw open the door Sure enough, there at a table, on which burned a b'ght as blue as brimstone, sat the three guests from Gibbet Island, with halters round their necks, and bobbing their cups together, as if they were hob-or-nobbing, and trolling the old Dutch free- booter's glee, since translated into English : — " For three merry lads be we, And three merry lads be we; I on the land, ^nd thou on the sand, And Jack on the gallows-tree." Vanderscamp saw and heard no more. Start- ing back with horror, he missed his footing on the landing-place, and fell from the top of the stairs to the bottom. He was taken up speechless, and, either from the fall or the fright, was buried in the yard of the little Dutch church at Bergen, on the following Sunday. From that day forward the fate of the Wild Goose was sealed. It was pronounced a haunted house, and avoided accordingly. No one inhab- ited it but Vanderscamp's shrew of a widow and old Pluto, and they were considered but little better than its hobgoblin visitors. Pluto grew more and more haggard and morose, and looked more like an imp of darkness than a human being. He spoke to no one, but went about mut- tering to himself; or, as some hinted, talking with the devil, who, though unseen, was ever at his elbow. Now and then he was seen pulling about the bay alone in his skiff, in dark weather, or at the approach of nightfall ; nobody could tell why, GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. 277 unless on an errand to invite more guests from the gallows. Indeed, it was affirmed that the Wild Goose still continued to be a house of enter- tainment for such guests, and that on stormy nights the blue chamber was occasionally illumi- nated, and sounds of diabolical merriment were overheard, minglinoj with the howlinoj of the tem- pest. Some treated these as idle stories, until on one such night, it was about the time of the equinox, there was a horrible uproar in the Wild Goose, that could not be mistaken. It was not so much the sound of revelry, however, as strife, with two or three piercing shrieks, that pervaded every part of the village. Nevertheless, no one thought of hastening to the spot. On the con- trary, the honest burghers of Communipaw drew their nightcaps over their ears, and buried their heads under the bedclothes, at the thoughts of Vanderscamp and his gallows companions. The next morning, some of the bolder and more curious undertook to reconnoitre. All was quiet and lifeless at the Wild Goose. The door yawned wide open, and had evidently been open all night, for the storm had beaten into the house. Gathering more courage from the silence and ap- parent desertion, they gradually ventured over the threshold. The house had indeed the air of having been possessed by devils. Everything was topsy-turvy ; trunks had been broken open, and chests of drawers and corner cupboards turned inside out, as in a time of general sack and pillage ; but the most woful sight was the widow of Yan Yost Vanderscamp, extended a 278 GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND. corpse on the floor of the blue chamber, with the marks of a deadly gripe on the windpipe. All now was conjecture and dismay at Com- munipaw ; and the disappearance of old Pluto, who was nowhere to be found, gave rise to all kinds of wild surmises. Some suggested that the negro had betrayed the house to some of Vanderscamp's buccaneering associates, and that they had decamped together with the booty ; others surmised that the negro was nothing more nor less than a devil incarnate, who had now ac- complished his ends, and made off with his dues. Events, however, vindicated the negro from this last imputation. His skiff was picked up, drifting about the bay, bottom upward, as if wrecked in a tempest ; and his body was found, shortly afterward, by some Communipaw fisher- men, stranded among the rocks of Gibbet Island, near the foot of the pirates' gallows. The fisher- men shook their heads, and observed that old Pluto had ventured once too often to invite Guests from Gibbet Island. THE EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. NOTED DOWN FROM HIS CONVERSATIONS : BY GEOFFREY CRAYON, GENT.* AM a Kentuckian by residence and choice, but a Virginian by birth. The cause of my first leaving the 'Ancient Dominion,' and emigrating to Kentucky, was a jackass ! You stare, but have a little patience, and I '11 soon show you how it came to pass. My father, who was one of the old Virginian families, resided in Richmond. He was a wid- ower, and his domestic affairs were managed by a housekeeper of the old school, such as used to administer the concerns of opulent Virginian households. She was a dignitary that almost rivalled my father in importance, and seemed to think everything belonged to her ; in fact, she was * Ralph Ringwood, though a fictitious name, is a real per- sonage, — the late Governor Duval of Florida. I have given some anecdotes of his early and eccentric career, in, as nearly as I can recollect, the very words in which he related them. They certainly afibrd strong temptations to the embellish- ments of tiction ; but 1 thought them so strikingly character- istic of the individual, and of the scenes and society into which his peculiar humors carried him, that I preferred giv- ing them in their original simplicity 280 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. BO considerate in her economy, and so careful of expense, as sometimes to vex my father, who would swear she was disgracing him by her meanness. She always appeared with that an- cient insignia of housekeeping trust and author- ity, a great bunch of keys jingling at her girdle. She superintended the arrangements of the table at every meal, and saw that the dishes were all placed according to her primitive notions of sym- metry. In the evening she took her stand and served out tea with a mingled respectfulness and pride of station truly exemplary. Her great am- bition was to have everything in order, and that the establishment under her sway should be cited as a model of good housekeeping. If anything went wrong, poor old Barbara would take it to heart, and sit in her room and cry, until a few chapters in the Bible would quiet her spirits, and make all calm again. The Bible, in fact, was her constant resort in time of trouble. She opened it indiscriminately, and whether she chanced among the Lamentations of Jeremiah, the Canti- cles of Solomon, or the rough enumeration of the tribes in Deuteronomy, a chapter was a chapter, and operated like balm to her soul. Such was our good old housekeeper Barbara ; who was des- tined, unwittingly, to have a most important effect upon my destiny. " It came to pass, during the days of my juve- nility, while I was yet what is termed ' an un- lucky boy,' that a gentleman of our neighborhood, a great advocate for experiments and improve- ments of all kinds, took it into his head that it EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 281 would be an immense public advantage to intro- duce a breed of mules, and accordingly imported three jacks to stock the neighborhood. This in a part of the country where the people cared for nothing but blood horses ! Why, sir, they would have considered their mares disgraced, and their whole stud dishonored, by such a misalliance. The whole matter was a town-talk, and a town- scandal. The worthy amalgamator of quadru- peds found himself in a dismal scrape ; so he backed out in time, abjured the whole doctrine of amalgamation, and turned his jacks loose to shift for themselves upon the town common. There they used to run about and lead an idle, good-for-nothing, holiday life, the happiest animals in the country. " It so happened that my way to school lay across the common. The first time that I saw one of these animals, it set up a braying and frightened me confoundedly. However, I soon got over my fright, and seeing that it had something of a horse look, my Virginian love for anything of the eques- trian species predominated, and I determined to back it. I accordingly applied at a grocer's shop, procured a cord that had been round a loaf of sugar, and made a kind of halter ; then, summon- ing some of my school-fellows, we drove master Jack about the common until we hemmed him in an angle of a ' worm - fence.' After some diffi- culty, we fixed the halter round his muzzle, and I mounted. Up flew his heels, away I went over his head, and off he scampered. However, I was on my legs in a twinkling, gave chase, caught him, 282 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. and remounted. By dint of repeated tumbles I soon learned to stick to his back, so that he could no more cast me than he could his own skin. From that time, master Jack and his companions had a scampering life of it, for we all rode them between school-hours, and on holiday afternoons ; and you may be sure school-boyB' nags are never permitted to suffer the grass to grow under their feet. They soon became so knowing, that they took to tlieir heels at siglit of a school-boy ; and we were generally much longer in chasing than we were in riding them. " Sunday approached, on which I projected an equestrian excursion on one of these long-eared steeds. As I knew the jacks would be in great demand on Sunday morning, I secured one over night, and conducted him home, to be ready for an early outset. But where was I to quarter him for the night ? I could not put him in the stable ; our old black groom George was as absolute in that domain as Barbara was within doors, and would have thought his stable, his horses, and him- self disgraced by the introduction of a jackass. I recollected the smoke-house, — an out-building appended to all Virginian establishments, for the smoking of hams and other kinds of meat. So I got the key, put master Jack in, locked the door, returned the key to its place, and went to bed, intending to release my prisoner at an early houi, before any of the family were awake. I was so tired, however, by the exertions I had made in catching the donkey, that I fell into a sound sleep, and the morning broke without my waking. EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 283 " Not SO with dame Barbara, the housekeeper. As usual, to use her own phrase, ' she was up be fore the crow put his shoes on,' and bustled about to get things in order for breakfast. Her first resort was to the smoke-house. Scarce had she opened the door, when master Jack, tired of his confinement, and glad to be released from dark- ness, gave a loud bray, and rushed forth. Down dropped old Barbara ; the animal trampled over her, and made off for the common. Poor Bar- bara ! She had never before seen a donkey ; and having read in the Bible that the Devil went about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he might devour, she took it for granted that this was Beelzebub himself The kitchen was soon in a hubbub ; the servants hurried to the spot. There lay old Bar- bara in fits ; as fast as she got out of one, the thoughts of the Devil came over her, and she fell into another, for the good soul was devoutly su- perstitious. " As ill luck would have it, among those at- tracted by the noise, was a little cursed fidgetty, crabbed uncle of mine ; one of those uneasy spirits that cannot rest quietly in their beds in the morn- ing, but must be up early, to bother the house- hold. He was only a kind of half-uncle, after all, for he had married my father's sister ; yet he assumed great authority on the strength of this left-handed relationship, and was a universal inter- meddler and family pest. This prying little busy- body soon ferreted out the truth of the story, and discovered, by hook and by crook, that I was at the bottom of the affair, and had locked up the 284 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. donkey in the smoke-house. He stopped to in- quire no farther, for he was one of those testy curmudgeons with whom unlucky boys are always in the wrong. Leaving old Barbara to wrestle in imagination with the Devil, he made for my bedchamber, where I still lay wrapped in rosy slumbers, little dreaming of the mischief I had done, and the storm about to break over me. " In an instant I was awakened by a shower of thwacks, and started up in wild amazement. I demanded the meaning of this attack, but re- ceived no other reply than that I had murdered the housekeeper ; while my uncle continued whack- ing away during my confusion. I seized a poker, and put myself on the defensive. I was a stout boy for my years, while my uncle was a little wif- fet of a man ; one that in Kentucky we would not call even an ' individual ; ' nothing more than a ' remote circumstance.' I soon, therefore, brought him to a parley, and learned the whole extent of the charge brought against me. I confessed to the donkey and the smoke-house, but pleaded not guilty of the murder of the housekeeper. I soon found out that old Barbara was still alive. She continued under the doctor's hands, however, for several days ; and whenever she had an ill turn, ray uncle would seek to give me another flogging. I appealed to my father, but got no redress. I was considered an ' unlucky boy,' prone to all kinds of mischief; so that prepossessions were against me, in all cases of appeal. " I felt stung to the soul at all this. I had been beaten, degraded, and treated with slighting EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 285 when I complained. I lost my usual good spirits and good-humor ; and, being out of temper with everybody, fancied everybody out of temper with me. A certain wild, roving spirit of freedom, which I believe is as inherent in me as it is in the partridge, was brought into sudden activity by the checks and restraints I suffered. ' I '11 go from home,' thought I, ' and shift for myself.' Perhaps this notion was quickened by the rage for emi- grating to Kentucky which was at that time prev- alent in Virginia. I had heard such stories of the romantic beauties of the country, of the abun- dance of game of all kinds, and of the glorious independent life of the hunters who ranged its noble forests, and lived by the rifle, that I was as much agog to get there as boys who live in sea- ports are to launch themselves among the wonders and adventures of the ocean. " After a time, old Barbara got better in mind and body, and matters were explained to her ; and she became gradually convinced that it was not the Devil she had encountered. When she heard how harshly I had been treated on her ac- count, the good old soul was extremely grieved, and spoke warmly to my father in my behalf. He had himself remarked the change in my be- havior, and thought punishment might have been carried too far. He sought, therefore, to have some conversation with me, and to soothe my feelings ; but it was too late. I frankly told him the course of mortification that I had experienced, and the fixed determination I had made to go from home. " * And where do you mean to go ? ' 28G EXPERIENCES OF RALPH EfNGWOOD. •' ' To Kentucky.' " ' To Kentucky ! Why, you know nobodj^ there.' " ' No matter ; I can soon make acquaintances.' " ' And what will you do when you get there ? ' " ' Hunt ! ' " My father gave a long, low whistle, and looked in my face with a serio-comic expression. I was not far in my teens, and to talk of setting off alone for Kentucky, to turn hunter, seemed doubtless the idle prattle of a boy. He was little aware of the dogged resolution of my character ; and his smile of incredulity but fixed me more obstinately in my purpose. I assured him I was serious in what I said, and would certainly set off for Ken- tucky in the spring. " Month after month passed away. My father now and then adverted slightly to what had passed between us ; doubtless for the purpose of sound- ing me. I always expressed the same grave and fixed determination. By degrees he spoke to me more directly on the subject, endeavoring ear- nestly but kindly to dissuade me. My only reply was, ' I had made up my mind.' " Accordingly, as soon as the spring had fairly opened, I sought him one day in his study, and informed him I was about to set out for Kentucky, and had come to take my leave. He made no objection, for he had exhausted persuasion and remonstrance, and doubtless thought it best to give way to my humor, trusting that a little rough experience would soon bring me home again. I asked money for my journey. He went to a EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 287 chest, took out a long green silk purse, well filled, and laid it on the table. I now asked for a horse and servant. " ' A horse ! ' said my father, sneeringly, ' why you would not go a mile without racing hira, and breaking your neck ; and as to a servant, you can- not take care of yourself, much less of him.' " ' How am I to travel, then ? ' '• ' Why, I suppose you are man enough to travel on foot.' " He spoke jestingly, little thinking I would take him at his word ; but I was thoroughly piqued in respect to my enterprise ; so I pocketed the purse, went to my room, tied up three or four shirts in a pocket-handkerchief, put a dirk in my bosom, girt a couple of pistols round my waist, and felt like a knight-errant armed cap-a-pie, and ready to rove the world in quest of adventures. " My sister (I had but one) hung round me and wept, and entreated me to stay. I felt my heart swell in my throat ; but I gulped it back to its place, and straightened myself up : I would not suffer myself to cry. I at length disengaged myself fi-om her, and got to the door. " ' When will you come back ? ' cried she. " ' Never, by heavens ! ' cried I, ' until I come back a member of Congress from Kentucky. I am determined to show that I am not the tail-end of the family.' " Such was my first outset from home. You may suppose what a greenhorn I was, and how little I knew of the world I was launching into. " I do not recollect any incident of importance, 288 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. until I reached the borders of Pennsylvania. I had stopped at an inn to get some refreshment ; as I was eating in a back-room, I overheard two men in the bar-room conjecture who and what I could be. One determined, at length, that I was a runaway apprentice, and ought to be stopped, to which the other assented. When I had finished my meal, and paid for it, I went out at the back- door, lest I should be stopped by my supervisors. Scorning, however, to steal off like a culprit, I walked round to the front of the house. One of the men advanced to the front-door. He wore his hat on one side, and had a consequential air that nettled me. " ' Where are you going, youngster ? ' demanded he. " ' That 's none of your business ! ' replied I, rather pertly. " ' Yes, but it is though ! You have run away from home, and must give an account of yourself.' " He advanced to seize me, when I drew forth a pistol. ' If you advance another step, I '11 shoot you!' " He sprang back as if he had trodden upon a rattlesnake, and his hat fell off in the movement. " ' Let him alone ! ' cried his companion ; ' he 's a foolish, mad-headed boy, and don't know what he 's about. He '11 shoot you, you may rely on it.' " He did not need any caution in the matter ; he was afraid even to pick up his hat ; so I pushed forward on my way without molestation. This incident, however, had its effect upon me. I became fearful of sleeping in any house at night, EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 289 lest I should he stopped. I took my meals in the houses, in the course of the day, but would turn aside at night into some wood or ravine, make a fire, and sleep before it. This I considered was true hunter's style,' and I wished to inure myself to it. "• At length I arrived at Brownsville, leg- weary and wayworn, and in a shabby plight, as you may suppose, having been ' camping out ' for some nights past. I applied at some of the inferior inns, but conld gain no admission. I was regarded for a moment with a dubious eye, and then in- formed they did not receive foot-passengers. At last I went boldly to the principal inn. The landlord appeared as unwilling as the rest to receive a vagrant boy beneath his roof; but his wife interfered in the midst of his excuses, and, half elbowing him aside, — " ' Where are you going, my lad ? ' said she. " ' To Kentucky.' " ' What are you going there for ? ' « ' To hunt.' " She looked earnestly at me for a moment or two. ' Have you a mother living ? ' said she at length. " ' No, madam ; she has been dead for some time.' " ' I thought so ! ' cried she, warmly. ' I knew if you had a mother living, you would not be here.' From that moment the good woman treated me with a mother's kindness. I remained several days beneath her roof, re- covering from the fatigue of my journey. While 19 290 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. here, I purchased a rifle, and practised daily at a mark, to prepare myself for a hunter's life. When sufficiently recruited in strength, I took leave of my kind host and hostess, and resumed my journey. " At Wheeling I embarked in a flat-bottomed family boat, technically called a broad-horn, a prime river conveyance in those days. In this ark for two weeks I floated down the Ohio. The river was as yet in all its wild beauty. Its lofti- est trees had not been thinned out. The forest overhung the water's edge, and was occasionally skirted by immense canebrakes. Wild animals of all kinds abounded. We heard them rushing through the tickets and plashing in the water. Deer and bears would frequently swim across the river ; others would come down to the bank, and gaze at the boat as it passed. I was incessantly on the alert with my rifle ; but, somehow or other, the game was never within shot. Sometimes I got a chance to land and try my skill on shore. I shot squirrels, and small birds, and even wild turkeys : but though I caught glimpses of deer bounding away through the woods, I never could get a fair shot at them. " In this way we glided in our broad-horn past Cincinnati, the ' Queen of the West,' as she is now called, then a mere group of log-cabins ; and the site of the bustling city of Louisville, then designated by a solitary house. As I said before, the Ohio was as yet a wild river ; all was forest, forest, forest ! Near the confluence of Green River with the Ohio I landed, bade adieu EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 291 to the broad-horn, and struck for the interior of Kentucky. I had no precise plan ; my only idea was to make for one of the wildest parts of the country. I had relatives in Lexington and other settled places, to whom I thought it probable my father would write concerning me ; so, as I was full of manhood and independence, and resolutely bent on making my way in the world without assistance or control, I resolved to keep clear of them all. " In the course of ray first day's trudge I shot a wild turkey, and slung it on my back for pro- visions. The forest was open and clear from un- derwood. I saw deer in abundance, but always running, running. It seemed to me as if these animals never stood still. " At length I came to where a gang of half- starved wolves were feasting on the carcass of a deer which they had run down, and snarling and snapping, and fighting like so many dogs. They were all so ravenous and intent upon their prey that they did not notice me, and I had time to make my observations. One, larger and fiercer than the rest, seemed to claim the larger share, and to keep the others in awe. If any one came too near him while eating, he M^ould fly off, seize and shake him, and then return to his repast. ' This,' thought I, ' must be the captain ; if I can kill him, I shall defeat the whole army.' I accordingly took aim, fired, and down dropped the old fellow. He might be only shamming dead ; so I loaded and put a second ball through him. He never budged ; all the rest ran off, and my victory was complete. 292 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. " It would not be easy to describe my tri- umphant feelings on this great achievement. I marched on with renovated spirit, regarding my- self as absolute lord of the forest. As night drew near, I prepared for camping. My first care was to collect dry wood and make a roaring fire to cook and sleep by, and to frighten off wolves, and bears, and panthers. I then began to pluck my turkey for supper. I had camped out several times in the early part of my expedition ; but that was in comparatively more settled and civilized regions, where there were no wild animals of con- sequence in the forest. This was my first camp- ing out in the real wilderness, and I was soon made sensible of tlie loneliness and wildness of my situation. " In a little while a concert of Avolves com- menced ; there might have been a dozen or two, but it seemed to me as if there were thousands. I never heard such howling and whining. Hav- ing prepared my turkey, I divided it into two parts, thrust two sticks into one of the halves, and planted them on end before the fire, — the hunt- er's mode of roasting. The smell of roast meat quickened the appetites of the wolves, and their concert became truly infernal. They seemed to be all around me, but I could only now and then get a glimpse of one of them, as he came within the glare of the light. " I did not much care for the wolves, who I knew to be a cowardly race, but I had heard ter- rible stories of panthers, and began to fear their stealthy prowlings in the surrounding darkness. EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WO OB. 203 I was thirsty, and heard a brook bubbling and tinkling along at no great distance, but absolutely dared not go there, lest some panther might lie in wait and spring upon me. By and by a deer whistled. I had never heard one before, and thought it must be a panther. I now felt uneasy lest he might climb the trees, crawl along the branches overhead, and plump down upon me ; so I kept my eyes fixed oc the branches, until my head ached. I more than once thought I saw fiery eyes glaring down from among the leaves. At length I thought of my supper, and turned to see if my half turkey was cooked. In crowding so near the fire, I had pressed the meat into the fiames, and it was consumed. I had nothing to do but toast the other half, and take better care of it. On that half I made my supper, without salt or bread. I was still so possessed with the dread of panthers, that I could not close my eyes all night, but lay watching the trees until day- break, when all my fears were dispelled with the darkness ; and as I saw the morning sun sparkling down through the branches of the trees, I smiled to think how I suffered myself to be dismayed by sounds and shadows ; but I was a young woods- man, and a stranger in Kentucky. " Having breakfasted on tlie remainder of my turkey and slacked my thirst at the bubbling stream, without farther dread of panthers, I re- sumed my wayfaring with buoyant feelings. I again saw deer, but, as usual, running, running I I tried in vain to get a shot at them, and began to fear I never should. I was gazing with vex- 294 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. ation after a herd in full scamper, when I was startled by a human voice. Turning round, I saw a man at a short distance from me in a hunt- ing-dress. " ' What are you after, my lad ? ' cried he. " ' Those deer, ' replied I, pettishly ; ' but it seems as if they never stand still.' " Upon that he burst out laughing. ' Where are you from ? ' said he. " ' From Richmond.' « ' What ! In old Virginny ? ' " ' The same.' " ' And how on earth did you get here ? ' " ' I landed at Green River from a broad- horn.' " 'And where are your companions ? ' " ' I have none.' « ' What ? — all alone ! ' « ' Yes.' " ' Where are you going ? ' " ' Anywhere.' " ' And what have you come here for ? ' « ' To hunt.' " ' Well,' said he, laughingly, ' you '11 make a real hunter ; there 's no mistaking that ! " ' Have you killed anything ? ' " ' Nothing but a turkey ; I can't get within shot of a deer ; they are always running.' " ' Oh, I '11 tell you the secret of that. You 're always pushing forward, and starting the deer at a distance, and gazing at those that are scamper- ing ; but you must step as slow and silent and cautious as a cat, and keep your eyes close around EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 295 you, and lurk from tree to tree, if you wish to get a chance at deer. But come, go home with me. My name is Bill Smithers ; I live not far off , stay with me a little while, and I '11 teach you how to hunt.' " I gladly accepted the invitation of honest Bill Smithers. We soon reached his habitation: a mere log-hut, with a square hole for a window, and a chimney made of sticks and clay. Here he lived, with a wife and child. He had ' girdled ' the trees for an acre or two around, preparatory to clearing a space for corn and potatoes. In the mean time he maintained his family entirely by his rifle, and I soon found him to be a first-rate huntsman. Under his tutelage I received my jfirst effective lessons in ' woodcraft.' " The more I knew of a hunter's life, the more I relished it. The country, too, which had been the promised land of my boyhood, did not, like most promised lands, disappoint me. No wilder- ness could be more beautiful than this part of Kentucky in those times. The forests were open and spacious, with noble trees, some of which looked as if they had stood for centuries. There were beautiful prairies, too, diversified with groves and clumps of trees, which looked like vast parks, and in which you could see the deer running, at a great distance. In the proper season, these prai- ries would be covered in many places with wild strawberries, where your horse's hoofs would be dyed to the fetlock. I thought there could not be another place in the world equal to Kentucky ; — and I think so still. 296 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. "After I had passed ten or twelve days with Bill Smithers, I thought it time to shift my quar- ters, for his house was scarce large enough for his own family, and I had no idea of being an encumbrance to any one. I accordingly made up my bundle, shouldered my rifle, took a friendly leave of Smithers and his wife, and set out in quest of a Nimrod of the wilderness, one John Miller, who lived alone, nearly forty miles off, and who I hoped would be well pleased to have a hunting companion. " I soon found out that one of the most impor- tant items in woodcraft, in a new country, was the skill to find one's way in the wilderness. There were no regular roads in the forests, but they were cut up and perplexed by paths leading in all directions. Some of these were made by the cattle of the settlers, and were called ' stock- tracks,' but others had been made by the immense droves of buffaloes which roamed about the coun- try from the flood until recent times. These were called buffalo-tracks, and traversed Ken- tucky from end to end, like highways. Traces of them may still be seen in uncultivated parts, or deeply worn in the rocks where they crossed the mountahis. I was a young woodsman, and sorely puzzled to distinguish one kind of track from the other, or to make out my course through this tangled labyrinth. While thus perplexed, I heard a distant roaring and rushing sound ; a gloom stole over the forest. On looking up, when I could catch a stray glimpse of the sky, I beheld the clouds rolled up like balls, the lower part as EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 297 black as ink. There was now and then an ex- plosion, like a burst of cannonry afar off, and the crash of a falling tree. I had heard of hurri- canes in the woods, and surmised that one was at hand. It soon came crashing its way, the forest writhing, and twisting, and groaning before it. The hurricane did not extend for on either side, but in a manner ploughed a furrow through the woodland, snapping off or uprooting trees that had stood for centuries, and filling the air with whirling branches. I was directly in its course, and took my stand behind an immense poplar, six feet in diameter. It bore for a time the full fury of the blast, but at length began to yield. Seeing it falling, I scrambled nimbly round the trunk like a squirrel. Down it went, bearing down another tree with it. I crept vinder the trunk as a shelter, and was protected from other trees which fell around me, but was sore all over, from the twigs and branches driven against me by the blast. " This was the only incident of consequence that occurred on my way to John Miller's, where I arrived on the following day, and was received by the veteran with the rough kindness of a back- woodsman. He was a grayhaired man, hardy and weather-beaten, with a blue wart, like a great bead, over one eye, whence he was nicknamed by the hunters, ' Blue-bead Miller.' He had been in these parts from tlie earliest settlements, and had signalized himself in the hard conflicts with the Indians, which gained Kentucky the appella- tion of ' the Bloody Ground.' In one of these 298 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. fights he had had an arm broken ; in another he had narrowly escaped, when hotly pursued, by jumping from a precipice thirty feet high into a river. "Miller willingly received me into his house as an inmate, and seemed pleased with the idea of makino; a hunter of me. His dwelling was a small log- house, with a loft or garret of boards, so that there was ample room for both of us. tJnder his instruction, I soon made a tolerable proficiency in hunting. My first exploit of any consequence was killing a bear. I was hunting in company with two brothers, when we came upon the track of Bruin, in a wood where there w^as an undergrowth of canes and grape-vines. He was scrambling up a tree, when I shot him through the breast ; he fell to the ground, and lay motionless. The brothers sent in their dog, who seized the bear by the throat. Bruin raised one arm, and gave the dog a hug that crushed his ribs. One yell, and all was over. I don't know which was first dead, the dog or the bear. The two brothers sat down and cried like children over their unfortunate dog. Yet they were mere rough huntsmen, almost as wild and untamable as Indians ; but they were fine fellows. " By degrees I became known, and somewhat of a favorite amonf>: the hunters of the neio^hbor- hood ; that is to say, men who lived within a ch*- cle of thirty or forty miles, and came occasionally to see John Miller, who was a patriarch among them. They lived widely apart, in log-huts and wigwams, almost with the simplicity of Indians, EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 299 and wellnigh as destitute of the comforts and inventions of civilized life. They seldom saw each other ; weeks, and even months would elapse, without their visiting. When they did meet, it was very much after the manner of Indians ; loitering about all day, without having much to say, but becoming communicative as evening ad- vanced, and sitting up half the night before the fire, telling hunting-stories, and terrible tales of the fights of the Bloody Ground. " Sometimes several would join in a distant hunting expedition, or rather campaign. Expe- ditions of this kind lasted from November until April,. during which we laid up our stock of sum- mer provisions. We shifted our hunting-camps from place to place, according as we found the game. They were generally pitched near a run of water, and close by a canebrake, to screen us from the wind. One side of our lodge was open towards the fire. Our horses were hoppled and turned loose in the canebrakes, with bells round their necks. One of the party stayed at home to watch the camp, prepare the meals, and keep off the wolves ; the others hunted. When a hunter killed a deer at a distance from the camp, he would open it and take out the entrails; then, climbing a sappling, he would bend it down, tie the deer to the top, and let it spring up again, so as to suspend the carcass out of reach of the wolves. At night he would return to the camp, and give an account of his luck. The next morn- ing early he would get a horse out of the cane- brake and bring home his game. That day he 300 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. would stay at home to cut up the carcass, while the others hunted. " Our days were thus spent in silent and lonely occupations. It was only at night that we would gather together before the fire, and be sociable. I was a novice, and used to listen with open eyes and ears to the strange and wild stories told by the old hunters, and believed everything I heard. Some of their stories bordered upon the super- natural. They believed that their rifles might be spellbound, so as not to be able to kill a buffalo, even a'^ arm's length. This superstition they had d-erived from the Indians, who often think the white hunters have laid a spell upon their rifles. Miller partook of this superstition, and used to fell of his rifle's having a spell upon it; but it often seemed to me to be a shuffling way of ac- counting for a bad shot. If a hunter grossly missed his aim, he would ask, ' Who shot last with his rifle ? ' — and hint that he must have charmed it. The sure mode to disenchant the gun was to shoot a silver bullet out of it. " By the opening of spring we would generally have quantities of bear's meat and venison salted, dried, and smoked, and numerous packs of skins. We would then make the best of our way home from our distant hunting-grounds, transporting our spoils, sometimes in canoes along the rivers, sometimes on horseback over land, and our return would often be celebrated by feasting and dancing, in true backwoods style. I have given you some idea of our hunting ; let me now give you a sketch of our frolickins:. EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 301 " It was on our return from a winter's hunting in the neighborhood of Green River, when we received notice that there was to be a grand frolic at Bob Mosely's, to greet the hunters. This Bob Mosely was a prime fellow throughout the coun- try. He was an indifferent hunter, it is true, and rather lazy, to boot ; but then he could play the fiddle, and that was enough to make him of con- sequence. There was no other man within a hundred miles that could play the fiddle, so there was no having a regular frolic without Bob Mosely. The hunters, therefore, were always ready to give him a share of their game in ex- change for his music, and Bob was always ready to get up a carousal whenever there was a party returning from a hunting expedition. The present frolic was to take place at Bob Mosely's own house, which was on the Pigeon-Roost Fork of the Muddy, which is a branch of Rough Creek, which is a branch of Green River. " Everybody was agog for the revel at Bob Mosely's ; and as all the fashion of the neighbor- hood was to be there, I thought I must brush up for the occasion. My leathern hunting-dress, which was the only one I had, was somewhat the worse for wear, it is true, and considerably japanned with blood and grease ; but I was up to hunting expedients. Getting into a periogue, I paddled off to a part of the Green River where there was sand and clay, that might serve for soap ; then, taking off my dress, I scrubbed and scoured it, until I thought it looked very well. I then put it on the end of a stick, and hung it 302 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. out of the periogue to dry, while I stretched myself very comfortably on the green bank of the river. Unluckily a flaw struck the periogue, and tipped over the stick ; down went my dress to the bottom of the river, and I never saw it more. Here was I, left almost in a state of nature. I managed to make a kind of Robinson Crusoe garb of undressed skins, with the hair on, which enabled me to get home with decency ; but my dream of gayety and fashion was at an end ; for how could I think of figuring in high life at the Pigeon-Roost, equipped like a mere Orson? "Old Miller, who really began to take some pride in me, was confounded wlien he understood that I did not intend to go to Bob Mosely's ; but when I told him my misfortune, and that I had no dress, ' By the powers,' cried he, ' but you shall go, and you shall be the best dressed and the best mounted lad there ! ' " He immediately set to work to cut out and make up a hunting-shirt, of dressed deer-skin, gayly fringed at the shoulders, and leggins of the same, fringed from hip to heel. He then made me a rakish raccoon-cap, with a flaunting tail to it, mounted me on his best horse ; and I may say, without vanity, that I was one of the smartest fellows that figured on that occasion at the Pigeon- Roost Fork of the Muddy. "It was no small occasion, either, let me tell you. Bob Mosely's house was a tolerably large })ark shanty, with a clapboard roof; and there were assembled all the young hunters and pretty EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 303 girls of the country for many a mile round. The young men were in their best hunting-dresses, but not one could compare with mine ; and my raccoon-cap, with its flowing tail, was the admira- tion of everybody. The girls were mostly in doe-skin dresses ; for there was no spinning and weaving as yet in the woods, nor any need of it. I never saw girls that seemed to me better dressed, and I was somewhat of a judge, having seen fashions at Richmond. We had a hearty dinner, and a merry one ; for there was Jemmy Kiel, ftmious for raccoon-hunting, and Bob Tarle- ton, and Wesley Pigman, and Joe Taylor, and several other prime fellows for a frolic, that made all ring again, and laughed that you might have heard them a mile. " After dinner we began dancing, and were hard at it when, about three o'clock in the after- noon, there was a new arrival — the two daugh- ters of old Simon Schultz ; two young ladies that affected fashion and late hours. Their arrival had nearly put an end to all our merriment. I must go a little round about in my story to ex- plain to you how that happened. " As old Schultz, the father, was one day look- ing in the canebrakes for his cattle, he came upon the track of horses. He knew they were none of his, and that none of his neighbors had horses about that place. They must be stray horses, or must belong to some traveller who had lost his way, as the track led nowhere. He accordingly followed it up, until he came to an unlucky ped- dler, with two or three packhorses, who had been 304 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. bewildered among the cattle-tracks, and had wan- dered for two or three days among woods and canebrakes, until he was almost famished. " Old Schultz brought him to his house, fed him on venison, bear's meat, and hominy, and at the end of a week put liim in prime condition. The peddler could not sufficiently express his thankfulness, and when about to depart, inquired what he had to pay. Old Schultz stepped back with surprise. 'Stranger,' said he, 'you have been welcome under my roof. I 've given you nothing but wild meat and hominy, because I had no better, but have been glad of your company. You are welcome to stay as long as you please ; but, by Zounds ! if any one offers to pay Simon Schultz for food, he affronts him ! ' So saying, he walked out in a huff. " The peddler admired the hospitality of his host, but could not reconcile it to his conscience to go away witliout making some recompense. There were honest Simon's two daughters, two strapping, red-haired girls. He opened his packs and displayed riches before them of which they had no conception ; for in those days there were no country stores in those parts, with their arti- ficial finery and trinketry ; and this was the first peddler that had wandered into that part of the wilderness. The girls were for a time completely dazzled, and knew not what to choose ; but what caught their eyes most were two looking-glasses, about the size of a dollar, set in gilt tin. They had never seen the like before, having used no other mirror than a pail of water. The peddler EXPERIENCES OF RALPU RING WOOD. 305 presented them these jewels without the least hesitation ; nay, he gallantly hung them round their necks by red ribbons, almost as fine as the glasses themselves. This done, he took his de- parture, leaving them as much astonished as two princesses in a fairy tale, that have received a mastic ffift from an enchanter. " It was with these looking-glasses hung round their necks as lockets, by red ribbons, that old Schultz's ^ daughters made their appearance at three o'clock in the afternoon, at the frolic at Bob Mosely's, on the Pigeon-Roost Fork of the Muddy. " By the powers, but it was an event ! Such a thing had never before been seen in Kentucky. Bob Tarleton, a strapping fellow, with a head like a chestnut-burr, and a look like a boar in an apple-orchard, stepped up, caught hold of the looking-glass of one of the girls, and gazing at it for a moment, cried out : ' Joe Taylor, come here ! come here ! I '11 be darn'd if Patty Schultz aint got a locket that you can see your face in, as clear as in a spring of water ! ' " In a twinkling all the young hunters gathered round old Schultz's daughters. I, who knew what looking-glasses were, did not budge. Some of the girls who sat near me were excessively mortified at finding themselves thus deserted. I heard Peggy Pugh say to Sally Pigman, ' Good- ness knows, it 's well Schultz's daughters is got them things round their necks, for it's the first time the young men crowded round them ! ' " I saw innnediately the danger of the case. 20 306 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. We were a small community, and could not afford to be split up by feuds. So I stepped up to the girls, and whispered to them : ' Polly,' said I, 'those lockets are powerful fine, and become you amazingly, but you don't consider that the coun- try is not advanced enough in these parts for such things. You and I understand these matters, but these people don't. Fine things like these may do very well in the old settlements, but they won't answer at the Pigeon-Roost Fork of the Muddy. You had better lay them aside for the present, or we shall have no peace.' " Polly and her sister luckily saw their error ; they took off the lockets, laid them aside, and harmony was restored ; otherwise, I verily believe there would have been an end of our community. Indeed, notwithstanding the great sacrifice they made on this occasion, I do not think old Schultz's dauo;hters were ever much liked afterwards amouf^ the young women. " This was the first time that lookino:-o;lasses were ever seen in the Green River part of Ken- tucky. " I had now lived some time with old Miller, and had become a tolerably expert hunter. Game, however, began to grow scarce. The buffalo had gathered together, as If by universal understand- ing, and had crossed the Mississippi, never to re- turn. Strangers kept pouring into the country, clearing away the forests, and building in all directions. The hunters began to grow restive. Jemmy Kiel, tlie same of whom I have already Bpoken for his skill in raccoon catching, came EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 307 to me one day. ' I can t stand this any longer/ said he, ' we 're getting too thick here. Simon Schultz crowds me so that I have no comfort of my life.- " ' Why, how you talk ! ' said I ; ^ Simon Schultz lives twelve miles off.' " ' No matter ; his cattle run with mine, and I 've no idea of living where another man's cattle can run with mine. That 's too close neighbor- hood ; I want elbow-room. This country, too, is growing too poor to live in ; there 's no game ; so two or three of us have made up our minds to follow the buffalo to the Missouri, and we should like to have you of the party.' Other hunters of my acquaintance talked in the same manner. This set me thinking ; but the more I thought, the more I was perplexed. I had no one to ad- vise with ; old Miller and his associates knew of but one mode of life, and I had no experience in any other, but I had a wider scope of thought. When out hunting alone, I used to forget the sport, and sit for hours together on the trunk of a tree, with rifle in hand, buried in thought, and debating with myself: ' Shall I go with Jemmy Kiel and his company, or shall I remain here ? If I remain here, there will soon be nothing left to hunt. But am I to be a hunter all my life ? Have not I something more in me than to be car- rying a rifle on my shoulder, day after day, and dodging about after bears, and deer, and other brute beasts ? ' My vanity told me I had ; and I called to mind my boyish boast to my sister, that I would never return home until I returned 308 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. a member of Congress from Kentucky ; but was this the way to fit myself for such a station ? " Various plans passed through my mind, but they were abandoned almost as soon as formed. At length I determined on becoming a lawyer. True it is, I knew almost nothing. I had left school before I had learnt beyond the ' Rule of Three.' ' Never mind,' said I to myself, reso- lutely, ' I am a terrible fellow for hanging on to anything when I 've once made up my mind ; and if a man has but ordinary capacity, and will set to work with heart and soul, and stick to it, he can do almost anything.' With this maxim, which has been pretty much my main stay through- out life, I fortified myself in my determination to attempt the law. But how was I to set about it ? I must quit this forest life, and go to one or other of the towns, where 1 might be able to study and to attend the courts. This, too, required funds. I examined into the state of my finances. The purse given me by my father had remained un- touched, in the bottom of an old chest up in the loft, for money was scarcely needed in these parts. I had bargained away the skins acquired in hunt- ing, for a horse and various other matters, on which, in case of need, I could raise funds. I therefore thought I could make shift to maintain myself until I was fitted for the bar. " I informed my worthy host and patron, old Miller, of my plan. He shook his head at my turning my back upon the woods when I was in a fair way of making a first-rate hunter ; but he made no effort to dissuade me. I accordingly set EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 309 off in September, on horseback, intending to visii Lexington, Frankfort, and other of the principal towns, in search of a favorable place to prosecute my studies. My choice was made sooner than I expected. I had put up one night at Bardstown, and found, on inquiry, that I could get comfortable board and accommodation in a private family for a dollar and a half a week. I liked the place, and resolved to look no farther. So the next morning I prepared to turn my face homeward, and take my final leave of forest life. " I had taken my breakfast, and was waiting for my horse, when, in pacing up and down the piazza, I saw a young girl seated near a window, evidently a visitor. She was very pretty, with auburn hair and blue eyes, and was dressed in wliite. I had seen nothing of the kind since I had left Richmond, and at that time I was too much of a boy to be much struck by female charms. She was so delicate and dainty-looking, so different from the hale, buxom, brown girls of the woods ; and then her white dress ! — it was perfectly dazzling ! Never was poor youth more taken by surprise and suddenly bewitched. My heart yearned to know her ; but how was I to accost her ? I had grown wild in the woods, and had none of the habitudes of polite life. Had she been like Peggy Pugh, or Sally Pigman, or any other of my leathern-dressed belles of the Pigeon- Roost, I should have approached her without dread ; nay, had she been as fair as Schultz's daughters, with their looking-glass lockets, I should not have hesitated ; but that white dress and those 310 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. auburn ringlets, and blue eyes, and delicate looks, quite daunted while they fascinated me. I don't know what put it into my head, but I thought, all at once, that I would kiss her ! It would take a long acquaintance to arrive at such a boon, but I might seize upon it by sheer robbery. Nobody knew me here. I would just step in, snatch a kiss, mount my horse, and ride off. She would not be the worse for it ; and that kiss — oh ! I should die if I did not get it ! " I gave no time for the thought to cool, but entered the house and stepped lightly into the room. She was seated with her back to the door, looking out at the window, and did not hear my approach. I tapped her chair, and as she turned and looked up, I snatched as sweet a kiss as ever was stolen, and vanished in a twinkling. The next moment I was on horseback, galloping homeward, my very ears tingling at what I had done. " On my return home I sold my horse and turned everything to cash, and found, with the remains of the paternal purse, that I had nearly four hundred dollars, — a little capital which I re- solved to manage with the strictest economy. " It was hard parting with old Miller, who had been like a father to me ; it cost me, too, some- thing of a struggle to give up the free, indepen- dent wild- wood life I had hitherto led ; but I had marked out my course, and have never been one to flinch or turn back. " I footed it sturdily to Bardstown, took posses- sion of the quarters for which I had bargained, EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 311 Bliiit myself up, and set to work with might and main to study. But what a task I had before me ! I had everything to learn ; not merely law, but all the elementary branches of knowledge. I read and read for sixteen hours out of the four-and-twenty, but the more I read the more I became aware of my own ignorance, and shed bitter tears over my deficiency. It seemed as if the wilderness of knowledge expanded and grew more perplexed as I advanced. Every height gained only revealed a wider region to be trav- ersed, and nearly filled me with despair. I grew moody, silent, and unsocial, but studied on dog- gedly and incessantly. The only person with whom I held any conversation, was the worthy man in whose house I was quartered. He was honest and well-meaning, but perfectly ignorant, and I believe would have liked me much better if I had not been so much addicted to reading. He considered all books filled with lies and impo- sitions, and seldom could look into one without finding something to rouse his spleen. Nothing put him into a greater passion than the assertion that the world turned on its own axis every four- and-twenty hours. He swore it was an outrage upon common sense. ' Why, if it did,' said he, ' there would not be a drop of water in the well by morning, and all the milk and cream in the dairy would be turned topsy-turvy ! ' And then to talk of the earth going round the sun ! ' How do they know it ? I 've seen the sun rise every morning and set every evening for more than iiirty years. They must not talk to me about the earth's sjoing round the sun ! ' 312 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. "At another time he was in a perfect fret at being told the distance between the sun and moon. ' How can any one tell the distance ? ' cried he. ' Who surveyed it ? who carried the chain ? By Jupiter ! they only talk this way be- fore me to annoy me. But then there 's some people of sense who give in to this cursed hum- bug ! There 's Judge Broadnax, now, one of of the best lawyei-s we have ; is n't it surprising he should believe in such stuff? Why, sir, the other day I heard him talk of the distance from a star he called Mars to the sun ! He must have got it out of one or other of those confounded books he 's so fond of reading ; a book some im- pudent fellow has written, who knew nobody could swear the distance was more or less.' " For my own part, feeling my own deficiency in scientific lore, I never ventured to unsettle his conviction that the sun made his daily circuit round the earth ; and for aught I said to the con- trary, he lived and died in that belief. " I had been about a year at Bardstown, living thus studiously and reclusely, when, as I was one day walking the street, I met two young girls,, in one of whom I immediately recalled the little beauty whom I had kissed so impudently. She blushed up to the eyes, and so did I ; but we both passed on without farther sign of recognition. This second glimpse of her, however, caused an odd fluttering about my heart. I could not get her out of my thoughts for days. She quite in- terfered with my studies. I tried to think of her as a mere child, but it would not do ; she had im- EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. ?ylS proved in beauty, and was tending toward woman- hood ; and then I myself was but little better than a strippling. However, I did not attempt to seek after her, or even to find out who she was, but returned doggedly to my books. By degrees she faded from my thoughts, or if she did cross them occasionally, it was only to increase my despondency, for I feared that with all my exertions, I should never be able to fit myself for the bar, or enable myself to support a wife. " One cold stormy evening I was seated, in dumpish mood, in the bar-room of the inn, look- inor into the fire and turninsr over uncomfortable thoughts, when I was accosted by some one who had entered the room without my perceiving it. I looked up, and saw before me a tall and, as I thought, pompous-looking man, arrayed in small- clothes and knee-buckles, with powdered head, and shoes nicely blacked and polished ; a style of dress unparalleled in those days in that rough country. I took a pique against him from the very portliness of his appearance and stateliness of liis manner, and bristled up as he accosted me. He demanded if my name was not Ring- wood. " I was startled, for I supposed myself perfectly incog. ; but I answered in the afiirmative. " ' Your family, I believe, lives in Richmond.' " My gorge began to rise. ' Yes, sir,' replied I, sulkily, ' my family does live in Richmond.' '• ' And what, may I ask, has brought you into this part of the country ? ' " ' Zounds, sir ! ' cried I, starting on my feet, 314 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. ' what bnsiiiess is it of yours ? How dare you to question me in this manner ? ' " The entrance of some persons prevented a reply ; but I walked up and down the bar-room, fuming with conscious independence and insulted dignity, while the pompous looking personage, who had thus trespassed upon my spleen, retired with- out proffering another word. " The next day, while seated in my room, some one tapped at the door, and, on being bid to enter, the stranger in the powdered head, small-clothes, and shining shoes and buckles, walked in with ceremonious courtesy. " My boyish pride was again in arms, but he sub- dued me. He was formal, but kind and friendly. He knew my family and understood my situation, and the dogged struggle I was making. A little conversation, when my jealous pride was once put to rest, drew everything from me. He was a lawyer of experience and of extensive practice, and offered at once to take me with him and direct my studies. The offer was too advantageous and gratifying not to be immediately accepted. From that time I began to look up. I was put into a proper track, and was enabled to study to a proper purpose. I made acquaintance, too, with some of the young men of the place who were in the same pursuit, and was encouraged at finding that I could ' hold my own ' in argument with them. We instituted a debating-club, in which I soon became prominent and popular. Men of talents, engaged in other pursuits, joined it, and this diver- sified our subjects and put me on various tracks EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 315 of inquiry. Ladies, too, attended some of our discussions, and this gave them a poHte tone and had an influence on the manners of the debators. My legal patron also may have had a favorable effect in correcting any roughness contracted in my hunter's life. He was calculated to bend me in an opposite direction, for he was of the old school ; quoted ' Chesterfield ' on all occasions, and talked of Sir Charles Grandison, who was his heau ideal. It was Sir Charles Grandison, how- ever, Kentuckyized. " I had always been fond of female society. My experience, however, had hitherto been among the rouo;h daugliters of the backwoodsmen, and I felt an awe of young ladies in ' store clothes,' delicately brought up. Two or three of the mar- ried ladies of Bardstown, who had heard me at the debating-club, determined that I was a genius, and undertook to bring me out. I believe I really improved under their hands, became quiet where I had been shy or sulky, and easy where I had been impudent. I called to take tea one evening with one of these ladies, when to my surprise, and somewhat to my confusion, I found with her the identical blue-eyed little beauty whom I had so audaciously kissed. I was formally introduced to her, but neither of us betrayed any sign of previous ac- quaintance, except by blushing to the eyes. While tea was getting ready, the lady of the house went out of the room to give some directions, and left us alone. " Heavens and earth, what a situation ! I 316 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. would have given all the pittance I was worth, to have been in the deepest dell of the forest. I felt the necessity of saying something in excuse of my former rudeness, but I could not conjure up an idea, nor utter a word. Every moment matters were growing worse. I felt at one time tempted to do as I had done when I robbed her of the kiss, — bolt from the room, and take to flight ; but I was chained to the spot, for I really longed to gain her good will. " At length I plucked up courage, on seeing that she was equally confused with myself, and walking desperately up to her, I exclaimed : "' ' I have been trying to muster up something to say to you, but I cannot. I feel that I am in a horrible scrape. Do have pity on me, and help me out of it ! ' " A smile dimpled about her mouth, and played among the blushes of her cheek. She looked up with a shy but arch glance of the eye, that ex- pressed a volume of comic recollection ; we both broke into a laugh, and from that moment all went on well. " A few evenings afterward I met her at a dance, and prosecuted the acquaintance. I soon became deeply attached to her, paid my court regularly, and before I was nineteen years of age had engaged myself to marry her. I spoke to her mother, a widow lady, to ask her consent. She seemed to demur ; upon which, with my cus- tomary haste, I told her there would be no use in opposing the match, for if her daughter chose to have me, I would take her, in defiance of her family and the whole world. EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 317 " She langlied, and told me I need not give myself any uneasiness ; there would be no unrea- sonable opposition. She knew my family, and all about me. The only obstacle was, that I had no means of supporting a wife, and she had nothing to give with her daughter. " No matter ; at that moment everything was bnght before me. I was in one of my sanguine moods. I feared nothing, doubted nothing. So it was agreed that I should prosecute my studies, obtain a license, and as soon as I should be fairly launched in business, we would be married. " I now prosecuted my studies with redoubled ardor, and was up to my ears in law, wlien I re- ceived a letter from my father, who had heard of me and my whereabout,s. He applauded the course I had taken, but advised me to lay a foun- dation of general knowledge, and offered to defray my expenses if I would go to college. I felt the want of a general education, and was staggered with this offer. It militated somewhat against the self-dependent course I had so proudly, or rather conceitedly, marked out for myself, but it would enable me to enter more advantageously upon my legal career. I talked over the matter with the lovely girl to whom I was engaged. She sided in opinion with my father, and talked so disinterestedly, yet tenderly, that if possible, I loved her more than ever. I reluctantly, there- fore, agreed to go to college for a couple of years, *^^hough it must necessarily postpone our union. " Scarcely had I formed this resolution, when her mother was taken ill, and died, leaving her 318 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. without a protector. This again altered all my plans. I felt as if I could protect her. I gave up all idea of collegiate studies ; persuaded my- self that by dint of industry and application I might overcome the deficiencies of education, and resolved to take out a license as soon as possible. " That very autumn I was admitted to the bar, and within a month afterward was married. We were a young couple, — she not much above six- teen, I not quite twenty, — and both almost with- out a dollar in the world. The establishment which we set up was suited to our circumstances : a log-house, with two small rooms ; a bed, a table, a half-dozen chairs, a half-dozen knives and forks, a half-dozen spoons ; everything by half-dozens ; a little Delft ware ; everything in a small way : we were so poor, but then so happy ! " We had not been married many days when court was held at a county town, about twenty- five miles distant. It was necesssry for me to go there, and put myself in the way of business ; but how was I to go ? I had expended all my means on our establishment ; and then, it was hard parting with my wife so soon after marriage. However, go I must. Money must be made, or we should soon have the wolf at the door. I ac- cordingly borrowed a horse, and borrowed a little cash, and rode off from my door, leaving ray wife standing at it, and waving her hand after me. Her last look, so sweet and beaming, went to my heart. I felt as if I could go tlu'ough fire and water for her. " I arrived at the county town on a cool Octo- EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 319 ber evening. The inn was crowded, for the court was to commence on the following day. I knew no one, and wondered hoAV I, a stranger and a mere youngster, was to make my way in such a crowd, and to get business. The public room was thronged with the idlers of the country, who gather together on such occasions. There was some drinking going forward, with much noise, and a little altercation. Just as I entered the room, I saw a rough bully of a fellow, who was partly intoxicated, strike an old man. He came swag- gering by me, and elbowed me as he passed. I immediately knocked him down, and kicked him into the street. I needed no better introduction. In a moment I had a dozen rough shakes of the hand and invitations to drink, and found myself quite a personage in this rough assembly. " The next morning the court opened. I took my seat among the lawyers, but felt as a mere spectator, not having a suit in progress or pros- pect, nor having any idea where business was to come from. In the course of the morning, a man was put at the bar charged with passing counter- feit money, and was asked if he was ready for trial. He answered in the negative. He had been confined in a place where there were no lawyers, and had not had an opportunity of con- sulting any. He was told to choose counsel from the lawyers present, and to be ready for trial on the following day. He looked round the court, and selected me. I was thunderstruck. I could not tell why he should make such a choice. I, a beardless youngster, unpractised at the bar 320 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. perfectly unknown. I felt diffident yet delighted, and could have hugged the rascal. " Before leaving the court, he gave me one hundred dollars in a bag, as a retaining fee. I could scarcely believe my senses ; it seemed like a dream. The heaviness of the fee spoke but lightly in favor of his innocence, but that was no affair of mine. I was to be advocate, not judge, nor jury. I followed him to jail, and learned from him all the particulars of his case : thence I went to the clerk's office, and took minutes of the indictment. I then examined the law on the subject, and prepared my brief in my room. All this occupied me until midnight, when I went to bed, and tried to sleep. It was all in vain. Never in my life was I more wide awake. A host of thoughts and fancies kept rushing through my mind ; the shower of gold that had so unexpect- edly fallen into my lap ; the idea of my poor little wife at home, that I was to astonish with my good fortune ! But then the awful responsibility I had undertaken ! — to speak for the first time in a strange court ; the expectations the culprit had evidently formed of my talents ; all these, and a crowd of similar notions, kept whirling through my mind. I tossed about all night, fear- ing the morning would find me exhausted and in- competent ; in a word, the day dawned on me, a miserable fellow ! " I got up feverish and nervous. I walked out before breakfast, striving to collect my thoughts, and tranquillize my feelings. It v/as a bright morning ; the air was pure and frosty. I bathed EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. 321 my forehead and my hands in a beautiful running stream ; but I could not allay the fever heat that raged within. I returned to breakfast, but could not eat. A single cup of coffee formed my repast. It was time to go to court, and I went there with a throbbing heart. I believe if it had not been for the thoughts of my little wife, in her lonely lo2;-house, I should have ffiven back to the man his hundred dollars, and relinquished the cause. I took my seat, looking, I am convinced, more like a culprit than the rogue I was to defend. " Wlien the time came for me to speak, my heart died within me. I rose embarrassed and dismayed, and stammered in opening my cause. I went on from bad to worse, and felt as if I was going down hill. Just then the public prosecutor, a man of talents, but somewhat rough in his prac- tice, made a sarcastic remark on something I had said. It was like an electric spark, and ran tingling through every vein in my body. In an instant my diffidence was gone. My whole spirit was in arms. I answered with promptness and bitter ness, for I felt the cruelty of such an attack upon a novice in my situation. The public prosecutor made a kind of apology ; this, from a man of his redoubted powers, was a vast concession. I re- newed my argument with a fearless glow ; car- ried the case through triumphantly, and the man was acquitted. " This was the making of me. Everybody was curious to know who this new lawyer was, that had thus suddenly risen among them, and bearded the attorney-general at the very outset. The 21 322 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. Story of my debut at the inn, on the preceding evening, when I had knocked down a bully, and kicked him out of doors, for striking an old man, was circulated, with favorable exaggerations/ Even my very beardless chin and juvenile coun- tenance were in my favor, for people gave me far more credit than I really deserved. The chance business which occurs in our country courts came thronging upon me. I was repeatedly employed in other causes ; and by Saturday night, when the court closed, and I had paid my bill at the inn, I found myself with a hundred and fifty dollars in silver, three hundred dollars in notes, and a horse that I afterward sold for two hundred dollars more. " Never did miser gloat on his money with more delight. I locked the door of my room, piled the money in a heap upon the table, walked round it, sat with my elbows on the table and my chin upon my hands, and gazed upon it. Was I thinking of the money ? No ! I was thinking of my little wife at home. Another sleepless night ensued ; but what a night of golden fancies and splendid air-castles ! As soon as morning dawned, I was up, mounted the borrowed horse with which I had come to court, and led the other, which I had received as a fee. All the way I was delighting myself with the thoughts of the surprise I had in store for my little wife ; for both of us had expected nothing but that I should spend all the money I had borrowed, and should return in debt. " Our meeting was joyous, as you may suppose : EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD. ?>2b but I played the part of the Indian hunter, who, when he returns from the chase, never for a tune speaks of his success. She had prepared a snug little rustic meal for me, and while it was getting ready, I seated myself at an old-fashioned desk in one corner, and began to count over my money and put it away. She came to me before I had finished, and asked who I had collected the money for. " ' For myself, to be sure,' replied I, with af- ficted coolness ; ' I made it at court.' " She looked me for a moment in the face, in- credulously. I tried to keep my countenance, and to play Indian, but it would not do. My muscles began to twitch ; my feelings all at once gave way. I caught her in my arms ; laughed, cried, and danced about the room, like a crazy man. From that time forward, we never wanted for money. " I had not been long in successful practice, when I was surprised one day by a visit from my woodland patron, old Miller. The tidings of my prosperity had reached him in the wilderness, and he had walked one hundred and fifty miles on foot to see me. By that time I had improved my do- mestic establishment, and had all things comfort- able about me. He looked around him with a wondering eye, at what he considered luxuries and superfluities ; but supposed they were all right, in my altered circumstances. He said he did not know, upon the whole, but that I acted for the best. It is true, if game had continued plenty, it would have been a folly for me to quit 324 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RING WOOD, a hunter's life ; but hunting was pretty nigh clone up in Kentucky. The buffalo had gone to Mis- souri ; the elk were nearly gone also ; deer, too, were growing scarce ; they might last out his time, as he was growing old, but they were not worth setting up life upon. He had once lived on the borders of Virginia. Game grew scarce there ; he followed it up across Kentucky, and now it was again giving him the slip ; but he was too old to follow it farther. " He remained with us three days. My wife did everything in her power to make him com- fortable ; but at the end of that time he said he nuist be off again to the woods. He was tired of the village, and of having so many people about him. He accordingly returned to the wil- derness, and to hunting life. But I fear he did not make a good end of it ; for I understand that a few years before his death, he married Sukey Thomas, who lived at the White Oak Run." THE SEMINOLES. I ROM the time of the chimerical cruisings of Old Ponce de Leon in search of the Fountain of Youth ; the avaricious ex- pedition of Pamphilo de Narvaez in quest of gold ; and the chivalrous enterprise of Hernando de Soto, to discover and conquer a second Mexico, the natives of Florida have been continually sub- jected to the invasions and encroachments of white men. They have resisted them perseveringly but fruitlessly, and are now battling amidst swamps and morasses, for the last foothold of their native soil, with all the ferocity of despair. Can we wonder at the bitterness of a hostility that has been handed down from father to son for upward of three centuries, and exasperated by the wrongs and miseries of each succeeding generation ! Tlie very name of the savages with whom we are fighting, betokens their fallen and homeless con- dition. Formed of the wrecks of once powerful tribes, and driven from their ancient seats of pros- perity and dominion, they are known by the name of the Seminoles, or " Wanderers." Bartram, who travelled through Florida in the latter part of the last century, speaks of passing 326 THE SEMINOLES. throiigli a great extent of ancient Indian fields, now silent and deserted, overgrown with forests, orange groves, and rank vegetation, the sight of the ancient Alachua, the capital of a famous and powerful tribe, who in days of old could assemble thousands at bull-play and other athletic exercises " over these then happy fields and green plains." " Almost every step we take," adds he, " over these fertile heights, discovers the remains and traces of ancient human habitations and cultiva- tion." We are told that about the year 1763, when Florida was ceded by the Spaniards to the Eng- lish, the Indians generally retired from the towns and the neighborhood of the whites, and burying themselves in the deep forests, intricate swamps and hom mocks, and vast savannahs of the interior, devoted themselves to a pastoral life, and the rear- ing of horses and cattle. These are the people that received the name of the Serainoles, or Wan- derers, which they still retain. Bar tram gives a pleasing picture of them at the time he visited them in their wilderness, where their distance from the abodes of the white man gave them a transient quiet and security. " This handful of people," says he, " possesses a vast territory, all East and the greatest part of West Florida, which being naturally cut and di- vided into thousands of islets, knolls, and emi- nences, by the innumerable rivers, lakes, swamps, vast savannahs, and ponds, form so many secure retreats and temporary dwelling-places that effec- tually guard them from any sudden invasions or THE SEMINOLES. 327 attacks from their enemies ; and being such a swampy, hommocky country, furnishes such a plenty and variety of supplies for the nourishment of varieties of animals, that I can venture to as* sert, that no part of the globe so abounds with wild game, or creatures fit for the food of man. " Thus they enjoy a superabundance of the necessaries and conveniences of life, with the se- curity of person and property, the two great con- cerns of mankind. The hides of deer, bears, tigers, and wolves, together with honey, wax, and other productions of the country, purchase their clothing equipage and domestic utensils from the whites. They seem to be free from want or de- sires. No cruel enemy to dread ; nothing to give them disquietude, hut the gradual encroachments of the white people. Thus contented and undis- turbed, they appear as blithe and free as the birds of the air, and like them as volatile and active, tuneful and vociferous. The visage, action, and deportment of the Seminoles form the most strik- ing picture of happiness in this life ; joy, content- ment, love, and friendship, without guile or affec- tation, seem inherent in them, or predominant in their vital principle, for it leaves them with but the last breath of life. . . . They are fond of games and gambling, and amuse themselves like children, in relating extravagant stories, to cause surprise and mirth."* The same writer gives an engaging picture of his treatment by these savages : " Soon after entering the forests, we were met * Bartram's Travels in Noi-Lh America. 328 THE *SEMIN OLES. in the path by a small company of Indians, smil- ing and beckoning to us long before we joined them. This was a family of Talahasoehte, who had been out on a hunt and were returning home loaded with barbacued meat, hides, and honey. Their company consisted of the man, his wife and children, well mounted on fine horses, with a i.um- ber of pack-horses. The man offered us a fawn- skin of honey, which I accepted, and at parting presented him with some fish-hooks, sewing-nee- dles, etc. " On our return to camp in ' the evening, we were saluted by a party of young Indian war- riors, who had pitched their tents on a green emi- nence near the lake, at a small distance from our camp, under a little grove of oaks and palms. This company consisted of seven young Seminoles, under the conduct of a young prince or chief of Talahasoehte, a town southward in the Isthmus. They were all dressed and painted with singular elegance, and richly ornamented with silver plates, chains, etc., after the Seminole mode, with wav- ing plumes of feathers on their crests. On our coming up to them, they arose and shook hands ; we alighted, and sat a while with them by their cheerful fire. " The young prince informed our chief that he was in pursuit of a young fellow who had fled from the town, carrying off Avith liim one of his favorite young wives. He said, merrily, he would have the ears of both of them before he returned. He was rather above the middle stature, and the most perfect human figure I ever saw ; of an THE SEMINOLES. 329 amiable, engaging countenance, air, and deport- ment ; free and familiar in conversation, yet re- taining a becoming gracefulness and dignity. We arose, took leave of them, and crossed a little vale, covered with a charming green turf, already illu- minated by the soft light of the full moon. " Soon after joining our companions at camp, our neighbors, the prince and his associates, paid us a visit. "We treated them with the best fare we had, having till this time preserved our spirit- uous liquors. They left us with perfect cordiality and cheerfulness, wishing us a good repose, and retired to their own camp. Having a band of music with them, consisting of a drum, flutes, and a rattle - gourd, they entertained us during the night with their music, vocal and instrumental. " There is a languishing softness and melan- choly air in the Indian convivial songs, especially of the amorous class, irresistibly moving attention, and exquisitely pleasing, especially in their soli- tary recesses, when all Nature is silent." Travellers who have been among them, in more recent times, before they had embarked in their present desperate struggle, represent them in much the same light ; as leading a pleasant, indolent life, in a climate that required little shelter or clothing, and where the spontaneous fruits of i\\