LIBRARY
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
SANTA BARBARA
PRESENTED BY
Mr. H. H. Kil iani
OCSB LIBRARY
I
o
p
OF
TffiCLOR
JEDition
THE WORKS
OF
BAYARD TAYLOR
VOLUME V
BY-WAYS OF EUROPE
HANNAH THURSTON
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NK\V YORK I.ON'DON
87 WEST TWKNTV-THIKU STKKKT 24 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND
(The iiiuchcrbochcr 'uss
BY-WAYS OF EUROPE
BAYARD TAYLOR
AUTHOR S RKVISKD EDITION
S itered at cording- to Act of Congrew, in the year I8fl6, fry
G P. PUTNAM AND SON,
th Cork's Office of the DUtrict Court for :he Southern District of New York.
DEDICATED
TO MY FRIEND OF MANY YF.ARS
HORACE GREELEY
CONTENTS.
A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER . ... 7
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA . , . . . . 21
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA 59
WINTER- LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG 85
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL .... . 113
FROM PERPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT 145
BALEARIC DATS, I. ........ , 171
BALEARIC DAYS, II 197
CATALONIAN HRIDLE-ROADS . 227
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES ... . 269
THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE .... ... 293
THE KYFKHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS 307
A WEEK ON CAPRI .......... 335
A TRIP TO ISCHIA 365
THE LAND OF PAOLI , 391
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA ; WITH A DISTANT VIEW or CA-
PFERA , 419
Is THB TEUTOBURGER FOREST . . . . . 449
A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER.
WHOEVER you may be, my friendly reader, whether 1
may assume the footing of familiar acquaintance which
comes of your having read my former books of travel, or
whether we stand for the first time face to face, self- intro-
duced to each other, and uncertain, as yet, how we shall
get on together, will you let me take you by the button-
hole and tell you some things which must be said now, if
at all?
This is probably the last volume of travels which I shall
ever publish. It closes a series of personal and literary
experiences which cannot be renewed, and which I have
no belief will be extended. Now, therefore, all that I
have done as a traveller detaches itself from my other
labors, lies clear behind me as a life by itself, and may
be considered with a degree of self-criticism which was
scarcely possible while it lay nearer. The brief review
which I desire to make, must necessarily be autobiograph-
ical in its character, and I am aware that this is question-
able ground. But as I have been specially styled, for so
many years and little to my own satisfaction, "a traveller"
or "a tourist," and in either character have received praise
aud blame, equally founded on a misconception of the
facts and hopes of my life, I claim the privilege, this once,
to set the truth before those who may care to hear it.
Only one of two courses is open to an author : either
to assume a dignified reserve, as who should say to his
reader, " There is my book it is all that concerns you
1
8 A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER.
how or why it was written is my own secret;" or, to take
the reader frankly into his confidence, and brave the ready
charge of vanity or over-estimation of self, by the free
communication of his message. Generally, the latter course
is only to anticipate the approval which is sure to come in
the end, ! f there is any vitality in an author's work. To
most critics the personal gossip of an acknowledged name is
delightful : posthumous confidences also somehow lose the
air of assertion which one finds in the living man. Death,
or that fixed renown which rarely comes during life, sets
aside the conventionalities of literature; and the very mod-
esty and reticence which are supposed to be a part of
them then become matters of regret. So there are tran-
sitions in life which seem posthumous to its preceding phases,
and the present self looks upon the past as akin, indeed,
but not identical.
During the past twenty-two years I have written and
published ten volumes of travel, which have been exten-
sively read, and are still read by newer classes of readers.
Whatever may be the quality or value of those works, I
may certainly assume that they possess an interest of some
kind, and that the reader whom I so often meet, who has
followed me from first to last (a fidelity which, I must con-
fess, is always grateful and always surprising), will not ob-
ject if, now, in offering Jrim this eleventh and final volume,
I suspend my role of observer long enough to relate how
the series came to be written.
The cause of my having travelled so extensively has
been due to a succession of circumstances, of a character
more or less accidental. My prolonged wanderings formed
no part of my youthful programme of life. I cannot dis-
connect my early longings for a knowledge of the Old
World from a still earlier passion for Art and Literature.
To the latter was added a propensity, which I have never
unlearned, of acquiring as much knowledge as possible
through the medium of my own experience rathei than to
A FAMILIAR LETTER TO 'iHE READER. 9
accept it, unquestioned, from anybody else. When I first
set out for Europe I was still a boy, and less acquainted
with life than most boys of my age. I was driven to the
venture by the strong necessity of providing for myself
sources of education which, situated as I was, could not be
reached at home. In other words, the journey offered me
a chance of working my way.
At that time, Europe was not the familiar neighbor-con-
tinent which it has since become. The merest superficial
letters, describing cities, scenery, and the details of travel,
were welcome to a very large class of readers, and the nar-
rative of a youth of nineteen, plodding a-foot over the Old
World, met with an acceptance which would have been
impossible ten years later. I am fully aware how little
literary merit that narrative possesses. It is the work of a
boy who was trying to learn something, but with a very faint
idea of the proper method or discipline ; who had an im-
mense capacity for wonder and enjoyment, but not much
power, as yet, to discriminate between the important and
the trivial, the true and the false. Perhaps the want of
development which the book betrays makes it attractive
to those passing through the same phase of mental growth.
I cannot otherwise account for its continued vitality.
Having been led, after returning home, into the profes-
sion of journalism, the prospect of further travel seemed
very remote. I felt, it is true, that a visit to Greece, Egypt,
and Syria was desirable in order to complete my acquain-
tance with the lands richest in the history of civilization ;
and I would have been quite willing to relinquish all chance
of seeing more of the world, had that much been assured
to me. I looked forward to years of steady labor as a
servant of the Press ; but, being a servant, and by neces-
sity an obedient one, I was presently sent forth, in the line
of my duty, to fresh wanderings. The " New York Tribune "
required a special correspondent in California, in 1849
and the choice of its editor fell upon me. After performing
10 A FAMILIAI LETTER TO THE READER.
the stipulated service I returned by way of Mexico, IB
order to make the best practicable use of my time. Thus,
and not from any roving propensity, originated my second
journey.
When, two years later, a change of scene and of occu-
pation became imperative, from the action of causes quite
external to my own plans and hopes, my first thought
naturally, was to complete my imperfect scheme of travel
by a journey to Egypt and the Orient. I was, moreover,
threatened with an affection of the throat, for which the
climate of Africa offered a sure remedy. The journey was
simply a change of position, from assistant-editor to corres-
pondent, enabling me to obtain the strength which I sought,
without giving up the service on which I relied for support.
How it came to be extended to Central Africa is partly
explained by the obvious advantage of writing from a new
and but partially explored field ; but there were other influ-
ences acting upon me which I did not fully comprehend
at the time, and cannot now describe without going too
deeply into matters of private history. I obeyed an in-
stinct, rather than followed a conscious plan.
After having completed my African journeys, I traversed
Palestine, Syria, and Asia Minor, and finally reached Con-
stantinople, intending to return homewards through Europe.
There, however, I found letters from my associates of " The
Tribune," insisting that I should proceed speedily to China,
for the purpose of attaching myself to the American Ex-
pedition to Japan, under Commodore Perry. I cannot say
that the offer was welcome, yet its conditions were such
that I could not well refuse, and, besides, I had then no
plan of my own of sufficient importance to oppose to it.
The circumstances of my life made me indifferent, so long
as the service required was not exactly distasteful, and in
this mood I accepted the proposition. Eight monthg still
intervened before the squadron could reach China, and I
determined *.o turn the time to good advantage, by incltid-
A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER. 11
Ing Spain and India in the outward journey. Thus the
travel of one year was extended to two and a half, and
instead of the one volume which I had premeditated, I
brought home the material for three.
It would be strange if an experience so prolonged should
not sensibly change the bent of an author's mind. It was
not the sphere of activity which I should have chosen, had
I been free to choose, but it was a grateful release from
the drudgery of the editorial room. After three years of
clipping and pasting, and the daily arrangement of a chaos
of ephemeral shreds, in an atmosphere which soon exhausts
the vigor of the blood, the change to the freedom of Orien-
tal life, to the wonders of the oldest art and to the easy
record of impressions so bright and keen that they put
themselves into words, was like that from night to day.
With restored health, the life of the body became a delight
m itself; a kindly fortune seemed to attend my steps; I
learned something of the patience and fatalistic content of
the races among whom I was thrown, and troubled myself
no longer with an anxious concern for the future.
I confess, too, that while floating upon the waters of the
White Nile, while roaming through the pine forests of
Phrygia or over the hills of Loo-Choo, I learned to feel
the passion of the P^xplorer. Almost had I eaten 01 that
fruit which gives its restless poison to the blood. It is
very likely that, had I then been able to have marked out
my future path, I might have given it the character which
was afterwards ascribed to me.
I will further confess that the unusual favor with which
those three volumes of travel were received, perhaps,
also, the ever-repeated attachment of " traveller " to my
name, and that demand for oral report of what I had seen
and learned, which threw me suddenly into the profession
of lecturing, with much the sensation of the priest whom
Henri Quatre made general by mistake, I will confess, I
say, that these things did for a time mislead me as to th
12 A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READEB.
kind of work which I was best fitted to do. I did not see
then, that my books were still a continuation of the process
of development, and that, tried by a higher literary stan 1-
ard, they stopped short of real achievement My plan, in
writing them, had been very simple. Within the limits
which I shall presently indicate, my faculty of observation
had been matured by exercise ; my capacity to receive
impressions was quick and sensitive, and the satisfaction I
took in descriptive writing was much the same as that
of an artist who should paint the same scenes. I endeav-
ored, in fact, to make words a substitute for pencil and
palette. Having learned, at last, to analyze and compare,
and finding that the impression produced upon my readers
was proportionate to its degree of strength upon my own
mind, I fancied that I might acquire the power of bringing
home to thousands of firesides clear pictures of the remotest
regions of the earth, and that this would be a service worth
undertaking.
With a view of properly qualifying myself for the work,
I made a collection of the narratives of the noted travel-
lers of all ages, from Herodotus to Humboldt. It was a
rich and most instructive field of study ; but the first re-
sult was to open my eyes to the many requirements of a
successful traveller a list which increases with each gene-
ration. I was forced to compare myself with those wan-
derers of the Middle Ages, whose chief characteristic was a
boundless capacity for wonder and delight, but, alas ! this
age would not allow me their naive frankness of speech.
Moreover, I had now discovered that Man is vastly more
important than Nature, and the more I dipped into anthro-
pological and ethnological works, the more I became con-
vinced that I could not hope to be of service unless I
should drop all other purposes and plans, and give my life
wholly to the studies upon which those sciences are based.
But the latter lay so far away from my intentions so fai
from that intellectual activity which is joyous because it if
A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER. 18
spontaneous that I was forced to pause and consider the
matter seriously.
A writer whose mind has been systematically trained
from the start will hardly comprehend by what gradual
processes I attained unto a little self-knowledge. The
faculties called into exercise by travel so repeated and
prolonged, continued to act from the habit of action, and
subsided very slowly into their normal relation to other
qualities of the mind. They still continued to affect my
plans, when I left home, in 1856, for another visit to Europe.
It will, therefore, be easily understood how I came to com-
bine a winter and summer trip to the Arctic Zone with my
design of studying the Scandinavian races and languages :
the former was meant as a counterpart to my previous ex-
periences in tropical lands. This journey, and that to
Greece and Russia, which immediately followed, were the
receding waves of the tide. While I was engaged with
them I found that my former enjoyment of new scenes,
and the zest of getting knowledge at first-hand, were sen
sibly diminished by regret for the lack of those severe pre
paratory studies which would have enabled me to see and
learn so much more.
I never thought it worth while to contradict a story
which, for eight or nine years past has appeared from time
to time in the newspapers that Humboldt had said of me :
"He has travelled more and seen less than any man living."
The simple publication of a letter from Humboldt to my-
self would have silenced this invention ; but I desisted,
because I knew its originator, and did not care to take
that much notice of him. The same newspapers after-
wards informed me that he had confessed the slander,
shortly before his death. I mention the circumstance now,
in order to say that the sentence attributed to Humboldt
was no doubt kept alive by the grain of truth at the bottom
of it. Had Flumboldt actually said: "No man who has
published so many volumes of travel has contributed so
14 A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READEB.
little to positive science" he would have spoken the
truth... and I should have agreed with him. But whenj
during my last interview with that great student of Nature,
I remarked that he would find in my volumes nothing of
the special knowledge which he needed, it was very grate
fill to me when he replied : " But you paint the world as we,
explorers of science, cannot. Do not undervalue what you
have done. It is a real service ; and the unscientific travel-
ler, who knows the use of his eyes, observes for us always,
without being aware of it." Dr. Petermann, the distin-
guished geographer, made almost the same remark to me,
four or five years afterwards.
I should have been satisfied with such approval and with
certain kindly messages which I received from Dr. Barth
and other explorers, and have gone forward in the path
into which I was accidentally led, had I not felt that it was
diverging more and more from the work wherein I should
find my true content. I may here be met by the thread-
bare platitude that an author is no judge of his own per-
formance. Very well : let me, then, be the judge of my
own tastes ! On the one hand there was still the tempta-
tion of completing an unfulfilled scheme. Two additional
journeys one to the Caucasus, Persia, and the more ac-
jessible portions of Central Asia, and the other to South
America would have rounded into tolerable completeness
my personal knowledge of Man and Nature. Were these
once accomplished, I might attempt the construction of a
work, the idea of which hovered before my mind for a long
time a human cosmos, which should represent the race
in its grand divisions, its relation to soil and climate, its
varieties of mental and moral development, and its social,
political, and spiritual phenomena, with the complex causes
from which they spring. The field thus opened was grander
than that which a mere " tourist " could claim : it had a
genuine charm for the imagination, and even failure therein
was more attractive thar. success in a superficial branch of
literature.
A FAMILIAR LETTEK TO THE READER. 15
On the other hand, I began to feel very keenly the de-
moralizing influence (if one may apply such a terra to intel-
lectual effort) of travel. The mind flags under the strain
of a constant receptivity : it must have time to assimilate
and arrange its stores of new impressions. Moreover,
without that ripe knowledge which belongs to the later
rather than the earlier life of a man, the traveller misses
the full value of his opportunities. His observations, in
many respects, must be incomplete, and tantalize rather
than satisfy. While he grows weary of describing the ex-
ternal forms of Nature and the more obvious peculiarities
of races, he has little chance of following the clews to
deeper and graver knowledge which are continually offered
to his hands. Where, as in my case, other visions, of very
different features, obscured for a time but never suppressed,
beckon him onward, he must needs pause before the desul-
tory habit of mind, engendered by travel, becomes con-
firmed.
It was easy for me, at this " parting of the ways," to de
cide which was my better road. While I was grateful for
the fortune which had led me so far, and through such
manifold experience, I saw that I should only reach the
best results of what I had already gained, by giving up all
further plans of travel. The favor with which my narra-
tives had been received was, in great measure, due to a re-
flection in them of the lively interest which I had taken in
my own wandering?, to an appetite for external impres-
sions which was now somewhat cloyed, and a delight in
mere description which I could no longer feel. My activ-
ity in this direction appealed to me as a field which had
been traversed in order to reach my proper pastures. It
had been broad and pleasant to the feet, and many good
friends cried to me : " Stay where you are it is the path
which you should tread ! " yet 1 preferred to press onward
towards the rugged steeps beyond. It seemed to me that
the pleasure of reading a book must be commensurate with
16 A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READEB.
the author's pleasure in writing it, and that those books
which do not grow from the natural productive fi rce of the
mind will never possess any real vitality.
The poet Tennyson once said to me : "A book of travels
may be so written that it shall be as immortal as a great
poem." Perhaps so: but in that case its immortality will
be dependent upon intellectual qualities which the travel-
ler, as a traveller, does not absolutely require. The most
interesting narrative of exploration is that which is most
simply told. A poetic apprehension of Nature, a spark-
ling humor, graces of style all these are doubtful merits.
We want the naked truth, without even a fig-leaf of fancy.
We may not appreciate all the facts of science which the
explorer has collected, but to omit them would be to weaken
his authority. Narratives of travel serve either to measure
our knowledge of other lands, in which case they stand
only until superseded by more thorough research, or to ex-
hibit the coloring which those lands take when painted for
us by individual minds, in which case their value must be
fixed by the common standards of literature. For the
former class, the widest scientific culture is demanded: for
the latter, something of the grace and freedom and keen
mental insight which we require in a work of fiction. The
only traveller in whom the two characters were thoroughly
combined, was Goethe.
Should I hesitate to confess that to be styled " a great
American traveller," has always touched me with a sense
of humiliation ? It is as if one should say " a great Amer-
ican pupil ; " for the books of travel which I have pub-
lished appear to me as so many studies, so many processes
of education, with the one advantage that, however imma-
ture they may be, nothing in them is forced or affected.
The j jurneys they describe came, as I have shown, through
a natural series of circumstances, one leading on the other:
no particular daring or energy, and no pri vatic n from
which a healthy man need shrink, was necessary. Dangef
A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER. 11
\r> oftener a creation of one's own mind than an absolute
fact, and 1 presume that my share of personal adventure
was no more than would fall to the lot of any man, in the
same period of travel. To be praised for virtues which
one does not feel to be such, is quite as unwelcome as to
be censured for faults which are not made evident to one's
self.
If I wish that these volumes of mine were worthier of
the opportunities granted to me, at least I do not regret
that they were written. Hardly a week passes, but I re-
ceive letters from young men, who have been stimulated
by them to achieve the education of travel ; and, believing
as I do that the more broad and cosmopolitan in his views
a man becomes through his knowledge of other lands, the
purer and more intelligent shall be his patriotic sentiment
the more easily he shall lift himself out of the narrow
sphere of local interests and prejudices I rejoice that I
have been able to assist in giving this direction to the
minds of the American youth. It is hardly necessary to
say that I had no such special intention in the beginning,
for I never counted beforehand on the favor of the public:
but the fact, as it has been made manifest to me, is some-
thing for which I am exceedingly grateful.
In this volume I have purposely dropped the form of
continuous narrative, which, indeed, was precluded by the
nature of my material. The papers it contains, each de-
voted to a separate By-way of Europe, were written at
/arious times, during two journeys abroad, within the past
five or six years. I employed the intervals of other occu-
pation, from time to time, in making excursions to outlying
corners of the Old World, few of which are touched by the
ordinary round of travel. Nearly all of them, nevertheless,
attracted me by some picturesque interest, either of history,
or scenery, or popular institutions and customs. SucL
points, for instance, as Lake Ladoga, Appenzell, Andorra,
and the Teutoburger Forest, although lying near the fre-
18 A FAMIUAR LETTER TO THE READEB.
|uented highways and not difficult of access, are verj
rarely visited, and an account of them is not an unneces-
sary contribution to the literature of travel. A few of the
places I have included St. Petersburg in winter, Capri
and Ischia cannot properly be classed as " By-ways,"
yet they form so small a proportion of the contents of the
volume that I may be allowed to retain its title. Being
the result of brief intervals of leisure, and the desire to
turn my season of recreation to some good account, the
various papers were produced without regard to any plan,
and each is meant to be independent of the others. If I
had desiontd to present a tolerably complete description
of all the interesting By-ways of Europe, I must have in-
cluded Auvergne, Brittany, the Basque provinces of Spain,
Friesland, the Carpathians, Apulia, Croatia, and Transyl-
vania.
In laying down the mantle of a traveller, which has been
thrown upon my shoulders rather than voluntarily assumed,
I do not wish to be understood as renouncing all the chances
of the future. I cannot foresee what compulsory influences,
fhat inevitable events, may come to shape the course of
tiy life : the work of the day is all with which a man need
concern himself. One thing, only, is certain ; I shall
never, from the mere desire of travel, go forth to the dis-
tant parts of the earth. * Some minds are so constituted
that their freest and cheerfulest activity will not accom-
pany the body from place to place, but is dependent on
the air of home, on certain familiar surroundings, and an
O
equable habit of life. Each writer has his own peculiar
laws of production, which the reader cannot always deduce
from his works. It amuses me, who have set my house-
hold gods upon the soil which my ancestors have tilled for
near two hundred years, to hear my love of home ques-
tioned by men who have changed theirs a dozen times.
I therefore entreat of you, my kindly reader, that you
will not ascribe my many wanderings to an inborn propen
A FAMILIAR LET1ER TO THE READER. 19
sity to wander, that you will believe me when I say that
culture, in its most comprehensive sense, is more to me
than the chance of seeing the world, and, finally, that
you will consider whether I have any legitimate right to as-
sume the calling of an author, unless I choose the work
that seems fittest, without regard to that acceptance of it
which is termed popularity. If you have found enough in
my former volumes of travel to persuade you to accompany
me into other walks of literature, I shall do my best to
convince you that I am right iu the conclusions at which
I have arrived. If, believing me mistaken, you decide to
turn away, let us at least shake hands, and, while I thank
you for your company thus far on my way, still part as
friends !
BAYARD TAT LOB.
CBDABCROFT, September. 1868.
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA.
"Dear T., The steamboat Valamo is advertised to leave OB
Tuesday, the 26th (July 8th, New Style), for Serdopol, at the
very head of Lake Ladoga, stopping on the way at Schliisselburg,
Konewitz Island, Kexholm, and the island and monastery of Va-
laam. The anniversary of Saints Sergius and Herrmann, mir-
acle-workers, will be celebrated at the last named place on Thurs-
day, and the festival of the Apostles Peter and Paul on Friday.
If the weather is fine, the boat will take passengers to the Holy
Island. The fare is nine rubles for the trip. You can be back
again in St. Petersburg by six o'clock on Saturday even.ng ' TO-
visions can be had on board, but (probably) not beds ; so, if you
are luxurious in this particular, take along your own sheets, pil-
low-cases, and blankets. I intend going, and depend upon your
company. Make up your mind by ten o'clock, when I will call
for your decision. Yours,
M P."
I laid down the note, looked at my watch, and found that
I had an hour for deliberation before P.'s arrival. " Lake
Ladoga?" said I to myself; "it is the largest lake in Eu-
rope I learned that at school. It is full of fish ; it is
stormy ; and the Neva is its outlet. What else ? " I took
down a geographical dictionary, and obtained the following
additional particulars : The name Ladoga (not Laddga, as
it is pronounced in America) is Finnish, and means " new."
Th lake lies between 60 and 61 45' north latitude, is
175 versts about 117 miles in length, from north to
south, and 100 versts in breadth ; receives the great river
Volkhoff on the south, the Svir, which pours into it the
waters f Lake Onega, on the east, and the overflow of
24 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE.
nearly half the lakes of Finland, on the west ; and is, in
some parts, fourteen hundred feet deep.
Vainly, however, did I ransack my memory for the nar
rative of any traveller who had beheld and described this
lake. The red hand-book, beloved of tourists, did not even
deign to notice its existence. The more I meditated on
the subject, the more I became convinced that here was an
untrodden corner of the world, lying within easy reach of
a great capital, yet unknown to the eyes of conventional
sight-seers. The name of Valaam suggested that of Bar-
laam, in Thessaly, likewise a Greek monastery ; and though
I knew nothing about Sergius and Herrmann, the fact of
their choosing such a spot was the beginning of a curious
interest in their history. The very act of poring over a
map excites the imagination : I fell into conjectures about
the scenery, vegetation, and inhabitants, and thus, by the
time P. arrived, was conscious of a violent desire to make
the cruise with him. To our care was confided an American
youth whom I shall call R., we three being, as we after-
wards discovered, the first of our countrymen to visit the
northern portion of the lake.
The next morning, although it was cloudy and raw, R.
and I rose betimes, and were jolted on a droskky through
the long streets to the Valamo's landing-place. We found
a handsome English-builf steamer, with tonnage and power
enough for the heaviest squalls, and an after-cabin so com-
fortable that all our anticipations of the primitive modes of
travel were banished at once. As men not ashamed of our
health, we had decided to omit the sheets and pillow-cases,
and let the tooth-brush answer as an evidence of our high
civilization ; but the broad divans and velvet cushions of
the cabin brought us back to luxury in spite of ourselves.
The captain, smoothly shaven and robust, as befitted his
station, English in all but his eyes, which were thoroughly
Russian, gave us a cordial welcome in passable French.
P. drove up presently, and the crowd on the floating pie?
A CBUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 25
rapidly increased, as the moment of departure approached.
Our fellow-pilgrims were mostly peasants and deck-passen-
gers : two or three officers, and a score of the bourgeois,
were divided, according to their means, between the first
and second cabins. There were symptoms of crowding, and
we hastened to put in preemption-claims for the bench on
the port side, distributing our travelling sacks and pouches
along it, as a guard against squatters. The magic promise
of na cha/i (something to buy tea with) further inspired the
waiters with a peculiar regard for our interest, so that
leaving our important possessions in their care, we went on
deck to witness the departure.
By this time the Finnish sailors were hauling in the
slack hawsers, and the bearded stevedores on the floating
quay tugged at the gangway. Many of our presumed pas-
sengers had only come to say good-bye, which they were
now waving and shouting from the shore. The rain fell
dismally, and a black, hopeless sky settled down upon the
Neva. But the Northern summer, we knew, is as fickle as
the Southern April, and we trusted that Sergius and Herr-
mann, the saints of Valaam, would smooth for us the rugged
waters of Ladoga. At last the barking little bell ceased
to snarl at the tardy pilgrims. The swift current swung
our bow into the stream, and, as we moved away, the crowd
on deck uncovered their heads, not to the bowing friends
on the quay, but to the spire of a church which rose to
view behind the houses fronting the Neva. Devoutly cross-
ing themselves with the joined three fingers, symbolical
of the Trinity, they doubtless murmured a prayer for the
propitious completion of the pilgrimage, to which, I am
sure, we could have readily echoed the amen.
The Valamo was particularly distinguished, on this oc-
casion, by a flag at the fore, carrying the white Greek cross
on a red field. This proclaimed her mission as she passed
along, and the bells of many a little church pealed God
26 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
speed to her and her passengers. The latter, in spite of
the rain, thronged the deck, and continually repeated their
devotions to the shrines on either bank. On the right, the
starry domes of the Smolnoi, rising from the lap of a linden-
grove, flashed upon us ; then, beyond the long front of the
college of demoiselles nobles and the military store-houses,
we hailed the silver hemispheres which canopy the tomb
and shrine of St Alexander of the Neva. On the left,
huge brick factories pushed back the gleaming groves of
birch, which flowed around and between them, to dip their
hanging boughs in the river ; but here and there peeped
out the bright green cupolas of some little church, none of
which, I was glad to see, slipped out of the panorama with-
out its share of reverence.
For some miles we sailed between a double row of con-
tiguous villages a long suburb of the capital, which
stretched on and on, until the slight undulations of the
shore showed that we had left behind us the dead level of
the Ingrian marshes. It is surprising what an interest one
takes in the slightest mole-hill, after living for a short time
on a plain. You are charmed with an elevation which en-
ables you to look over your neighbor's hedge. I once heard
a clergyman, in his sermon, assert that " the world was per-
fectly smooth before the fall of Adam, and the present in-
equalities in its surface were the evidences of human sin."
I was a boy at the tune, and I thought to myself, " How
fortunate it is that we are sinners ! " Peter the Great, how-
ever, had no choice left him. The piles he drove in these
marshes were the surest foundation of his empire.
The Neva, in its sudden and continual windings, in its
clear, cold, sweet water, and its fringing groves of birch,
maple, and alder, compensates, in a great measure, for the
flatness of its shores. It has not the slow magnificence of
the Hudson or the rush of the Rhine, but carries with it ft
sense of power, of steady, straightforward force, like that
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 27
of the ancient warriors who disdained all clothing except
their swords. Its river-god is not even crowned with reeds,
but the full flow of his urn rolls forth undiminished by
summer and unchecked beneath its wintry lid. Outlets of
large lakes frequently exhibit this characteristic, and the
impression they make upon the mind does not depend on
the scenery through which they flow. Nevertheless, we dis-
covered many points, the beauty of which was not blotted
out by rain and cloud, and would have shone freshly and
winningly under the touch of the sun. On the north bank
there is a palace of Potemkin (or Potchdmkin, as his
name is pronounced in Russian), charmingly placed at a
bend, whence it looks both up and down the river. The
gay color of the building, as of most of the datchas, or
country-villas, in Russia, makes a curious impression upon
the stranger. Until he has learned to accept it as a portion
of the landscape, the effect is that of a scenic design on the
part of the builder. These dwellings, these villages and
churches, he thinks, are scarcely intended to be permanent :
they were erected as part of some great dramatic spectacle,
which has been, or is to be, enacted under the open sky.
Contrasted with the sober, matter-of-fact aspect of dwell-
ings in other countries, they have the effect of temporary
decorations. But when one has entered within those walls
of green and blue and red arabesques, inspected their
thickness, viewed the ponderous porcelain stoves, tasted,
perhaps, the bountiful cheer of the owner, he realizes their
palpable comforts, and begins to suspect that all the exter-
nal adornment is merely an attempt to restore to Nature
that coloring of which she is stripped by the cold sky of
the North.
A little further on, there is a summer villa of the Empress
Catharine a small, modest building, crowning a sir pe of
green turf. Beyond this, the banks are draped with foliage,
and the thinly clad birches, with their silver stems, shiver
above the rush of the waters. We, also, began to sbivei
28 BY-WAYS OF EUBOPE.
trader the steadily falling rain, and retreated to the cabin
on the steward's first hint of dinner. A table d'hote of four
courses was promised us, including the preliminary zakouski
and the supplementary coffee all for sixty copeks, which
is about forty-five cents. The zakcuski is an arrangement
peculiar to Northern countries, and readily adopted by for-
eigners. In Sweden it is called the smorgas, or " butter-
goose," but the American term (if we had the custom) would
be " the whetter." On a side-table there are various plates
of anchovies, cheese, chopped onions, raw salt herring, and
bread, all in diminutive slices, while glasses of corresponding
size surround a bottle of kiimmel, or cordial of caraway-
seed. This, at least, was the zakouski on board the Valamo,
and to which our valiant captain addressed himself, after
first bowing and crossing himself towards the Byzantine
Christ and Virgin in either corner of the cabin. We, of
course, followed his example, finding our appetites, if not
improved, certainly not at all injured thereby. The dinner
which followed far surpassed our expectations. The nation-
al shchee, or cabbage-soup, is better than the sound of its
name ; the fish, fresh from the cold Neva, is sure to be well
cooked where it forms an important article of diet ; and the
partridges were accompanied by those plump little Russian
cucumbers, which are so tender and flavorous that they
deserve to be called fruit rather than vegetables.
When we went on deck to light our Riga cigars, the
boat was approaching Schliisselburg, at the outlet of the
lake. Here the Neva, just born, sweeps in two broad arms
around the island which bears the Key-fortress the key
bj which Peter opened this river-door to the Gulf of Fin-
laud. The pretty town of the same name is on the south
bank, and in the centre of its front yawn the granite gates
of the canal which, for a hundred versts, skirts the southern
shore of the lake, forming, with the Volkhoff River and
O'
another canal beyond, a summer communication with the
vast regions watered by the Volga and its affluents. The
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 29
Ladoga Canal, by which the heavy barges laden with hemp
from Mid-Russia, and wool from the Ural, and wood from
the Valdai Hills, avoid the sudden storms of the lake, was
also the work of Peter the Great. I should have gone on
shore to inspect the locks, but for the discouraging persist-
ence of the rain. Huddled against the smoke-stack, we
could do nothing but look on the draggled soldiers and
nujiks splashing through the mud, the low yellow fortress,
which has long outlived its importance, and the dark-gray
waste of lake which loomed in front, suggestive of rough
water and kindred abominations.
There it was, at last, Lake Ladoga, and now oui
prow turns to unknown regions. We steamed past the
fort, past a fleet of brigs, schooners, and brigantines, with
huge, rounded stems and sterns, laden with wood from the
Wolkonskoi forests, and boldly entered the gray void of
fog and rain. The surface of the lake was but slightly
agitated, as the wind gradually fell and a thick mist settled
on the water. Hour after hour passed away, as we rushed
onward through the blank, and we naturally turned to our
fellow-passengers in search of some interest or diversion
to beguile the time. The heavy-bearded peasants and their
weather-beaten wives were scattered around the deck in
various attitudes, some of the former asleep on their backs,
with open mouths, beside the smoke-stack. There were
many picturesque figures among them, and, if I possessed
the quick pencil of Kaulbach, I might have filled a dozen
leaves of my sketch-book. The bourgeoisie were huddled
on the quarter-deck benches, silent, and fearful of sea-sick-
ness. But a very bright, intelligent young officer turned
up, who had crossed the Ural, and was able to entertain us
with an account of the splendid sword-blades of Zlatdoust
He was now on his way to the copper mines of Pitkaranda,
on the northeastern shore of the lake.
About nine o'clock in the evening, although still before
unset, the fog began to darken, and T was apprehensive
80 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
that we should have some difficulty in finding the island of
Konewitz, which was to be our stopping-place for the night
The captain ordered the engine to be slowed, and brought
forward a brass half-pounder, about a foot long, which was
charged and fired. In less than a minute after the report,
the sound of a deep solemn bell boomed in the mist, dead
nhead. Instantly every head was uncovered, and the rustle
of whispered prayers fluttered over the deck, as the pil-
grims bowed and crossed themselves. Nothing was to be
seen ; but, stroke after stroke, the hollow sounds, muffled
and blurred in the opaque atmosphere, were pealed out by
the guiding bell. Presently a chime of smaller bells joined
in a rapid accompaniment, growing louder and clearer as
we advanced. The effect was startling. After voyaging
for hours over the blank water, this sudden and solemn
welcome, sounded from some invisible tower, assumed a
mystic and marvelous character. Was it not rather the
bells of a city, ages ago submerged, and now sending its
ghostly summons up to the pilgrims passing over its crystal
grave?
Finally a tall mast, its height immensely magnified by
the fog, could be distinguished ; then the dark hulk of a
steamer, a white gleam of sand through the fog, indistinct
outlines of trees, a fisherman's hut, and a landing-place.
The bells still rang out- from some high station near at
hand, but unseen. We landed as soon as the steamer had
made fast, and followed the direction of the sound. A few
paces from the beach stood a little chapel, open, and with
a lamp burning before its brown Virgin and Child. Here
our passengers stopped, and made a brief prayer before
going on. Two or three beggars, whose tattered dresses
of tow suggested the idea of their having clothed them-
selves with the sails of shipwrecked vessels, bowed before
us so profoundly and reverently Chat we at first feared they
had mistaken us for the shrines. Following an avenue of
trees, up a gentle eminence, the tall white towers and green
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 31
domes of a stately church gradually detached themselves
from the mist, and we found ourselves at the portal of the
monastery. A group of monks, in the usual black robes,
and high, cylindrical caps of crape, the covering of which
overlapped and fell upon their shoulders, were waiting, ap-
parently to receive visitors. Recognizing us as foreigners,
they greeted us with great cordiality, and invited us to take
up our quarters for the night in the house appropriated to
guests. We desired, however, to see the church before the
combined fog and twilight should make it too dark ; so a
benevolent old monk led the way, hand in hand with P.,
across the court-yard.
The churches of the Greek faith present a general re-
semblance in their internal decorations. There is a glitter
of gold, silver, and flaring colors in the poorest. Statues
are not permitted, but the pictures of dark Saviours and
saints are generally covered with a drapery of silver, with
openings for the head and hands. Konewitz, however-
boasts of a special sanctity, in possessing the body of Saint
Arsenius, the founder of the monastery. His remains are
inclosed in a large coffin of silver, elaborately chased. It
was surrounded, as we entered, by a crowd of kneeling
pilgrims ; the tapers burned beside it, and at the various
altars ; the air was thick with incense, and the great bell
still boomed from the misty tower. Behind us came a
throng of our own deck-passengers, who seemed to recog-
nize the proper shrines by a sort of devotional instinct, and
were soon wholly absorbed in their prayers and prostra-
tions. It is very evident to me that the Russian race still
requires the formulas of the Eastern Church ; a fondness
for symbolic ceremonies and observances is far more nat-
ural to its character than to the nations of Latin or Saxon
blood. In Southern Europe the peasant will exchange
merry salutations while dipping his fingers in the ho'y
water, or turn in the midst of his devotions to inspect a
Stranger ; but the Russian, at such times, appears lost fo
82 BY-WAYS OF EUBOPE.
the world. With his serious eyes fixed on the shrine or
picture, or, maybe, the spire of a distant church, his face
suddenly becomes rapt and solemn, and no lurking interest
in neighboring things interferes with its expression.
One of the monks, who spoke a little French, took us
into his cell. He was a tall, frail man of thirty-five, with a
wasted face, and brown hair flowing over his shoulders, like
most of his brethren of the same age. In those sharp,
earnest features, one could see that the battle was not yet
over. The tendency to corpulence does not appear until
after the rebellious passions have been either subdued, or
pacified by compromise. The cell was small, but neat and
cheerful, on the ground floor, with a window opening on
the court, and a hard, narrow pallet against the wall.
There was also a little table, with books, sacred pictures,
and a bunch of lilacs in water. The walls were white-
washed, and the floor cleanly swept. The chamber was
austere, certainly, but in no wise repulsive.
It was now growing late, and only the faint edges of the
twilight glimmered overhead, through the fog. It was not
night, but a sort of eclipsed day, hardly darker than our
winter days under an overcast sky. We returned to the
tower, where an old monk took us in charge. Beside the
monastery is a special building for guests, a room in which
was offered to us. It was so clean and pleasant, and the
three broad sofa-couches with leather cushions looked so
inviting, that we decided to sleep there, in preference to
the crowded cabin. Our supply of shawls, moreover, en-
abled us to enjoy the luxury of undressing. Before saying
good-night, the old monk placed his hand upon R.'s head.
" We have matins at three o'clock," said he ; " when you
hear the bell, get up, and come to the church : it will bring
blessing to you." We were soon buried in a slumber
which lacked darkness to make it profound. At two
o'clock the sky was so bright that I thought it six, and feil
asleep again, determined to make three hours before I
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADC f A. 83
stopped. But presently the big bell began to swing
Stroke after stroke, it first aroused, but was fast lulling rne,
when the chimes struck in and sang all manner of inco-
herent and undevout lines. The brain at last grew wearv
of this, when, close to our door, a little, petulant, impatient
bell commenced barking for dear life. R. muttered and
twisted in his sleep, and brushed away the sound several
times from his upper ear, while I covered mine but to
no purpose. The sharp, fretful jangle went through shawls
and cushions, and the fear of hearing it more distinctly
prevented me from rising for matins. Our youth, also,
missed his promised blessing, and so we slept until the sun
was near five hours high that is, seven o'clock.
The captain promised to leave for Kexholm at eight,
which allowed us only an hour for a visit to the Konkamen,
or Horse Rock, distant a mile, in the woods. P. engaged
as guide a long-haired acolyte, who informed us that he
had formerly been a lithographer in St. Petersburg. We
did not ascertain the cause of his retirement from the
world : his features were too commonplace to suggest a
romance. Through the mist, which still hung heavy on
the lake, we plunged into the fir- wood, and hurried on over
its uneven carpet of moss and dwarf whortleberries. Small
gray boulders then began to crop out, and gradually
became so thick that the trees thrust them aside as they
grew. All at once the wood opened on a rye-field belong-
ing to the monks, and a short turn to the right brought us
to a huge rock, of irregular shape, about forty feet in diam-
eter by twenty in height. The crest overhung the base on
all sides except one, up which a wooden staircase led to a
small square chapel perched upon the summit.
The legends attached to this rock are various, but the
most authentic seems to be, that in the ages when the
Carelians were still heathen, they were accustomed to
place their cattle upon this island in summer, as a protec-
tion against the wolves, first sacrificing a horse upon th
84 BY-WAYS 3F EUROPE.
rock. Whether their deity was the Perun of the ancient
Russians or the Jumala of the Finns is not stated ; the in-
habitants at the present day say, of course, the Devil.
The name of the rock may also be translated " Petrified
Horse," and some have endeavored to make out a resem-
blance to that animal, in its form. Our acolyte, for in-
stance, insisted thereupon, and argued very logically
" Why, if you omit the head and legs, you must see that it
is exactly like a horse." The peasants say that the devil
had his residence in the stone, and point to a hole which
he made, on being forced by the exorcisms of Saint Arse-
nius to take his departure. A reference to the legend is
also indicated in the name of the island, Konewitz, which
our friend, the officer, gave to me in French as Ohevalise,
or, in literal English, The Horsefied.
The stones and bushes were dripping from the visitation
of the mist, and the mosquitoes were busy with my face
and hands while T made a rapid drawing of the place.
The quick chimes of the monastery, through which we
fancied we could hear the warning boat-bell, suddenly
pierced through the forest, recalling us. The Valamo had
her steam up, when we arrived, and was only waiting for
her rival, the Letuchie (Flyer), to get out of our way. As
we moved from the shqre, a puff of wind blew away the
fog, and the stately white monastery, crowned with its
bunch of green domes, stood for a moment clear and bright
in the morning sun. Our pilgrims bent, bareheaded, in
devotional farewell ; the golden crosses sparkled an an-
swer, and the fog rushed down again like a falling curtain.
We steered nearly due north, making for Kexholm
formerly a frontier Swedish town, at the mouth of the
Ri v er Wuoxen. For four hours it was a tantalizing strug-
gle between mist and sunshine a fair blue sky overhead,
and a dense cloud sticking to the surface of the lake. The
western shore, though near at hand, was not visible ; but
our captain, with his usual skill, came within a quarter of
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 3ft
a mile of the channel leading to the landing-place. The
fog seemed to consolidate into the outline of trees ; hard
land was gradually formed, as we approached ; and as the
two river-shores finally inclosed us, the air cleared, and
long, wooded hills arose in the distance. Before us lay a
single wharf, with three wooden buildings leaning against
a hill of sand.
" But where is Kexholm ? "
" A verst inland," says the captain ; " and I will give you
just half an hour to see it."
There were a score of peasants, with clumsy two-wheeled
carts and shaggy ponies at the landing. Into one of these
we clambered, gave the word of command, and were
whirled off at a gallop. There may have been some elas-
ticity in the horse, but there certainly was none in the cart.
It was a perfect conductor, and the shock with which i
passed over stones and leaped ruts was instantly communi-
cated to the os sacrum, passing thence along the vertebrae,
to discharge itself in the teeth. Our* driver was a sun-
burnt Finn, who was bent upon performing his share of
the contract, in order that he might afterwards, with a bet-
ter face, demand a ruble. On receiving just the half, how-
ever, he put it into his pocket, without a word of remon-
strance.
" Suomi f " I asked, calling up a Finnish word with an
effort.
" Suomi-ldinen" he answered, proudly enough, though
the exact meaning is, " I am a Swamplander."
Kexholm, which was founded in 1295, has attained since
then a population of several hundreds. Grass grows
between the cobble-stones of its broad streets, but the
houses are altogether so bright, so clean, so substantially
comfortable, and the geraniums and roses peeping out
between snowy curtains in almost every window suggested
such cozy interiors, that I found myself quite attracted
towards the plain little town. " Here," said I to P., " is
36 BY-WAYS OF EUROl'K.
flook which is really out of the world. No need of a raon
astery, where you have such perfect seclusion, and the in.
dispensable solace of natural society to make it endurable."
Pleasant faces occasionally looked out, curiously, at the
impetuous strangers : had they known our nationality, I
fancy the whole population would have run together.
Reaching the last house, nestled among twinkling birch-
trees on a bend of the river beyond, we turned about and
made for the fortress another conquest of the Great
Peter. Its low ramparts had a shabby, neglected look ; an
old draw-bridge spanned the moat, and there was no senti-
nel to challenge us as we galloped across. In and out
again, and down the long, quiet street, and over the jolting
level to the top of the sand hill we had seen Kexholm in
half an hour.
At the mouth of the river still lay the fog, waiting for us,
now and then stretching a ghostly arm over the woods
and then withdrawing it, like a spirit of the lake, longing
and yet timid to embrace the land. With the Wuoxen
came down the waters of the Saima, that great, irregular
lake, which, with its innumerable arms, extends for a hun-
dred and fifty miles into the heart of Finland, clasping the
forests and mountains of Savolax, where the altar-stones
of Jumala still stand in -the shade of sacred oaks, and the
song of the Kalewala is sung by the descendants of
Wamamoinen. I registered a vow to visit those Finnish
solitudes, as we shot out upon the muffled lake, heading for
the holy isles of Valaam. This was the great point of in
torest in our cruise, the shrine of our pilgrim-passengers
We had heard so little of these islands before leaving St.
Petersburg, and so much since, that our curiosity ras
keenly excited ; and thus, though too well seasoned bj ex-
perience to worry unnecessarily, the continuance of the
fog began to disgust us. We shall creep along as yester-
day, said we, and have nothing of Valaam .but the sound
of its bells. The air was intensely raw ; the sun had dis-
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 37
appeared, and the bearded peasants again slept, with open
mouths, on the deck.
Saints Sergius and Herrmann, however, were not indf-
ferent either to them or to us. About the middle of the
afternoon we suddenly and unexpectedly sailed out of the
fog, passing, in the distance of a ship's length, into a clear
atmosphere, with a far, sharp horizon ! The nuisance of
the lake lay behind us, a steep, opaque, white wall. Before
us, rising in bold cliffs from the water and dark with pines,
were the islands of Valaam. Off went hats and caps, and
the crowd on deck bent reverently towards the consecrated
shores. As we drew near, the granite fronts of the sepa-
rate isles detached themselves from the plane in which
they were blended, and thrust boldly out between the divid-
ing inlets of blue water ; the lighter green of birches and
maples mingled with the sombre woods of coniferae ; but the
picture, with all its varied features, was silent and lonely.
No sail shone over the lake, no boat was hauled up between
the tumbled masses of rock, no fisher's hut sat in the shel-
tered coves only, at the highest point of the cliff, a huge
wooden cross gleamed white against the trees.
As we drew around to the northern shore, point came out
behind point, all equally bold with rock, dark with pines,
and destitute of any sign of habitation. We were looking
forward, over the nearest headland, when, all at once, a
sharp glitter through the tops of the pines struck our eyes.
A few more turns of the paddles, and a bulging dome of
gold flashed splendidly in the sun ! Our voyage, thus far.
had been one of surprises, and this was not the least.
Crowning a slender, pointed roof, its connection with the
latter was not immediately visible : it seemed to spring
into the air and hang there, like a marvelous meteor shot
from the sun. Presently, however, the whole building ap-
peared, an hexagonal church, of pale -red brick, the
architecture of which was an admirable reproduction of the
older Byzantine forms. It stood upon a rocky islet, on
88 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
either side of which a narrow channel communicated with
a deep cove, cleft between walls of rock.
Turning in towards the first of these channels, we pres
ently saw the inlet of darkest-blue water, pushing its way
into the heart of the island. Crowning its eastern bank,
and about half a mile distant, stood an immense mass of
buildings, from the centre of which tall white towers and
green cupolas shot up against the sky. This was the mon-
astery of Valaam. Here, in the midst of this lonely lake.
on the borders of the Arctic Zone, in the solitude of un-
hewn forests, was one of those palaces which religion is so
fond of rearing, to show her humility. In the warm after-
noon sunshine, and with the singular luxuriance of vege-
tation which clothed the terraces of rock on either hand,
we forgot the high latitude, and, but for the pines in the
rear, could have fancied ourselves approaching some cove
of Athos or Euboea. The steamer ran so near the rocky
walls that the trailing branches of the birch almost swept
her deck ; every ledge traversing their gray, even ma-
sonry, was crowded with wild red pinks, geranium, saxi-
frage, and golden-flowered purslane ; and the air, wonder-
fully pure and sweet in itself, was flavored with delicate
woodland odors. On the other side, under the monastery,
was an orchard of large apple-trees in full bloom, on a
shelf near the water ; above them grew huge oaks and
maples, heavy with their wealth of foliage ; and over the
tops of these the level coping of the precipice, with a bal-
ustrade upon which hundreds of pilgrims, who had arrived
before us, were leaning and looking down.
Beyond this point, the inlet widened into a basin where
the steamer had room to turn around. Here we found
some forty or fifty boats moored to the bank, while the
passengers they had brought (principally from the eastern
shore of the lake, and the district lying between it and
Onega) were scattered over the heights. . The captain
pointed out to us a stately, two-story brick edifice, some
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 31
three hundred feet long, flanking the monastery, as the
house for guests. Another of less dimensions, on the hill
in front of the landing-place, appeared to be appropriated
especially to the use of the peasants. A rich succession of
musical chimes pealed down to us from the belfry, as if in
welcome, and our deck- load of pilgrims crossed themselves
in reverent congratulation as they stepped upon the sacred
soil.
We had determined to go on with our boat to Serdopol,
at the head of the lake, returning the next morning in
season for the solemnities of the anniversary. Postponing
therefore, a visit to the church and monastery, we climbed
to the summit of the bluff, and beheld the inlet in all its
length and depth, from the open, sunny expanse of the
lake to the dark strait below us. where the overhanging
trees of the opposite cliffs almost touched above the water.
The honeyed bitter of lilac and apple blossoms in the
garden below steeped the air ; and as I inhaled the scent,
and beheld the rich green crowns of the oaks which grew
at the base of the rocks, I appreciated the wisdom of Ser-
gius and Herrmann that led them to pick out this bit of
privileged summer, which seems to have wandered into the
North from a region ten degrees nearer the sun. It is not
strange if the people attribute miraculous powers to them,
naturally mistaking the cause of their settlement on Va-
laam for its effect.
The deck was comparatively deserted, as we once more
entered the lake. There were two or three new passen
gers, however, one of whom inspired me with a mild inter-
est. He was a St. Petersburger, who according to his own
account, had devoted himself to Art, and, probably for
that reason, felt constrained to speak in the language of
sentiment. " I enjoy above all things," said he to me
" communion with Nature. My soul is uplifted, when I
find myself removed from the haunts of men. I live an
idtfe/ life, and the world grows more beautiful to me every
40 BY-WAYS OP EUROPE.
/ear." Now there was nothing objectionable in this, ex
cept the manner of his saying it. Those are only shallow
emotions which one imparts to every stranger at the slight-
est provocation. Your true lover of Nature is as careful
of betraying his passion as the young man who carries a
first love in his heart. But my companion evidently de-
lighted in talking of his feelings on this point. His voice
was soft and silvery, his eyes gentle, and his air languish
ing ; so that, in spite of a heavy beard, the impression he
made was remarkably smooth and unmasculine. I invol-
untarily turned to one of the young Finnish sailors, with
his handsome, tanned face, quick, decided movements, and
clean, elastic limbs, and felt, instinctively, that what we most
value in every man, above even culture or genius, is the
stamp of sex the asserting, self-reliant, conquering air
which marks the male animal.
After some fifteen or twenty miles from the island, we
approached the rocky archipelago in which the lake ter-
minates at its northern end a gradual transition from
water to land. Masses of gray granite, wooded wherever
the hardy northern firs could strike root, rose on all sides,
divided by deep and narrow channels. " This is the scheer,"
said our captain, using a word which recalled to my mind,
at once, the Swedish skdr, and the English skerry, used
alike to denote a coast-group of rocky islets. The rock
encroached more and more as we advanced ; and finally,
as if sure of its victory over the lake, gave place, here and
there, to levels of turf, gardens, and cottages. Then fol
lowed a calm, land-locked basin, surrounded with harvest-
fields, and the spire of Serdopol arose before us.
Of this town I may report that it is called, in Finnish,
Sordovala, and was founded about the year 1640. Its his-
tory has no doubt been very important to its inhabitants,
but I do not presume that it would be interesting to the
world, and therefore spare myself a great deal of laborious
research. Small as it is, and so secluded that Ladogt
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 41
seems a world's highway in comparison with its quiet
harbor, it nevertheless holds three races and three lan-
guages in its modest bounds. The government and its
tongue are Russian ; the people are mostly Finnish, with
a very thin upper-crust of Swedish tradition, whence the
latter language is cultivated as a sign of aristocracy.
We landed on a broad wooden pier, and entered the
town through a crowd which was composed of all these
elements. There was to be a fair on the morrow, and from
the northern shore of the lake, as well as the wild inland
region towards the Saima, the people had collected for
trade, gossip, and festivity. Children in ragged garments
of hemp, bleached upon their bodies, impudently begged
for pocket-money ; women in scarlet kerchiefs curiously
scrutinized us ; peasants carried bundles of freshly mown
grass to the horses which were exposed for sale ; ladies
with Hungarian hats, crushed their crinolines into queer
old cabriolets ; gentlemen with business faces and an as-
pect of wealth smoked paper cigars ; and numbers of
hucksters offered baskets of biscuit and cakes, of a disa-
greeable yellow color and great apparent toughness. It
was a repetition, with slight variations, of a village fair any-
where else, or an election day in America.
Passing through the roughly paved and somewhat dirty
streets, past shops full of primitive hardware, groceries
which emitted powerful whiffs of salt fish or new leather,
bakeries with crisp padlocks of bread in the windows,
drinking-houses plentifully supplied with qvass and vodlci.
and, finally, the one watch-maker, and the vender of paper,
pens, and Finnish almanacs, we reached a broad suburban
street, whose substantial houses, with their courts and
gardens, hinted at the aristocracy of Serdopol. The inn,
with its Swedish sign, was large and comfortable, and a
peep into the open windows disclosed as pleasant quarters
as a traveller :ould wish. A little farther the town ceased,
and we found ourselves upon a rough, sloping common, at
42 BY-WA^S OF EUROPE.
the top of which stood the church with its neighboring
belfry. It was unmistakably Lutheran in appearance,
very plain and massive and sober in color, with a steep
roof for shedding snow. The only attempt at ornament
was a fanciful shingle-mosaic, but in pattern only, not in
color. Across the common ran a double row of small
booths, which had just been erected for the coming fair ;
and sturdy young fellows from the country, with their rough
carts and shaggy ponies, were gathering along the high-
way, to skirmish a little in advance of their bargains.
The road enticed us onwards into the country. On our
left, a long slope descended to an upper arm of the harbor,
the head of which we saw to be near at hand. The op-
posite shore was fairly laid out in grain-fields, through
which cropped out, here and there, long walls of granite,
rising higher and higher towards the west, until they cul-
minated in the round, hard forehead of a lofty hill. There
was no other point within easy reach which promised much
of a view ; so, rounding the head of the bay, we addressed
ourselves to climbing the rocks, somewhat to the surprise
of the herd-boys, as they drove their cows into the town to
be milked.
Once off the cultivated land, we found the hill a very
garden of wild blooms. Every step and shelf of the rocks
was cushioned with tricolored violets, white anemones, and
a succulent, moss-like plant with a golden flower. Higher
up there were sheets of fire-red pinks, and on the summit
an unbroken carpet of the dwarf whortleberry,. with its
waxen bells. Light exhalations seemed to rise from the
damp hollows, and drift towards us ; but they resolved
themselves into swarms of mosquitoes, and would have
made the hill-top untenable, had they not been dispersed
by a sudden breeze. We sat down upon a rock and con-
templated the wide-spread panorama. It was nine o'clock,
and the sun, near his setting, cast long gleams of pale
light ihrough the clouds, scftening the green of the fieldf
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 48
and forests where they fell, and turning the moist evening
haze into lustrous pearl. Inlets of the lake here and there
crept in between the rocky hills ; broad stretches of
gently undulating grain-land were dotted with the houses,
barns, and clustered stables of the Finnish farmers ; in the
distance arose the smokes of two villages ; and beyond all,
as we looked inland, ran the sombre ridges of the fir-clad
hills. Below us, on the right, the yellow houses of the
town shone in the subdued light, the only bright spot in
the landscape, which elsewhere seemed to be overlaid with
a tint of dark, transparent gray. It was wonderfully silent
Not a bird twittered ; no bleat of sheep or low of cattle
was heard from the grassy fields ; no shout of children, or
evening hail from the returning boats of the fishers. Ovei
all the land brooded an atmosphere of sleep, of serene,
perpetual peace. To sit and look upon it was in itself a
refreshment like that of healthy slumber. The restless
devil which lurks in the human brain was quieted for the
time, and we dreamed knowing all the while the vanity
of the dream of a pastoral life in some such spot, among
as ignorant and simple-hearted a people, ourselves as un-
troubled by the agitations of the world.
We had scarce inhaled or, rather, insuded, to coin a
word for a seusation which seems to enter at every pore
the profound quiet and its suggestive fancies for the space
of half an hour, when the wind fell at the going down of
the sun. and the humming mist of mosquitoes arose again.
Returning to the town, we halted at the top of the common
to watch the farmers of the neighborhood at their horse-
dealing. Very hard, keen, weather-browned faces had
they, eyes tight-set for the main chance, mouths worn thin
by biting farthings, and hands whose hard fingers crooked
with holding fast what they had earned. Faces almost of
the Yankee type, many of them, and relieved by the twink
ling of a humorous faculty or the wild gleam of imagina
lion. The shaggy little horses, of a dun or dull tan-color
44 BY-WAYS OF EUhOPE.
seemed to understand that their best performance flras re-
quired, and rushed up and down the road with an amazing
exhibition of mettle. I could understand nothing of the
Finnish tongue except its music ; but it was easy to per-
ceive that the remarks of the crowd were shrewd, intelli
gent, and racy. One young fellow, less observant, ac
costed us in the hope that we might be purchasers. The
boys, suspecting that we were as green as we were evi-
dently foreign, held out their hands for alms, with a very
unsuccessful air of distress, but readily succumbed to the
Russian interjection "proch I " (be off !) the repetition of
which, they understood, was a reproach.
That night we slept on the velvet couches of the cabin,
having the spacious apartment to ourselves. The bright
young officer had left for the copper mines, the pilgrims
were at Valaam, and our stout, benignant captain looked
upon us as his only faithful passengers. The stewards, in-
deed, carried their kindness beyond reasonable anticipa-
tions. They brought us real pillows and other con-
veniences, bolted the doors against nightly intruders, and
in the morning conducted us into the pantry, to wash our
faces in the basin sacred to dishes. After I had com-
pleted my ablutions, I turned dumbly, with dripping face
and extended hands, for a towel. My steward understood
the silent appeal, and, taking a napkin from a plate of
bread, presented it with alacrity. I made use of it, I con-
fess, but hastened out of the pantry, lest I should happen
to see it restored to its former place. How not to observe
is a faculty as necessary to the traveller as its reverse.
I was reminded of this truth at dinner, when I saw the
same steward take a napkin (probably my towel!) from
under his arm, to wipe both his face and a plate which he
carried. To speak mildly, these people on Lake Ladoga
are not sensitive in regard to the contact of individualities.
But the main point is to avoid seeing what you don't like.
We got off at an early hour, and hastened back to V
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 45
laam over glassy water and under a superb sky. This
time the lake was not so deserted, for the white wings j>f
pilgrim-boats drew in towards the dark island, making for
the golden sparkle of the chapel dome, which shone afar
like a light-house of the day-time. As we rounded to in
the land-locked inlet, we saw that the crowds on the hills
had doubled since yesterday, and, although the chimes
were pealing for sotne religious service, it seemed prudent
first to make sure of our quarters for the night. Accord-
ingly we set out for the imposing house of guests beside
the monastery, arriving in company with the visitors we
had brought with us from Serdopol. The entrance-hall
led into a long, stone-paved corridor, in which a monk, be-
wildered by many applications, appeared to be seeking re-
lief by promises of speedy hospitality. We put in our
plea, and also received a promise. On either side of the
corridor were numbered rooms, already occupied, the for-
tunate guests passing in and out with a provoking air of
comfort and unconcern. We ascended to the second story,
which was similarly arranged, and caught hold of another
benevolent monk, willing, but evidently powerless to help
us. Dinner was just about to be served; the brother in
authority was not there ; we must be good enough to wait
a little while ; would we not visit the shrines, in the
mean time ?
The advice was sensible, as well as friendly, and we fol-
lowed it. Entering the great quadrangle of the monas-
tery, we found it divided, gridiron-fashion, into long, nar-
row court-yards by inner lines of buildings. The central
court, however, was broad and spacious, the church occu-
pying a rise of ground on the eastern side. Hundreds of
men and women Carelian peasants thronged around
the entrance, crossing themselves in unison with the con-
gregation. The church, we found, was packed, and the
most zealous wedging among the blue caftans and shining
flaxen heads brought us no farther than the inner door.
46 BY-WAYS Oi EUROPE.
Thence we looked over a tufted level of heads that seemed
to touch intermingled tints of gold, tawny, sz7ver-blond ;
and the various shades of brown, touched with dim glosses
through the incense-smoke, and occasionally bending ir
concert, with an undulating movement, like grain before
the wind. Over these heads rose the vaulted nave, daz-
zling with gold and colors, and blocked up, beyond the in-
tersection of the transept, by the ikonostast, or screen
before the Holy of Holies, gorgeous with pictures of saints
overlaid with silver. In front of the screen the tapers
burned, the incense rose thick and strong, and the chant
of the monks gave a peculiar solemnity to their old Scla-
vonic litany. The only portion of it which I could under-
stand was the recurring response, as in the English Church,
of " Lord, have mercy upon us ! "
Extricating ourselves with some difficulty, we entered a
chapel-crypt, which contains the bodies of Sergius and
Herrmann. They lie together, in a huge coffin of silver,
covered with cloth of gold. Tapers of immense size burned
at the head and foot, and the pilgrims knelt around, bend-
ing their foreheads to the pavement at the close of their
prayers. Among others, a man had brought his insane
daughter, and it was touching to see the tender care with
which he led her to the coffin and directed her devotions.
So much of habit still remained, that it seemed, for the
time being, to restore her reason. The quietness and reg-
ularity with which she went through the forms of prayer,
brought a light of hope to the father's face. The other
peasants looked on with an expression of pity and sym-
pathy. The girl, we learned, had but recently lost her
reason, and without any apparent cause. She was be-
trothed to a joung man who was sincerely attached to her,
and the pilgrimage was undertaken in the hope that a mir-
acle might be wrought in her favor. The presence of
the shrine, indeed, struck its accustomed awe through her
wandering senses, but the effoct was only :.ionientary.
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 47
I approached the coffin, and deposited a piece of money
On the offering- pi ate, for the purpose of getting a glimpse
of the pictured faces of the saints, in their silver setting.
Their features were hard and regular, flatly painted, as if
by some forerunner of Cirnabue, but sufficiently modern to
make the likeness doubtful. I have not been able to obtain
the exact date of their settlement on the island, but I be-
lieve it is referred to the early part of the fifteenth century.
The common people believe that the island was first visited
by Andrew, the Apostle of Christ, who, according to the
Russian patriarch Nestor, made his way to Kiev and Nov-
gorod. The latter place is known to have been an impor-
tant commercial city as early as the fourth century, and
had a regular intercourse with Asia. The name of Valaam
O
does not come from Balaam, as one might suppose, but
seems to be derived from the Finnish varamo, which sig-
nifies " herring-ground." The more I attempted to unravel
the history of the island, the more it became involved in
obscurity, and this fact, I must confess, only heightened my
interest in it. I found myself ready to accept the tradition
of Andrew's visit, and I accepted without a doubt the grave
of King Magnus of Sweden.
On issuing from the crypt, we encountered a young
monk who had evidently been sent in search of us. The
mass was over, and the court-yard was nearly emptied of
its crowd. In the farther court, however, we found the
people more dense than ever, pressing forward towards a
small door. The monk made way for us with some diffi-
culty for, though the poor fellows did their best to fall
back, the pressure from the outside was tremendous
Having at last run the gauntlet, we found ourselves in the
refectory of the monastery, inhaling a thick steam of fisb
and cabbage. Three long tables were filled with monks
and pilgrims, while the attendants brought in the fish on
large wooden trenchers. The plates were of common wnite
ware, but the spoons were of wood- Officers in gay
48 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
forms were scattered among the dark anchorites, wno oc-
cupied one end of the table, while the bourgeoisie, with
here and there a blue-caftaned peasant wedged among
thorn, filled the other end. They were eating with great
zeal, while an old priest, standing, read from a Sclavonic
Bible. All eyes were turned upon us as we entered, and
there was not a vacant chair in which we could hide our
intrusion. It was rather embarrassing, especially as the
young monk insisted that we should remain, and the curious
eyes of the eaters as constantly asked, " Who are these,
and what do they want? " We preferred returning through
the hungry crowd, and made our way to the guests' house.
Here a similar process was going on. The corridors
were thronged with peasants of all ages and both sexes,
and the good fathers, more than ever distracted, were in-
capable of helping us. Seeing a great crowd piled up
against a rear basement-door, we descended the stairs, and
groped our way through manifold steams and noises to a
huge succession of kitchens, where cauldrons of cabbage
were bubbling, and shoals of fish went in raw and came
out cooked. In another room some hundreds of peasants
were eating with all the energy of a primitive appetite.
Soup leaked out of the bowls as if they had been sieves ;
fishes gave a whisk of the tail and vanished ; great round
boulders of bread went off, layer after layer, and still the
3mpty plates were held up for more. It was grand eating,
pure appetite, craving only food in a general sense : no
picking out of tidbits, no spying here and there for a fa-
vorite dish, but, like a huge fire, devouring everything that
came in its-way. The stomach was here a patient, unques-
tioning serf, not a master full of whims, requiring to be
petted and conciliated. So, I thought, people must have
eaten in the Golden Age : so Adam and Eve must have
dined, before the fall made them epicurean and dyspeptic.
We degenerate through culture found the steams of
the strong, coarse dishes rather unpleasant, and retreated
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 49
by a back way, which brought us to a spiral staircase. We
ascended for a long time, and finally emerged into the gar-
ret of the building, hot, close, and strawy as a barn-loft.
It was divided into rooms, in which, on the floors covered
deep with straw, the happy pilgrims who had finished theif
dinner were lying on their bellies, lazily talking themselves
to sleep. The grassy slope in front of the house, and all
the neighboring heights, were soon covered in like manner.
Men, women, and children threw themselves down, drawing
off their heavy boots, and dipping their legs, knee-deep,
into the sun and air. An atmosphere of utter peace and
satisfaction settled over them.
Being the only foreign and heterodox persons present,
we began to feel ourselves deserted, when the favor of Ser-
gius and Herrmann was again manifested. P. was suddenly
greeted by an acquaintance, an officer connected with the
Imperial Court, who had come to Valaam for a week of de-
votion. He immediately interested himself in our behalf,
procured us a room with a lovely prospect, transferred his
bouquet of lilacs and peonies to our table, and produced
his bottle of lemon-syrup to flavor our tea. The rules of
the monastery are very strict, and no visitor is exempt from
their observance. Not a fish can be caught, not a bird or
beast shot, no wine or liquor of any kind, nor tobacco in
any form, used on the island. Rigid as the organization
seems, it bears equally on every member of the brother-
hood : the equality upon which such associations were orig-
inally based is here preserved. The monks are only in
an ecclesiastical sense subordinate to the abbot. Other-
wise, the fraternity seems to be about as complete as in the
early days of Christianity.
The Valamo, and her rival, the Letuchie, had advertised
a trip to the Holy Island, the easternmost of the Valaam
group, some six miles from the monastery, and the weather
was so fair that both boats were crowded, many of the
monks accompanying us. Our new-found friend was also
4
50 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
of the party, and I made the acquaintance of a Finnish
student from the Lyceum at Kuopio. who gave me descrip-
tions of the Sauna Lake and the wilds of Savolax. Run-
ning eastward along the headlands, we passed Chernoi
Noss (Black-Nose), the name of which again recalled a
term common in the Orkneys and Shetlands noss, there,
signifying a headland. The Holy Island rose before us,
a circular pile of rock, crowned with wood, like a huge,
unfinished tower of Cyclopean masonry, built up out of the
deep water. Far beyond it, over the rim of the lake, glim-
mered the blue eastern shore. As we drew near, we found
that the tumbled fragments of rock had been arranged,
with great labor, to form a capacious foot-path around the
base of the island. The steamers drew up against this
narrow quay, upon which we landed, under a granite wall
which rose perpendicularly to the height of seventy or
eighty feet. The firs on the summit grew out to the very
edge and stretched their dark arms over us. Every cran-
ny of the rock was filled with tufts of white and pink
flowers, and the moisture, trickling from above, betrayed
itself in long lines of moss and fern.
I followed the pilgrims around to the sunny side of the
island, and found a wooden staircase at a point where the
wall was somewhat broken away. Reaching the top of the
first ascent, the sweet breath of a spring woodland breathed
around me. I looked under the broken roofage of the
boughs upon a blossoming jungle of shrubs and plants which
seemed to have been called into life by a more potent sun.
The lily of the valley, in thick beds, poured out the deli-
cious sweetness of its little cups ; spikes of a pale-green
orchis emitted a rich cinnamon odor ; anemones, geraniums,
sigillarias, and a feathery flower, white, freckled with pur-
ple, grew in profusion. The top of the island, five or six
acres in extent, was a slanting plane, looking to the south,
whence it received the direct rays of the sun. It was
an enchanting picture of woodland bloom, lighted with
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 51
sprinkled sunshine, in the cold blue setting of the lake,
which was visible on all sides, between the boles of the
trees. I hailed it as an idyl of the North a poetic
secret, which the earth, even where she is most cruelly
material and cold, still tenderly hides and cherishes.
A peasant, whose scarlet shirt flashed through the bushe?
like a sudden fire, seeing me looking at the flowers
gathered a handful of lilies, which he offered to me, saying,
" Prekrasnie" (beautiful). Without waiting for thanks, he
climbed a second flight of steps and suddenly disappeared
from view. I followed, and found myself in front of a nar-
row aperture in a rude wall, which had been built up under
an overhanging mass of rocks. A lamp was twinkling
within, and presently several persons crawled out, crossing
themselves and muttering prayers.
" What is this ? " asked a person who had just arrived.
" The cave of Alexander Svirski," was the answer.
Alexander of the Svir a river flowing from the Onega
Lake into Ladoga was a hermit who lived for twenty
years on the Holy Island, inhabiting the hole before us
through the long, dark, terrible winters, in a solitude
broken only when the monks of Valaam came over the ice
to replenish his stock of provisions. Verily, the hermits
of the Thebai'd were Sybarites, compared to this man !
There are still two or three hermits who have charge of
outlying chapels on the islands, and live wholly secluded
from their brethren. They wear dresses covered with
crosses and other symbols, and are considered as dead to
the world. The ceremony which consecrates them for
this service is that for the burial of the dead.
I managed, with some difficulty, to creep into Alexandei
Svirski's den. I saw nothing, however, but the old, smoky,
and sacred picture before which the lamp burned. The
rocky roof was so low that I could not stand upright, and
all the walls I could find were the bodies of pilgrims who
had squeezed \u before me. A confused whisper surrounded
52 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
me in the darkness, and the air was intolerably close, 1
therefore made my escape and mounted to the chapel, on
the highest part of the island. A little below it, an open
pavilion, with seats, has been built over the sacred spring
from which the hermit drank, and thither the pilgrims
thronged. The water was served in a large wooden bowl,
and each one made the sign of the cross before drinking.
By waiting for my turn I ascertained that the spring was
icy-cold, and very pure and sweet
I found myself lured to the highest cliff, whence I could
look out, through the trees, on the far, smooth disk of the
lake. Smooth and fair as the JEgean it lay before me, and
the trees were silent as olives at noonday on the shores of
Cos. But how different in color, in sentiment ! Here,
perfect sunshine can never dust the water with the purple
bloom of the South, can never mellow its hard, cold tint of
greenish-blue. The distant hills, whether dark or light,
are equally cold, and are seen too nakedly through the
crystal air to admit of any illusion. Bracing as is this
atmosphere, the gods could never breathe it. It would
revenge on the ivory limbs of Apollo his treatment of
Marsyas. No foam-born Aphrodite could rise warm from
yonder wave ; not even the cold, sleek Nereids could breast
its keen edge. We could only imagine it disturbed, tem-
porarily, by the bath -plunge of hardy Vikings, who must
have come out from it red and tingling from head to heel.
" Come ! " cried P., " the steamer is about to leave ! "
We all wandered down the steps, I with my lilies in my
hand. Even the rough peasants seemed reluctant to leave
the spot, and not wholly for the sake of Alexander Svirski.
We were all safely embarked and carried back to Valaam,
leaving the island to its solitude. Alexis (as I shall call
our Russian friend) put us in charge of a native artist who
knew every hidden beauty of Valaam, and suggested an
exploration of the inlet, while he went back to his devo-
tions. We borrowed a boat from the monks, and in*
A CfcUlSE ON LAKE LADOGA. 53
pressed a hardy fisherman into our service. I supposed
we had already seen the extent of the inlet, but on reach-
ing its head a narrow side-channel disclosed itself, passing
away under a quaint bridge and opening upon an inner
lake of astonishing beauty. The rocks were disposed in
every variety of grouping sometimes rising in even ter-
races, step above step, sometimes thrusting out a sheer
wall from the summit, or lying slantwise in masses split off
by the wedges of the ice. The fairy birches, in their thin
foliage, stood on the edge of the water like Dryads undress-
ing for a bath, while the shaggy male firs elbowed each
other on the heights for a look at them. Other channels
opened in the distance, with glimpses of other and as beau-
tiful harbors in the heart of the islands. " You may sail
for seventy-five versts," said the painter, " without seeing
them all."
The fearlessness of all wild creatures showed that the
rules of the good monks had been carefully obeyed. The
wild ducks swam around our boat, or brooded, in conscious
security, on their nests along the shore. Three great
herons, fishing in a shallow, rose slowly into the air and
flew across the water, breaking the silence with their hoarse
trumpet note. Further in the woods there are herds of
wild reindeer, which are said to have become gradually
tame. This familiarity of the animals took away from the
islands all that was repellent in their solitude. It half re-
stored the broken link between man and the subject forms
of life.
The sunset light was on the trees when we started, bu:
here in the North it is no fleeting glow. It lingers for
hours even, fading so imperceptibly that you scarcely know
when it has ceased. Thus, when we returned after a long
pull, craving the Lenten fare of the monastery, the same
soft gold tinted its clustering domes. We were not called
upon to visit the refectory, but a table was prepared in our
room. The first dish had the appearance of a salad, with
64 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
the accompaniment of black bread. On carefully tasting^
I discovered the ingredients to be raw salt fish chopped
fine, cucumbers, and beer. The taste of the first spoon*
ful was peculiar, of the second tolerable, of the third de-
cidedly palatable. Beyond this I did not go, for we had
fresh fish, boiled in enough water to make a soup. Then
the same, fried in its own fat, and, as salt and pepper were
allowed, we did not scorn our supper.
The next day was the festival of Peter and Paul, and
Alexis had advised us to make an excursion to a place
called Jelesniki. In the morning, however, we learned
that the monastery and its grounds were to be consecrated
in solemn procession. The chimes pealed out quick and
joyously, and soon a burst of banners and a cloud of in-
cense issued from the great gate. All the pilgrims
nearly two thousand in number thronged around the
double line of chanting monks, and it was found necessary
to inclose the latter in a hollow square, formed by a linked
chain of hands. As the morning sun shone on the bare-
headed multitude, the beauty of their unshorn hair struck
me like a new revelation. Some of the heads, of lustrous,
flossy gold, actually shone by their own light. It was
marvelous that skin so hard and coarse in texture should
produce such beautiful ha,ir. The beards of the men, also,
were strikingly soft and rich. They never shave, and thus
avoid bristles, the down of adolescence thickening into a
natural beard.
As the procession approached, Alexis, who was walking
behind the monks, inside the protecting guard, beckoned
to us to join him. The peasants respectfully made way,
two hands unlinked to admit us, and we became, unex-
pectedly, participants in the ceremonies. From the south
side the procession moved around to the east, where a litany
was again chanted. The fine voices of the monks lost but
little of their volume in the open air ; there was no wind,
and the tapers burned and the incense diffused itself, is in
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 56
the church. A sacred picture, which two monks carried
on a sort of litter, was regarded with particular reverence
by the pilgrims, numbers of whom crept under the line of
guards to snatch a moment's devotion before it At e\ery
pause in the proceedings there was a rush from all sides,
and the poor fellows who formed the lines held each other's
hands with s.11 their strength. Yet, flushed, sweating, and
exhausted as they were, the responsibility of their position
made them perfectly proud and happy. They were the
guardians of cross and shrine, of the holy books, the monks,
and the abbot himself.
From the east side we proceeded to the north, where
the dead monks sleep in their cemetery, high over the.
watery gorge. In one corner of this inclosure, under a
group of giant maples, is the grave of King Magnus of
Sweden, who is said to have perished by shipwreck on the
island. Here, in the deep shade, a solemn mass for the
dead was chanted. Nothing could have added to the im-
pressiveness of the scene. The tapers burning under the
thick-leaved boughs, the light smoke curling up in the
shade, the grave voices of the monks, the bending heads
of the beautiful-haired crowd, and the dashes of white,
pink, scarlet, blue, and gold in their dresses, made a pic-
ture the solemnity of which was only heightened by its
pomp of color. I can do no more than give the features ;
the reader must recombine them in his own mind.
The painter accompanied us to the place called Jelesniki,
which, after a walk of four miles through the forests, we
found to be a deserted village, with a chapel on a rocky
headland. There was a fine bridge across the dividing
strait, and the place may have been as picturesque as it
was represented. On that side of the islands, however,
there was a dense fog, and we could get no view beyond a
hundred yards. We had hoped to see reindeer in ihe
woods, and an eagle's nest, and various other curiosities ;
but where there was no fog there were mosquitoes, and
the search ber.ame discouraging.
06 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE.
On returning to the monastery, a register was brought
to us, in which, on looking back for several years, we could
find but one foreign visitor a Frenchman. We judged,
therefore, that the abbot would possibly expect us to call
upon him, and, indeed, the hospitality we had received ex-
acted it. We found him receiving visitors in a plain but
comfortable room, in a distant part of the building. He
was a man of fifty-five, frank and self-possessed in his man-
ners, and of an evident force and individuality of character.
His reception of the visitors, among whom was a lady, was
at once courteous and kindly. A younger monk brought
us glasses of tea. Incidentally learning that I had visited
the Holy Places in Syria, the abbot sent for some pictures
of the monastery and its chosen saints, which he asked me
to keep as a souvenir of Valaam. He also presented each
of us with a cake of unleavened bread, stamped with the
cross, and with a triangular piece cut out of the top, to
indicate the Trinity. On parting, he gave his hand, which
the orthodox visitors devoutly kissed. Before the steamer
sailed, we received fresh evidence of his kindness, in the
present of three large loaves of consecrated bread, and a
bunch of lilacs from the garden of the monastery.
Through some misunderstanding, we failed to dine in
the refectory, as the monks desired, and their hospitable
regret on this account was the only shade on our enjoy-
ment of the visit. Alexis remained, in order to complete
his devotions by partaking of the Communion on the fol-
lowing Sabbath ; but as the anniversary solemnities closed
at noon, the crowd of pilgrims prepared to return home.
The Valamo, too, sounded her warning bell, so we left the
monastery as friends where we had arrived as strangers,
and went on board. Boat after boat, gunwale-deep with
the gay Carelians, rowed down the inlet, and in the space
of half an hour but a few stragglers were left of all the
multitude. Some of the monks came down to say another
good-bye, and the under-abbot, blessing R., made the sign
of the cross upon his brow and breast.
A CRUISE )N LAKE LADOGA. 57
When we reached the golden dome of St. Nicholas, al
the outlet of the harbor, the boats had set their sails, and
the lake was no longer lonely. Scores of white wings
gleamed in the sun, as they scattered away in radii from
the central and sacred point, some north, some east, and
some veering south around Holy Island. Sergius and
Herrmann gave them smooth seas, and light, favorable
airs ; for the least roughness would have carried them,
overladen as they were, to the bottom. Once more the
bells of Valaam chimed farewell, and we turned the point
to the westward, steering back to Kexholm.
Late that night we reached our old moorage at Konewitz,
and on Saturday, at the appointed hour, landed in St.
Petersburg. We carried the white cross at the fore as we
descended the Neva, and the bells of the church^ .ilong
the banks welcomed our return. And now, as 1 recal.
those five days among the islands of the Northern Lake,
I see that it is good to go or. a pilgrimage, even if one \M
not a pi'.grim
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA.
" Pushed off from one shore, and not yet landed on the other."
Russian Proverb.
THE railroad from Moscow to Nijni-Novgorod had been
opened but a fortnight before. It was scarcely finished,
indeed ; for, in order to facilitate travel during the con-
tinuance of the Great Fair at the latter place, the gaps in
the line, left by unbuilt bridges, were filled up with tempo-
rary trestle-work. The one daily express-train was so
thronged that it required much exertion, and the freest use
of the Envoy's prestige, to secure a private carriage for our
party. The sun was sinking over the low, hazy ridge of
the Sparrow Hills as we left Moscow : and we enjoyed one
more glimpse of the inexhaustible splendor of the city's
thousand golden domes and pinnacles, softened by lumi-
nous smoke and transfigured dust, before the dark woods
of fir intervened, and the twilight sank down on cold and
lonely landscapes.
Thence, until darkness, there was nothing more to claim
attention. Whoever has seen one landscape of Central
Russia is familiar with three fourths of the whole region.
Nowhere else not even on the levels of Illinois are
the same features so constantly reproduced. One long ?
low swell of earth succeeds to another ; it is rare that any
other woods than birch and fir are seen ; the cleared land
presents a continuous succession of pasture, rye, wheat,
potatoes, and cabbages ; and the villages are as like as
peas, in their huts of unpainted logs, clustering around a
white church with five green domes. It is a monotony
which nothing but the richest culture can prevent from be-
coming tiresome. Culture is to Nature what good manners
are to man, rendering poverty of character endurable.
Stationing a servant at the door to prevent intrusion at
62 BY-WAYS OK EUROPE.
the way-stations, we let down the curtains before our win-
dows, and secured a comfortable privacy for the night,
whence we issued only once, during a halt for supper. I
entered the refreshment-room with very slender expecta
tions, but was immediately served with plump partridges,
tender cutlets, and green peas. The Russians made a
rash for the great samovar (tea-urn) of brass, which shone
from one end of the long table ; and presently each had
his tumbler of scalding tea, with a slice of lemon floating
on the top. These people drink beverages of a tempera-
ture which would take the skin off Anglo-Saxon mouths.
My tongue was more than once blistered, on beginning to
drink after they had emptied their glasses. There is no
station without its steaming samovar; and some persons,
I verily believe, take their thirty-three hot teas between
Moscow and St. Petersburg.
There is not much choice of dishes in the interior of
Russia ; but what one does get is sure to be tolerably good.
Even on the Beresina and the Dnieper I have always fared
better than at most of the places in our country where
" Ten minutes for refreshments ! " is announced day by day
and year by year. Better a single beef-steak, where ten-
derness is, than a stalled ox, all gristle and grease. But
then our cooking (for the public at least) is notoriously the
worst in the civilized world ; and I can safely pronounce
the Russian better, without commending it very highly.
Some time in the night we passed the large town of
Vladimir, and with the rising sun were well on our way to
the Volga. I pushed aside the curtains, and looked out,
to see what changes a night's travel had wrought in the
scenery. It was a pleasant surprise. On the right stood a
large, stately residence, embowered in gardens and orch-
ards ; while beyond it, stretching away to the southeast,
opened a broad, shallow valley. The sweeping hills on either
side were dotted with shocks of rye ; and their thousands
of acres of stubble shone like gold in the level rays. Herd*
BETWEEN EUROPE AND AS/A.
of cattle were pasturing in the meadows, and the peasants
(serfs no longer) were straggling out of the villages to their
labor in the fields. The crosses and polished domes of
churches sparkled on the horizon. Here the patches of
primitive forest were of larger growth, the trunks cleaner
and straighter, than we had yet seen Nature was half
conquered, in spite of the climate, and, for the first time
since leaving St. Petersburg, wore a habitable aspect. I
recognized some of the features of Russian country-life
which Puschkin describes so charmingly in his poem of
" Eugene Onagin."
The agricultural development of Russia has been greatly
retarded by the indifference of the nobility, whose vast
estates comprise the best land of the empire, in those prov-
inces where improvements might be most easily intro-
duced. Although a large portion of the noble families
pass their summers in the country, they use the season as
a period of physical and pecuniary recuperation from the
dissipations of the past, and preparation for those of the
coming winter. Their possessions are so large (those of
Count ScheremetiefF, for instance, contain one hundred ana
thirty thousand inhabitants) that they push each other toe
far apart for social intercourse ; and they consequently live
<tn deshabille, careless of the great national interests in their
hands. There is a class of our Southern planters which
seems to have adopted a very similar mode of life fami-
lies which shabbily starve for ten months, in order to make
a lordly show at " the Springs " for the other two. A most
accomplished Russian lady, the Princess D , said to
me, " The want of an active, intelligent country society
is our greatest misfortune. Our estates thus become a sort
of exile. The few, here and there, who try to improve the
condition of the people, through the improvement of the
sou, :*e not supported by their neighbors, and lose heart
The more we gain in the life of the capital, the more we
are oppressed by the solitude and stagnation of the life of
^e country."
64 BY-WAYS OF EUROI'E.
This open, cheerful region continued through the morn*
ing. The railroad was still a novelty; and the peasants
everywhere dropped their scythes and shovels to see the
train pass. Some bowed with the profoundest gravity-
They were a fine, healthy, strapping race of men, only of
medium height, but admirably developed in chest and
limbs, and with shrewd, intelligent faces. Content, not stu-
pidity, is the cause of their stationary condition. They
are not yet a people, but the germ of one, and, as such,
present a grand field for anthropological studies.
Towards noon the road began to descend, by easy
grades, from the fair, rolling uplands into a lower and
wilder region. When the train stopped, women and chil-
dren whose swarthy skin and black eyes betrayed a mix-
ture of Tartar blood, made their appearance, with wooden
bowls of cherries and huckleberries for sale. These bowls
were neatly carved and painted. They were evidently held
in high value ; for I had great difficulty in purchasing one.
We moved slowly, on account of the many skeleton
bridges ; but presently a long, blue ridge, which for an
hour past had followed us in the southeast, began to curve
around to our front. I now knew that it must mark the
course of the Oka River, and that we were approaching
Nijni-Novgorod.
We soon saw the river itself; then houses and gardens
scattered along the slope of the hill ; then clusters of
sparkling domes on the summit ; then a stately, white-
walled citadel ; and the end of the blue ridge slanted down
in an even line to the Volga. We were three hundred miles
from Moscow, on the direct road to Siberia.
The city being on the farther side of the Oka, the rail-
road terminates at the Fair, which is a separate city, oc-
cupying the triangular level between the two rivers. Our
approach to it was first announced by heaps of cotton-
bales, bound in striped camel's-hair cloth, which had found
their way hither from the distant valleys of Turkestan and
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA. 66
che warm plains of Bukharia. Nearly fifty thousand camefe
we employed in the transportation of this staple across
the deserts of the Aral to Orenburg, a distance of a
thousand miles. The increase of price had doubled the
production since the previous year, aud the amount which
now reaches the factories of Russia through this channel
cannot be less than seventy-five thousand bales. The ad-
vance of modern civilization has so intertwined the interests 1
of all zones and races, that a civil war in the United States
affects the industry of Central Asia !
Next to these cotton-bales which, to us, silently pro-
claimed the downfall of that arrogant monopoly which has
caused all our present woe, came the representatives of
those who produced them. Groups of picturesque Asians
Bashkirs, Persians, Bukharians, and Uzbeks appeared
on either side, staring impassively at the wonderful appa-
rition. Though there was sand under their feet, they
seemed out of place in the sharp north-wind and among
the hills of fir and pine.
The train stopped : we had reached the station. As I
stepped upon the platform, I saw, over the level lines of
copper roofs, the dragon-like pinnacles of Chinese build-
ings, and the white minaret of a mosque. Here was the
certainty of a picturesque interest to balance the uncer-
tainty of our situation. We had been unable to engage
quarters in advance : there were two hundred thousand
strangers before us, in a city the normal population of
which is barely forty thousand ; and four of our party were
ladies. The Envoy, indeed, might claim the Governor's
hospitality ; but our visit was to be so brief that we had
no time to expend on ceremonies, and preferred rambling
at will through the teeming bazaars to being led about
under the charge of an official escort.
A friend at Moscow, however, had considerately tele-
giaphed in our behalf to a French resident of Nijni, and
the latter gentleman met us at the station. He could give
I
66 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
but slight hope of quarters for the night, but generouslj
offered us his services. Droshkies were engaged to convey
us to the old city, on the hill beyond the Oka ; and, crowded
two by two into the shabby little vehicles, we set forth. The
sand was knee-deep, and the first thing that happened wa*
the stoppage of our procession by the tumbling down of the
several horses. They were righted with the help of some
obliging spectators ; and with infinite labor we worked
through this strip of desert into a region of mud, with a
hard, stony bottom somewhere between us and the earth's
centre. The street we entered, though on the outskirts of
the Fair, resembled Broadway on a sensation-day. It was
choked with a crowd, composed of the sweepings of Europe
and Asia. Our horses thrust their heads between the shoul-
ders of Christians, Jews, Moslems, and Pagans, slowly shov-
ing their way towards the floating bridge, which was a jam
of vehicles from end to end. At the corners of the streets,
the wiry Don Cossacks, in their dashing blue uniforms and
caps of black lamb's-wool, regulated, as best they could,
the movements of the multitude. It was curious to notice
how they, and their small, well-knit horses, the equine
counterparts of themselves, controlled the fierce, fiery
life which flashed from every limb and feature, and did
their duty with wonderful patience and gentleness. They
seemed so many spirits of Disorder tamed to the service
of Order.
It was nearly half an hour before we reached the other
end of the bridge, and struck the superb inclined highway
which leads to the top of the hill. We were unwashed
and hungry ; and neither the tumult of the lower town, nor
the view of the Volga, crowded with vessels of all descrip-
tions, had power to detain us. Our brave little horses bent
themselves to the task ; for task it really was, the road
rising between three and four hundred feet in less than half
a mile. Advantage has been taken of a slight natural ra-
vine, formed by a short, curving spur of the hill, which
BETWEEN KUROPE AND ASIA. 67
encloses a pocket of the greenest and richest foliage a
bit of unsuspected beauty, quite invisible from the other
side of the river. Then, in order to reach the level of the
Kremlin, the road is led through an artificial gap, a hundred
feet in depth, to the open square in the centre of the city.
Here, all was silent and deserted. There were broad,
well-paved streets, substantial houses, the square towers
and crenelated walls of the Old Kremlin, and the glittering
cupolas of twenty-six churches before us, and a lack of
population which contrasted amazingly with the whirlpool
of life below. Monsieur D., our new, but most faithful
friend, took us to the hotel, every corner and cranny of
which was occupied. There was a possibility of breakfast
only, and water was obtained with great exertion. While
we were lazily enjoying a tolerable meal, Monsieur D. was
bestirring himself in all quarters, and came back to us ra-
diant with luck. He had found four rooms in a neighboring
street ; and truly, if one were to believe De Custine or
Dumas, such rooms are impossible in Russia. Charmingly
clean, elegantly furnished, with sofas of green leather and
beds of purest linen, they would have satisfied the severe
eye of an English housekeeper. We thanked both our
good friend and St. Macarius (who presides over the Fair)
for this fortune, took possession, and then hired fresh drosh-
kies to descend the hill.
On emerging from the ravine, we obtained a bird's-eye
view of the whole scene. The waters of both rivers, near
at hand, were scarcely visible through the shipping which
covered them. Vessels from the Neva, the Caspian, and
the rivers of the Ural, were here congregated ; and they
alone represented a floating population of between thirty
and forty thousand souls. The Fair, from this point, re-
sembled an immense flat city, the streets of booths being
of a uniform height, out of which rose the great Greek
church, the Tartar mosque, and the curious Chinese roofs.
It was a vast, dark, humming plain, vanishing towards th
68 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
west and northwest in clouds of sand. By this time there
was a lull in the business, and we made our way to the
central bazaar with less trouble than we hud anticipated.
It is useless to attempt an enumeration of the wares ex-
posed for sale : they embraced everything grown, trapped,
dug, or manufactured between Ireland and Japan. We
sought, of course, the Asiatic elements, which first met us
in the shape of melons from Astrakhan, and grapes from the
southern slopes of the Caucasus. Then came wondrous
stuffs from the looms of Turkestan and Cashmere, tur-
quoises from the Upper Oxus, and glittering strings of Si-
berian topaz and amethyst, side by side with Nuremberg
toys, Lyons silks, and Sheffield cutlery. About one third
of the population of the Fair was of Asiatic blood, embra-
cing representatives from almost every tribe north and west
of the Himalayas.
This temporary city, which exists during only two months
of the year, contained two hundred thousand inhabitants
at the time of our visit. During the remaining ten months
it is utterly depopulated, the bazaars are closed, and chains
are drawn across the streets to prevent the passage of ve-
hicles. A single statement will give an idea of its extent :
the combined length of the streets is twenty-five miles.
The Great Bazaar is substantially built of stone, after the
manner of those in Constantinople, except that it incloses
an open court, where a Government band performs every
afternoon. Here the finer wares are displayed, and the
shadowed air under the vaulted roofs is a very kaleidoscope
for shifting color and sparkle. Tea, cotton, leather, wool,
and the other heavier and coarser commodities, have their
separate streets and quarters. The several nationalities
are similarly divided, to some extent ; but the stranger, of
course, prefers to see them jostling together in the streets,
a Babel not only of tongues, but of feature, character,
and costume.
Our ladies were eager to inspect the stock of Jewell^
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA. 69
especially those heaps of exquisite color with which the
Mohammedans very logically load the trees of Paradise ;
for they resemble fruit in a glorified state of existence.
One can imagine virtuous grapes promoted to amethysts,
blueberries to turquoises, cherries to rubies, and green-
gages to aqua-marine. These, the secondary jewels (with
the exception of the ruby), are brought in great quantities
from Siberia, but most of them are marred by slight flaws
or other imperfections, so that their cheapness is more ap-
parent than real. An amethyst an inch long, throwing the
most delicious purple light from its hundreds of facets,
quite takes you captive, and you put your hand in your
pocket for the fifteen dollars which shall make you its pos-
sessor ; but a closer inspection is sure to show you either
a broad transverse flaw, or a spot where the color fades
into transparency. The white topaz, known as the " Sibe-
rian diamond," is generally flawless, and the purest speci-
mens are scarcely to be distinguished from the genuine
brilliant. A necklace of these, varying from a half to a
quarter of an inch in diameter, may be had for about
twenty-five dollars. There were also golden and smoky
topaz and beryl, in great profusion.
A princely Bashkir drew us to his booth, first by his
beauty and then by his noble manners. He was the very
incarnation of Boker's " Prince Adeb."
" The girls of Damar paused to see me pass.
I walking in my rags, yet beautiful.
One maiden said, ' He has a prince's air ! '
I am a prince ; the air was all my own."
This Bashkir, however, was not in rags, he was elegantly
attired. His silken vest was bound with a girdle of gold
thread studded with jewels, and over it he wore a caftan,
with wide sleeves, of the finest dark-blue cloth. The round
cap of black lamb's-wool became his handsome head. His
complexion was pale olive, through which the red of his
cheeks shone, in the words of some oriental poem, " like
70 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
A rose leaf through oil ;" and his eyes, in their dark fir
were more lustrous tvian smoky topaz. His voice was mel-
low and musical, and his every movement and gesture a
new exhibition of human grace. Among thousands, yea,
tens of thousands, of handsome men, he stood preeminent.
As our acquaintance ripened, he drew a pocket-book
from his bosom, and showed us his choicest treasures : tur
quoises, bits of wonderful blue heavenly forget-me-nots ; a
jacinth, burning like a live coal, in scarlet light ; and
lastly, a perfect ruby, which no sum less than twenty-five
hundred dollars could purchase. From him we learned
the curious fluctuations of fashion in regard to jewels.
Turquoises were just then in the ascendant; and one of
the proper tint, the size of a parsnip-seed, could not be had
for a hundred dollars, the full value of a diamond of equal
size. Amethysts of a deep plum-color, though less beauti-
ful than the next paler shade, command very high prices ;
while jacinth, beryl, and aqua-marine stones of exquisite
hue and lustre are cheap. But then, in this depart-
ment, as in all others, Fashion and Beauty are not conver-
tible terms.
In the next booth there were two Persians, who unfolded
before our eyes some of their marvelous shawls, where you
forget the barbaric pattern in the exquisite fineness of the
material and the triumphant harmony of the colors. Scar-
let with palm-leaf border, blue clasped by golden bronze,
picked out with red, browns, greens, and crimsons strug-
gling for the mastery in a war of tints, how should we
choose between them ? Alas ! we were not able to choose ;
they were a thousand dollars apiece ! But the Persians
still went on unfolding, taking our admiration in pay for
their trouble, and seeming even, by their pleasant smiles,
to consider themselves well paid. When we came to the
booths of European merchants, we were swiftly impressed
with the fact that civilization, in following the sun west-
ward, loses its grace in proportion as it advances. The
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA. 71
gentle dignity, the serene patience, the oft, fraternal,
affectionate demeanor of our Asiatic brethren vanished
utterly when we encountered French and German sales-
men ; and yet these latter would have seemed gracious
and courteous, had there been a few Yankee dealers
beyond them. The fourth or fifth century, which still
exists in Central Asia, was undoubtedly, in this particular,
superior to the nineteenth. No gentleman, since his time,
I suspect, has equaled Adam.
Among these Asiatics Mr. Buckle would have some dif-
ficulty in maintaining his favorite postulate, that tolerance
is the result of progressive intelligence. It is also the
result of courtesy, as we may occasionally see in well-
bred persons of limited intellect. Such, undoubtedly,
is the basis of that tolerance which no one who has had
much personal intercourse with the Semitic races can have
failed to experience. The days of the sword and fagot are
past; but it was reserved for Christians to employ them
in the name of religion alone. Local or political jealous-
ies are at the bottom of those troubles which still occur
from time to time in Turkey ; the traveller hears no insult-
ing epithet, and the green-turbaned Imam will receive
him as kindly and courteously as the skeptical Bey edu-
cated in Paris. I have never been so aggressively assailed,
on religious grounds, as at home, never so coarsely and
insultingly treated, on account of a presumed difference
of opinion, as by those who claim descent from the Cava-
liers. The bitter fierceness of some of our leading
reformers is overlooked by their followers, because it
springs from " earnest conviction " ; but in the Orient
intensest faith coexists with the most gracious and gentle
manners.
Be not impatient, beloved reader ; for this digression
brings me naturally to the next thing we saw at Novgorod.
As we issued from the bazaar, the sunlit minaret greeted
us through whirling dust and rising vapor, and I fancied I
72 BY-WA1S OF EUBOPE.
could hear the muezzin's musical cry. It was about time
for the asser prayer. Droshkies were found, and we rode
slowly through the long, low warehouses of " caravan tea "
and Mongolian wool to the mound near the Tartar encamp-
ment The mosque was a plain, white, octagonal building,
conspicuous only through its position. The turbaned faith*
ful were already gathering ; and we entered, and walked
up the steps among them, without encountering an un-
friendly glance. At the door stood two Cossack soldiers,
specially placed there to prevent the worshippers from
being insulted by curious Christians. (Those who have
witnessed the wanton profanation of mosques in India by
the English officers will please notice this fact.) If we
had not put off our shoes before entering the hall of wor-
ship, the Cossacks would have performed that operation
for us.
I am happy to say that none of our party lacked a
proper reverence for devotion, though it was offered through
the channels of an alien creed. The ladies left their
gaiters beside our boots, and we all stood in our stockings
on the matting, a little in the rear of the kneeling crowd.
The priest occupied a low dais in front, but he simply led
the prayer, which was uttered by all. The windows were
open, and the sun poured a golden flood into the room.
Yonder gleamed the Kremlin of Novgorod, yonder rolled
the Volga, all around were the dark forests of the North,
yet their faces were turned, and their thoughts went south-
ward, to where Mecca sits among the burning hills, in the
feathery shade of her palm-trees. And the tongue of
Mecca came from their lips, "Allah!" "Allah akhbarf as
the knee bent and the forehead touched the floor.
At the second repetition of the prayers we quietly with-
drew ; and good Monsieur D., forgetful of nothing, sug
gested that preparations had been made for a dinner in the
great cosmopolitan restaurant. So we drove back again
through the Chinese street, with its red horned houses, the
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA. 73
roofs terminating in gilded dragons' tails, and, after press
ing through an immense multitude enveloped in tobacco-
smoke and the steam of tea-urns, found ourselves at last in
a low room with a shaky floor and muslin ceiling. It was
an exact copy of the dining-room of a California hotel.
If we looked blank a moment, Monsieur D.'s smile reas-
sured us. He had given all the necessary orders, he said,
and would step out and secure a box in the theatre before
the zakouski was served. During his absence, we looked
out of the window on either side upon surging, whirling,
humming pictures of the Great Fair, all vanishing in per-
spectives of dust and mist.
In half an hour our friend returned, and with him
entered the zakouski. I cannot remember half the appe-
tizing ingredients of which it was composed : anchovies,
sardines, herrings, capers, cheese, caviare, pate de foie,
pickles, cherries, oranges, and olives, were among them.
Instead of being a prelude to dinner, it was almost a
dinner in itself. Then, after a Russian soup, which always
contains as much solid nutriment as meat-biscuit or Arc-
tic pemmican, came the glory of the repast, a mighty
sterlet, which was swimming in Volga water when we took
our seats at the table. This fish-, the exclusive property of
Russia, is, in times of scarcity, worth its weight in silver.
Its unapproachable flavor is supposed to be as evanescent
as the hues of a dying dolphin. Frequently, at grand din-
ner-parties, it is carried around the table in a little tank,
and exhibited, alive, to the guests, when their soup is
served, that its freshness, ten minutes afterwards, may be
put beyond suspicion. The fish has the appearance of a
small, lean sturgeon ; but its flesh resembles the melting
pulp of a fruit rather than the fibre of its watery brethren.
It sinks into juice upon the tongue, like a perfectly ripe
peach. In this quality no other fish in the world can ap-
proach it ; yet I do not think the flavor quite so fine as
that of a brook-trout. Our sterlet was nearly two feet
long, and may have cost twenty or thirty dollars.
74 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
With it appeared an astonishing salad, composed of
watermelons, cantaloupes, pickled cherries, cucumbers, and
certain spicy herbs. Its color and odor were enticing, and
we had all applied the test of taste most satisfactorily
before we detected the curious mixture of ingredients,
After the second course, a ragout of beef, accompanied
with a rich, elaborate sauce, three heavy tankards of
chased silver, holding two quarts apiece, were placed upon
the table. The first of these contained kvass, the second
kislischi, and the third hydromel. Each one of these national
drinks, when properly brewed, is very palatable and re-
freshing. I found the kislischi nearly identical with the
ancient Scandinavian mead : no doubt it dates from the
Varangian rule in Russia. The old custom of passing the
tankards around the table, from mouth to mouth, is still
observed, and will not be found objectionable, even in these
days of excessive delicacy, when ladies and gentlemen are
seated alternately at the banquet.
The Russian element of the dinner here terminated.
Cutlets and roast fowls made their appearance, with bottles
of Rudesheimer and Lafitte, followed by a dessert of su-
perb Persian melons, from the southern shore of the
Caspian Sea.
By this time night had fallen, and Monsieur D. sug-
gested an immediate adjournment to the theatre. What
should be the entertainment ? Dances of almehs, songs of
gypsies, or Chinese jugglers? One of the Ivans brought a
programme. It was not difficult to decipher the word
" MAKEFTTJ " and to recognize, further, in the name of
" Ira Aldridge " a distinguished mulatto tragedian, to
whom Maryland has given birth (if I am rightly informed)
and Europe fame. We had often heard of him, yea, seen
his portrait in Germany, decorated with the orders con
ferrecl by half a dozen sovereigns ; and his presence here,
between Europe and Asia, was not the least characteristic
feature of the Fair. A mulatto Macbeth, in a Russian
theatre, with a Persian and Tartar audience !
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA. 75
On arriving, we were ushered into two whitewashed
o '
boxes, which had been reserved for our party. The man-
ager, having been informed of the Envoy's presence in
Nijni-Novgorod, had delayed the performance half an hour,
but the audience bore this infliction patiently. The building
was deep and narrow, with space for about eight hundred
persons, and was filled from top to bottom. The first act
was drawing to a close as we entered. King Duncan, with
two or three shabby attendants, stood in the court-yard of
the castle, the latter represented by a handsome French
door on the left, with a bit of Tartar wall beyond, and
made his observations on the " pleasant seat " of Macbeth's
mansion. He spoke Russian, of course. Lady Macbeth
now appeared, in a silk dress of the latest fashion, ex-
panded by the amplest of crinolines. She was passably
handsome, and nothing could be gentler than her face and
voice. She received the royal party like a well-bred lady,
and they all entered the French door together.
There was no change of scene. With slow step and
folded arms, Era Macbeth entered and commenced the
soliloquy, " If it were done," etc., to our astonishment, in
English ! He was a dark, strongly built mulatto, of about
fifty, in a fancy tunic, and light stockings over Forrestian
calves. His voice was deep and powerful ; and it was very
evident that Edmund Kean, once his master, was also the
model which he carefully followed in the part. There
were the same deliberate, over-distinct enunciation, the
same prolonged pauses and gradually performed gestures)
as I remember in imitations of Kean's manner. Except
that the copy was a little too apparent, Mr. Aldridge's
acting was really very fine. The Russians were enthusias-
tic in their applause, though very few of them, probably,
understood the language of the part. The Oriental audi-
tors were perfectly impassive, and it was impossible to guess
how they regarded the performance.
The second act was in some respects the most amusing
76 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
thing I ever saw upon the stage. In the dagger-scene
Ira was, to my mind, quite equal to Forrest ; it was impos-
sible to deny him unusual dramatic talent ; but his com
plexion, continually suggesting Othello, quite confounded
me. The amiable Russian Lady Macbeth was much better
adapted to the part of Desdemona : all softness and gen-
tleness, she smiled as she lifted her languishing eyes, and
murmured in the tenderest accents, " Infirm of purpose !
give me the dagger ! " At least, I took for granted that
these were her words, for Macbeth had just said, "Look
on't again I dare not." Afterwards, six Russian soldiers,
in tan-colored shirts, loose trousers, and high boots, filed
in, followed by Macduff and Malcolm, in the costume of
Wallenstein's troopers. The dialogue one voice Eng-
lish, and all the others Russian proceeded smoothly
enough, but the effect was like nothing which our stage
can produce. Nevertheless, the audience was delighted,
and when the curtain fell there were vociferous cries of
"Aira ! Aira ! Aldreetch ! Aldreetch ! " until the swarthy
hero made his appearance before the foot-lights.
Monsieur D. conducted our friend P. into the green-
room, where he was received by Macbeth in costume. He
found the latter to be a dignified, imposing personage, who
carried his tragic chest-tones into ordinary conversation.
On being informed by P. that the American minister was
present, he asked,
" Of what persuasion ? "
P. hastened to set him right, and Ira then remarked, in
his gravest tone, "I shall have the honor of waiting
upon him to-morrow morning ; " which, however, he failed
to do.
This son of the South, no doubt, came legitimately (or
at least, naturally) by his dignity. His career, for a man
of his blood and antecedents, has been wonderfully success-
ful, and is justly due, I am convinced, since I have seen
him, to his histrionic talerts. Both black and yellow skin
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA. ^7
are sufficiently rare in Europe to excite a particular in-
terest in those who wear them ; and I had surmised, up to
this time, that much of his popularity might be owing to
his color. But he certainly deserves an honorable place
among tragedians of the second rank.
"We left the theatre at the close of the third act, and
crossed the river to our quarters on the hill. A chill mist
hung over the Fair, but the lamps still burned, the streets
were thronged, and the Don Cossacks kept patient guard
at every corner. The night went by like one unconscious
minute, in beds unmolested by bug or flea ; and when I
arose, thoroughly refreshed, I involuntarily called to mind
a frightful chapter in De Custine's " Russia," describing the
prevalence of an insect which he calls the persica, on the
banks of the Volga. He was obliged to sleep on a table,
the legs whereof were placed in basins of water, to escape
their attacks. I made many inquiries about these terrible
persicas, and finally discovered that they were neither more
fior less than cockroaches ! called Prossdki (Prus-
sians) by the Russians, as they are sometimes called Schwa-
ben (Suabians) by the Germans. Possibly they may be
found in the huts of the serfs, but they are rare in decent
houses.
"We devoted the first sunny hours of the morning to a visit
to the citadel and a walk around the crest of the hill. On
the highest point, just over the junction of the two rivers,
there is a commemorative column to Minim, the patriotic
butcher of Novgorod, but for whose eloquence, in the year
1610, the Russian might possibly now be the Polish Em-
pire. Vladislas, son of Sigismund of Poland, had been
called to the throne by the boyards, and already reigned in
Moscow, when Minim appealed to the national spirit, per-
suaded General Pojarski to head an anti-Polish movement,
which was successful, and thus cleared the way for the
election of Michael Romanoff, the first sovereign of the
present dynasty. Minim is therefore one of the historic
names of Russia.
78 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
When I stood beside his monument, and the finest land
scape of European Russia was suddenly unrolled befor*
my eyes, I could believe the tradition of his eloquence,
for here was its inspiration. Thirty or forty miles away-
stretched the rolling swells of forest and grain-land, fading
into dimmest blue to the westward and northward, dotted
with villages and sparkling domes, and divided by shining
reaches of the Volga. It was truly a superb and imposing
view, changing with each spur of the hill as we made the
circuit of the citadel. Eastward, the country rose into
dark, wooded hills, between which the river forced its way
in a narrower and swifter channel, until it disappeared
behind a purple headland, hastening southward to find a
warmer home in the unfrozen Caspian. By embarking on
the steamers anchored below us, we might have reached
Perm, among the Ural Mountains, or Astrakhan, in less
than a week ; while a trip of ten days would have taken us
past the Caucasus, even to the base of Ararat or Demavend.
Such are the splendid possibilities of travel in these days.
The Envoy, who visited Europe for the first time, de-
clared that this panorama from the hill of Novgorod was
one of the finest tilings he had seen. There could, truly,
be no better preparation to enjoy it than fifteen hundred
miles of nearly unbroken level, after leaving the Russian
frontier ; but I think it would be a noted landscape any-
where. Why it is not more widely celebrated I cannot
guess. The only person in Russia whom I heard speak of
it with genuine enthusiasm was Alexander II.
Two hours upon the breezy parapet, beside the old
Tartar walls, were all too little ; but the droshkies waited
in the river-street a quarter of a mile below us ; our return
to Moscow was ordered for the afternoon ; there were ame-
thysts and Persian silks yet to be bought, and so we sighed
farewell to an enjoyment rare in Russia, and descended the
steep foot-path.
P. and I left the rest of the party at the booth of the
BETWEEN EUROPE AUD ASIA. 79
hmdsome Bashkir, and set out upon a special mission to
the Tartar camp. I had ascertained that the national
beverage of Centra. Asia might be found there, the gen-
uine koumiss or fermented milk of the mares of the Uralian
steppes. Having drunk palm-wine in India, samshoo in
China, saki in Japan, pulque in Mexico, bouza in Egypt,
mead in Scandinavia, ale in England, bock-bier in Germany,
mastic in Greece, calabogus in Newfoundland, and soda-
water in the United States, I desired to complete the bibu-
lous cosmos, in which koumiss was still lacking. My friend
did not share my curiosity, but was ready for an adventure,
which our search for mare's milk seemed to promise.
Beyond the mosques we found the Uzbeks and Kirghiz,
some in tents, some in rough shanties of boards. But
they were without koumiss : they had had it, and showed
us some empty kegs, in evidence of the fact. I fancied a
gleam of diversion stole over their grave, swarthy faces, as
they listened to our eager inquiries in broken Russian.
Finally we came into an extemporized village, where some
women, unveiled and ugly, advised us to apply to the
traders in the khan, or caravanserai. This was a great
barn-like building, two stories high, with broken staircases
and creaking floors. A corridor ran the whole length of
the second floor, with some twenty or thirty doors opening
into it from the separate rooms of the traders. We ac-
costed the first Tartar whom we met, and he promised,
with great readiness, to procure us what we wanted. He
ushered us into his room, cleared away a pile of bags,
saddles, camel-trappings, and other tokens of a nomadic
life, and revealed a low divan covered with a ragged carpet.
On a sack of barley sat his father, a blind graybeard,
nearly eighty years old. On our way through the camp I
had noticed that the Tartars saluted each other with the
Arabic, " Salaam aleikoom ! " and I therefore greeted the
old man with the familiar words. He lifted his head : his
face brightened, and he immediately answered, "Aleikoom
talonm, my son ! "
80 BY-WAYS OF EUBOPE.
u Do you speak Arabic ? " I asked.
" A little ; I have forgotten it," said he. " But thine ii
a new voice. Of what tribe art thou ? "
" A tribe far away, beyond Bagdad and Syria," I an-
swered.
" It is the tribe of Damascus. I know it now, my son.
I have heard the voice, many, many years ago."
The withered old face looked so bright, as some pleas-
ant memory shone through it, that I did not undeceive the
man. His son came in with a glass, pulled a keg from
under a pile of coarse caftans, and drew out the wooden
peg. A gray liquid, with an odor at once sour and pun-
gent, spirted into the glass, which he presently handed to
me, filled to the brim. In such cases no hesitation is per-
mitted. I thought of home and family, set the glass to my
lips, and emptied it before the flavor made itself clearly
manifest to my palate.
" Well, what is it like ? " asked my friend, who curiously
awaited the result of the experiment.
" Peculiar," I answered, with preternatural calmness,
" peculiar, but not unpleasant."
The glass was filled a second time ; and P., not to be
behindhand, emptied it at a draught. Then he turned to
me with tears (not of delight) in his eyes, swallowed very
hard two or three times, suppressed a convulsive shudder,
and finally remarked, with the air of a martyr, "Very
curious, indeed ! "
" Will your Excellencies have some more ? " said the
friendly Tartar.
" Not before breakfast, if you please," I answered ;
" your koumiss is excellent, however, and we will take a
bottle with us," which we did, in order to satisfy the
possible curiosity of the ladies. I may here declare that
the bottle was never emptied.
The taste was that of aged buttermilk mixed with am-
monia. We could detect no flavor of alcohol, yet were
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA. 81
conscious of a light exhilaration from the small quantity
we drank. The beverage is said, indeed, to be very in-
toxicating. Some German physician has established a
" koumiss-cure " at Piatigorsk, at the northern base of the
Caucasus, and invites invalids of certain kinds to come
and be healed by its agency. I do not expect to be one of
the number.
There still remained a peculiar feature of the Fair,
which I had not yet seen. This is the subterranean net-
work of sewerage, which reproduces, in massive masonry,
the streets on the surface. Without it, the annual city of
two months would become uninhabitable. The peninsula
between the two rivers being low and marshy, frequently
overflowed during the spring freshets, pestilence would
soon be bred from the immense concourse of people : hence
a system of cloacae, almost rivaling those of ancient Rome.
At each street-corner there are wells containing spiral
staircases, by which one can descend to the spacious sub-
terranean passages, and there walk for miles under arches
of hewn stone, lighted and aired by shafts at regular inter-
vals. In St. Petersburg you are told that more than half
the cost of the city is under the surface of the earth ; at
Nijni-Novgorod the statement is certainly true. Peter the
vireat at one time designed establishing his capital here.
Could he have foreseen the existence of railroads, he would
certainly have done so. Nijni-Novgorod is now nearer to
Berlin than the Russian frontier was fifty years ago. St.
Petersburg is an accidental city ; Nature and the destiny
of the empire are both opposed to its existence ; and a time
will come when its long lines of palaces shall be deserted
for some new capital, in a locality at once more southern
and more central.
Another walk through the streets of the Fair enabled
me to analyze the first confused impression, and separate
the motley throng of life into its several elements. I shah
not attempt, however, to catch and paint its ever-changing,
6
02 Bl-WAYS OF EUKOPfc.
fluctuating character. Our limited visit allowed us to see
only the more central and crowded streets. Outside of
these, for miles, extend suburbs of iron, of furs, wool, and
other coarser products, brought together from the Ural,
Trom the forests towards the Polar Ocean, and from the
vast extent of Siberia. Here, from morning till night, the
beloved kvass flows in rivers, the strong stream of shchee
(cabbage-soup) sends up its perpetual incense, and the
samovar of cheap tea is never empty. Here, although im-
portant interests are represented, the intercourse between
buyers and sellers is less grave and methodical than in the
bazaar. There are jokes, laughter, songs, and a constant
play of that repartee in which even the serfs are masters.
Here, too, jugglers and mountebanks of all sorts ply their
trade ; gypsies sing, dance, and tell fortunes ; and other
vocations, less respectable than these, flourish vigorously.
For, whether the visitor be an Ostiak from the Polar Cir-
cle, an Uzbek from the Upper Oxus, a Grim-Tartar or
Noga'i, a Georgian from Tiflis, a Mongolian from the Land
of Grass, a Persian from Ispahan, a Jew from Hamburg, a
Frenchman from Lyons, a Tyrolese, Swiss, Bohemian, or
an Anglo-Saxon from either side of the Atlantic, he meets
his fellow-visitors to the Great Fair on the common ground,
not of human brotherhood, but of human appetite ; and all
the manifold nationalities succumb to the same allurements.
If the various forms of indulgence could be so used as to
propagate ideas, the world would speedily be regenerated ;
but as things go, u cakes and ale " have more force than
the loftiest ideas, the noblest theories of improvement ; and
the impartial observer will make this discovery as readil}
at Nijni- Novgorod as anywhere else.
Before taking leave of the Fair, let me give a word to
the important subject of tea. It is a much-disputed ques-
tion with the connoisseurs of that beverage which neither
cheers nor inebriates (though, I confess, it is more agree-
able than koumiss), whether the Russian " caravan tea*
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA.
a really superior to that which is imported by sea. AJlei
much patient observation, combined with serioua reflection
I incline to the opinion that the flavor of tea depends, not
upon the method of transportation, but upon the price paid
for the article. I have tasted bad caravan tea in Russia,
and delicious tea in New York. In St. Petersburg you
cannot procure a good article for less than three roubles
($2.25, gold) per pound; while the finer kinds bring
twelve and even sixteen roubles. Whoever is willing tr-
import at that price can no doubt procure tea of equal ev-
cellence. The fact is, that this land-transportation is slow,
laborious, and expensive ; hence the finer kinds of tea are
always selected, a pound thereof costing no more tot car-
riage than a pound of inferior quality ; whence tde supe-
rior flavor of caravan tea. There is, however, one variety
to be obtained in Russia which I have found nowhere else,
not even in the Chinese sea-ports. It is called " imperial
tea," and comes in elegant boxes of yellow silk emblazoned
with the dragon of the Hang dynasty, at the rate of from
six to twenty dollars a pound. It is yellow, and the decoc-
tion from it is almost colorless. A small pinch of it,
added to ordinary black tea, gives an indescribably delicious
flavor the very aroma of the tea-blossom ; but one cup
of it, unmixed, is said to deprive the drinker of sleep for
three nights.
Monsieur D. brought our last delightful stroll through
the glittering streets to an untimely end. The train for
Moscow was to leave at three o'clock ; and he had ordered
an early dinner at the restaurant. By the time this was
concluded, it was necessary to drive at once to the station,
in order to secure places. We were almost too late ; the
train, long as it was, was crammed to overflowing ; and
although both station-master and conductor assisted us, the
eager passengers disregarded their authority. With great
difficulty, one compartment was cleared for the ladies ; in
the adjoining one four merchants, in long caftans, with
84 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
sacks of watermelons as provision for the journey, took
their places, and would not be ejected. A scene of con-
fusion ensued, in which station-master, conductor, Mon-
sieur D., my friend P., and the Russian merchants were
curiously mixed ; but when we saw the sacks of water
melons rolling out of the door, we knew the day was ours
In two minutes more we were in full possession ; the doors
were locked, and the struggling throngs beat against them
in vain.
With a grateful farewell to our kind guide, whose rather
severe duties for our sake were now over, we moved away
from the station, past heaps of cotton-bales, past hills of
drifting sand, and impassive groups of Persians, Tartars,
and Bukharians, and slowly mounted the long grade to
the level of the upland, leaving the Fair to hum and whirl
in the hollow between the rivers, and the white walls and
golden domes of Novgorod to grow dim on the crest of the
receding hill.
The next morning at sunrise, we were again in MM
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG,
As September drew to an end, with only here and thert
a suggestion of autumn in chrome-colored leaves on the
ends of birch-branches, we were told that any day n/ight
suddenly bring forth winter. I remembered that five years
before, in precisely the same season, I had travelled from
Upsala to Stockholm in a violent snow-storm, and there-
fore accepted the announcement as a part of the regular
programme of the year. But the days came and went;
fashionable equipages forsook their summer ground of the
Islands, and crowded the Nevskoi Prospekt ; the nights
were cold and raw; the sun's lessening declination was
visible from day to day, and still Winter delayed to make
his appearance.
The Island drive was our favorite resort of an afternoon ;
and we continued to haunt it long after every summer
guest had disappeared, and when the datchas and palaces
showed plank and matting in place of balcony and window.
In the very heart of St. Petersburg the one full stream of
the Neva splits into three main arms, which afterwards
subdivide, each seeking the Gulf of Finland at its own
swift, wild will. The nearest of these islands, Vassili Os-
trow, is a part of the solid city : on Kammenoi and Apte-
karskoi you reach the commencement of gardens and
groves ; and beyond these the rapid waters mirror only
palace, park, and summer theatre. The widening streams
continually disclose the horizon-line of the Gulf; and at
the farthest point of the drive, where the road turns
sharply back again from the freedom of the shore into
mixed woods of birch and pine, the shipping at Cronstadt
and sometimes the phantoms of fortresses detach
88 BY-WAYS Off EUROPE.
themselves from the watery haze, and the hill of Pargola,
in Finland, rises to break the dreary level of the Ingrian
marshes.
During the sunny evenings and the never-ending twi
lights of midsummer, all St. Petersburg pours itself upon
these islands. A league-long wall of dust rises from the
carriages and droshkies in the main highway ; and the
branching Neva-arms are crowded with skiffs and diminu
tive steamers bound for pleasure-gardens where gypsies
sing and Tyrolese yodel and jugglers toss their knives and
balls, and private rooms may be had for gambling and
other cryptic diversions. Although with shortened days
and cool evenings the tide suddenly took a reflux and the
Nevskoi became a suggestion of Broadway (which, of all
individual streets, it most nearly resembles), we found an
indescribable charm in the solitude of the fading groves
and the waves whose lamenting murmur foretold their
speedy imprisonment. We had the whole superb drive to
ourselves. It is true that Ivan, upon the box, lifted his
brows in amazement, and sighed that his jaunty cap of
green velvet should be wasted upon the desert air, when-
ever I said, " Na Oslrowa" but he was too genuine a Rus-
sian to utter a word of remonstrance.
Thus, day by day, unfashionable, but highly satisfied, we
repeated the lonely drive, until the last day came, as it al-
ways will. I don't think I shall ever forget it. It was the
first day of November. For a fortnight the temperature
had been a little below the freezing-point, and the leaves
of the alder-thickets, frozen suddenly and preserved as in
a great out-door refrigerator, maintained their green. A
pale blue mist rose from the Gulf and hung over the
islands, the low sun showing an orange disk, which touched
the shores with the loveliest color, but gave no warmth to
the windless air. The parks and gardens were wholly de-
serted, and came and went, on either side, phantom-like in
their soft, gray, faded tints. Under every bridge flashed
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 89
and foamed the clear, beryl-green waters. And nobody in
St. Petersburg, except ourselves, saw this last and sunniest
flicker of the dying season !
The very next day was cold and dark, and so the ftreathci
remained, with brief interruptions, for months. On the
evening of the 6th, as we drove over the Nikolai Bridge
to dine with a friend on Vassili Ostrow, we noticed frag-
ments of ice floating down the Neva. Looking up the
stream, we were struck by the fact that the remaining
bridges had been detached from the St Petersburg side,
floated over, and anchored along the opposite shore. This
seemed a needless precaution, for the pieces of drift-ice
were hardly large enough to have crushed a skiff. How
surprised were we, then, on returning home, four hours
later, to find the noble river gone, not a green wave to be
seen, and, as far as the eye could reach, a solid floor of ice,
over which people were already crossing to and fro !
Winter, having thus suddenly taken possession of the
world, lost no time in setting up the signs of his rule. The
leaves, whether green or brown, disappeared at one swoop ;
snow-gusts obscured the little remaining sunshine ; the in-
habitants came forth in furs and bulky wrappings ; oysters
and French pears became unreasonably dear ; and sledges
of frozen fish and game crowded down from the northern
forests. In a few days the physiognomy of the capital was
completely changed. All its life and stir withdrew from
the extremities and gathered into a few central thorough-
fares, as if huddling together for mutual warmth and en-
couragement in the cold air and under the gloomy sky.
For darkness, rather than cold, is the characteristic of
the St. Petersburg winter. The temperature, which at
Montreal or St. Paul would not be thought remarkably
low, seems to be more severely felt here, owing to the ab-
sence of pure daylight. Although both Lake Ladoga and
the Gulf of Finland are frozen, the air always retains a
damp, raw, penetrating quality, and the snow is more fre-
90 BY- VAYS OP EUROPE.
quently sticky and clammy than dry and crystalline. Few,
indeed, are the days which are not cheerless and depress-
ing. In December, when the sky is overcast for weeks to-
gether, the sun, rising after nine o'clock, and sliding along
just above the horizon, enables you to dispense with lamp-
light somewhere between ten and eleven ; but by two in
the afternoon you must call for lights again. Even when
a clear day comes, the yellow, level sunshine is a combina-
tion of sunrise and sunset, and neither tempers the air nor
mitigates the general expression of gloom, almost of de-
spair, upon the face of Nature.
The preparations for the season, of course, have been
made long before. In most houses the double windows
are allowed to remain through the summer, but they must
be carefully examined, the layer of cotton between them,
at the bottom, replenished, a small vessel of salt added to
absorb the moisture and prevent it from freezing on the
panes, and strips of paper pasted over every possible crack.
The outer doors are covered with wadded leather, over-
lapping the frames on all sides. The habitations being thus
almost hermetically sealed, they are easily warmed by the
huge porcelain stoves, which retain warmth so tenaciously
that one fire per day is sufficient for the most sensitive
constitutions. In my owji room, I found that one armful of
birch-wood, reduced to coal, every alternate morning, created
a steady temperature of 64. Although the rooms are
always spacious, and arranged in suites of from three to a
dozen, according to the extent and splendor of the residence s
the atmosphere soon becomes close and characterized by
an unpleasant odor, suggesting its diminished vitality ; for
which reason pastilles are burned, or eau de Cologne re-
duced to vapor in a heated censer, whenever visits are an-
ticipated. It was a question with me, whether or not the
advantage of a thoroughly equable temperature was counter-
balanced by the lack of circulation. The physical depress-
ion we all felt seemed to result chiefly from the absence
of daylight
WINTER-UP*: IN ST. PETERSBURG. 91
One winter picture remains clearly outlined upon my
memory. In the beginning of December we happened
once to drive across the Admiralty Square in the early
evening twilight, three o'clock in the aftern Don. The
temperature was about 10 below zero, the sky a low roof
of moveless clouds, which seemed to be frozen in theii
places. The pillars of St. Isaac's Cathedral splendid
monoliths of granite, sixty feet high had precipitated the
moisture of the air, and stood silvered with rime from base
to capital. The Column of Alexander, the bronze statue
of Peter, with his horse poised in air on the edge of the
rock, and the trees on the long esplanade in front of the
Admiralty, were all similarly coated, every twig rising
as rigid as iron in the dark air. Only the huge golden
hemisphere of the Cathedral dome, and the tall, pointed
golden spire of the Admiralty, rose above the gloom, and
half shone with a muffled, sullen glare. A few people,
swaddled from head to foot, passed rapidly to and fro, or
a droshky, drawn by a frosted horse, sped away to the en-
trance of the Nevskoi Prospekt. Even these appeared
rather like wintry phantoms than creatures filled with warm
blood and breathing the breath of life. The vast spaces of
the capital, the magnitude of its principal edifices, and the
display of gold and colors, strengthened the general aspect
of unreality, by introducing so many inharmonious ele-
ments into the picture. A bleak moor, with the light of a
single cottage-window shining across it, would have been
less cold, dead, and desolate.
The temperature, I may here mention, was never very
severe. There were three days when the mercury fluctu-
ated between 15 and 20 below zero, five days when it
reached 10 below, and perhaps twenty when it fell to zero,
01 a degree or two on either side. The mean of the five
winter months was certainly not lower than -j-12. Quite
as much rain fell as snow. After two or three days of
sharp cold, there was almost invaiiably a day of rain oi
92 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
fog, and for many weeks walking was so difficult that we
were obliged to give up all out-door exercise except
skating or sliding. The streets were either coated with
glassy ice or they were a foot deep in slush. There is more
and better sleighing in the vicinity of Boston almost any
winter than in St. Petersburg during the winter of 1862-3.
In our trips to the Observatory of Pulkova, twelve miles
distant, we were frequently obliged to leave the highway
and put our sled-runners upon the frosted grass of the
meadows. The rapid and continual changes of temperature
were more trying than any amount of steady cold. Grippe
became prevalent, and therefore fashionable, and all the
endemic diseases of St. Petersburg showed themselves in
force. The city, it is well known, is built upon piles, and
most of the inhabitants suffer from them. Children look
pale and wilted, in the absence of the sun, and special care
must be taken of those under five years of age. Some
little relatives of mine, living in the country, had their
daily tumble in the snow, and thus kept ruddy ; but in the
city this is not possible, and we had many anxious days be-
fore the long darkness was over.
As soon as snow had fallen and freezing weather set in,
the rough, broken ice of the Neva was flooded in various
places for skating-ponds, and the work of erecting ice-hills
commenced. There were speedily a number of the latter
in full play, in the various suburbs, a space of level
ground, at least a furlong in length, being necessary. They
are supported by subscription, and I had paid ten rubles
for permission to use a very fine one on the farther island,
when an obliging card of admission came for the gardens
of the Taurida Palace, where the younger members of the
Imperial family skate and slide. My initiation, however,
took place at the first-named locality, whither we were con-
ducted by an old American resident of St Petersburg.
The construction of these ice-hills is very simple. They
are rude towers of timber, twenty k> thirty feet in height.
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 93
the summit of which is reached by a staircase at the back,
while in front descends a steep concave of planking upon
which water is poured until it is covered with a six-inch
coating of solid ice. Raised planks at the side keep the
Bled in its place until it reaches the foot, where it enters
upon an icy plain two to four hundred yards in length (in
proportion to the height of the hill), at the extremity of
which rises a similar hill, facing towards the first, but a
little on one side, so that the sleds from the opposite ends
may pass without collision.
The first experience of this diversion is fearful to a per-
son of delicate nerves. The pitch of the descent is so
sheer, the height so great (apparently), the motion of the
sled so swift, and its course so easily changed, even the
lifting of a hand is sufficient, that the novice is almost
sure to make immediate shipwreck. The sleds are small
and low, with smooth iron runners, and a plush cushion,
upon which the navigator sits bolt upright with his legs
close together, projecting over the front. The runners
must be exactly parallel to the lines of the course at start-
ing, and the least tendency to sway to either side must be
instantly corrected by the slightest motion of the hand.
I engaged one of the mujiks in attendance to pilot me
on my first voyage. The man having taken his position
well forward on the little sled, I knelt upon the rear end,
where there was barely space enough for my knees, placed
my hands upon his shoulders, and awaited the result. He
shoved the sled with his hands, very gently and carefully,
to the brink of the icy steep : then there was a moment's
adjustment: then a poise: then sinking of the heart,
cessation of breath, giddy roaring and whistling of the air,
and I found myself scudding along the level with the speed
of an express train. I never happened to fall out of a
fourth-story window, but I immediately understood the sen-
sations of the unfortunate persons who do. It was an
frightful that I shuddered when we reached the end of tfce
94 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
course and the man coolly began ascending the step.? of
the opposite hill, with the sled under his arm. But my com-
panions were waiting to see me return, so I mounted after
him, knelt again, and held my breath. This time, knowing
what was coming, I caught a glimpse of our descent, and
found that only the first plunge from the brink was threat-
ening. The lower part of the curve, which is nearly a
parabolic line, is more gradual, and the seeming headlong
fall does not last more than the tenth part of a second.
The sensation, nevertheless, is very powerful, having all the
attraction, without the reality, of danger.
The ice-hills in the Taurida Gardens were not so high,
and the descent was less abrupt: the course was the
smooth floor of an intervening lake, which was kept clear
for skating. Here I borrowed a sled, and was so elated at
performing the feat successfully, on the first attempt, that
I offered my services as charioteer to a lady rash enough
to accept them. The increased weight gave so much ad-
ditional impetus to the sled, and thus rendered its guidance
a more delicate matter. Finding that it began to turn even
before reaching the bottom, I put down my hand suddenly
upon the ice. The effect was like an explosion ; we struck
the edge of a snow-bank, and were thrown entirely over it
and deeply buried on the opposite side. The attendants
picked us up without relaxing a muscle of their grave, re-
spectful faces, and quietly swept the ice for another trial.
But after that I preferred descending alone.
Good skaters will go up and down these ice-hills on their
skates. The feat has a hazardous look, but I have seen it
performed by boys of twelve. The young Grand Dukes
who visited the Gardens generally contented themselves
with skating around the lake at not too violent a speed-
Some ladies of the court circle also timidly ventured to try
the amusement, but its introduction was too recent for their:
to show much proficiency. On the Neva, in fact, the English
were the best skaters. During the winter, one of them
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 96
crossed the Gulf to Cronstadt, a distance of twenty- two
miles, in about two hours.
Before Christmas, the Lapps came down from the North
with their reindeer, and pitched their tents on the river, in
front of the Winter Palace. Instead of the canoe-shaped
pulk, drawn by a single deer, they hitched four abreast to
an ordinary sled, and took half a dozen passengers at a
time, on a course of a mile, for a small fee. I tried it once,
for a child's sake, but found that the romance of reindeer
travel was lost without the pulk. The Russian sleighs are
very similar to our own for driving about the city : in very
cold weather, or for trips into the country, the kibitka, a
heavy closed carriage on runners, is used. To my eye,
the most dashing team in the world is the troika, or three-
spar, the thill-horse being trained to trot rapidly, while
the other two, very lightly and loosely harnessed, canter
on either side of him. From the ends of the thills
springs a wooden arch, called the duga, rising eighteen
inches above the horse's shoulder, and usually emblazoned
with gilding and brilliant colors. There was one magnifi-
cent troika on the Nevskoi Prospekt, the horses of which
were full-blooded, jet-black matches, and their harness
formed of overlapping silver scales. The Russians being
the best coachmen in the world, these teams dash past each
other at furious speed, often escaping collision by the
breadth of a hair, but never coming in violent contact.
With the approach of winter the nobility returned from
their estates, the diplomatists from their long summer va-
cation, the Imperial Court from Moscow, and the previous
social desolation of the capital came speedily to an end
There were dinners and routs in abundance, but the sea-
son of balls was not fairlv inaugurated until invitations had
*> O
been issued for the first at the Winter Palace. This is
usually a grand affair, the guests numbering from fifteen
hundred to two thousand. We were agreeably surprised at
finding half-past nine fixed as the hour of arrival, and
96 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
took pains to be punctual ; but there were already a hun-
dred yards of carriages in advance. The toilet, of course^
must be fully completed at home, and the huge pelisses of
fur so adjusted as not to disarrange head-dresses, lace, crin
oline, or uniform : the footmen, must be prompt, on reach-
ing the covered portal, to promote speedy alighting and
unwrapping, which being accomplished, each sits guard for
the night over his own special pile of pelisses and furred
boots.
When the dresses are shaken out and the gloves
smoothed, at the foot of the grand staircase, an usher, in a
short, bedizened red tunic and white knee-breeches, with a
cap surmounted by three colossal white plumes, steps before
you and leads the way onward through the spacious halls,
ablaze with light from thousands of wax candles. I always
admired the silent gravity of these ushers, and their slow,
majestic, almost mysterious inarch until one morning
at home, when I was visited by four common-looking Rus-
sians, in blue caftans, who bowed nearly to the floor and
muttered congratulations. It was a deputation of the Im-
perial ushers, making their rounds for New Year's gifts !
Although the streets of St. Petersburg are lighted with
gas, the palaces and private residences are still illuminated
only with wax candles. * Gas is considered plebeian, but it
has probably also been found to be disagreeable in the
close air of the hermetically sealed apartments. Candles
are used in such profusion that I am told thirty thousand
are required to light up an Imperial ball. The quadruple
rows of columns which support the Hall of St. George are
spirally entwined with garlands of wax-lights, and immense
chandeliers are suspended from the ceiling. The wicks
of each column are connected with threads dipped in some
inflammable mixture, and each thread, being kindled at
the bottom at the same instant, the light is carried in a few
seconds to every candle in the hall. This instantaneous
kindling of so many thousand wicks has a magical effect
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 97
At the door of the great hall the usher steps aside,
bows gravely, and returns, and one of the deputy masters
of ceremonies receives you. .These gentlemen are chosen
from among the most distinguished families of Russia, and
are, without exception, so remarkable for tact, kindness,
and discretion, that the multitude falls, almost uncon-
sciously, into the necessary observances ; and the perfection
of ceremony, which hides its own external indications, is
attained. Violations of etiquette are most rare, yet no
court in the world appears more simple and unconstrained
in its forms.
In less than fifteen minutes after the appointed time the
hall is filled, and a blast from the orchestra announces the
entrance of the Imperial family. The ministers and chief
personages of the court are already in their proper places,
and the representatives of foreign nations stand on one
side of the door-way in their established order of prece-
dence (determined by length of residence near the court),
with the ladies of their body on the opposite side.
Alexander II. was much brighter and more cheerful
than during the preceding summer. His care-worn, pre-
occupied air was gone; the dangers which then encom-
passed him had subsided ; the nobility, although still chaf-
ing fiercely against the decree of emancipation, were slowly
coming to the conclusion that its consummation is inevita-
ble ; and the Emperor began to feel that his great work
will be safely accomplished. His dark-green uniform well
becomes his stately figure :ind clearly chiseled, symmetri-
cal head. He is Nicholas recast in a softer mould, wherein
tenacity of purpose is substituted for rigid, inflexible will,
and the development of the nation at home supplants the
ambition for predominant political influence abroad. This
difference is expressed, despite the strong personal resem-
blance to his father, in the more frank and gentle eye, the
fuller and more sensitive mouth, and the rounder lines of
jaw and forehead. A free> natural directness of manner
7
98 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
and speech is his principal characteristic. He wears easily,
almost playfully, the yoke of court ceremonial, temporarily
casting it aside when troublesome. In two respects he
differs from most of the other European rulers whom I
have seen : he looks the sovereign, and he unbends as
gracefully and unostentatiously as a man risen from the
ranks of the people. There is evidently better stuff than
kings are generally made of in the Romanoff line.
Grace and refinement, rather than beauty, distinguish
the Empress, though her eyes and hair deserve the latter
epithet. She is an invalid, and appears pale and some-
what worn ; but there is no finer group of children in
Europe than those to whom she has given birth. Six sons
and one daughter are her jewels ; and of these, the third
son, Vladimir, is almost ideally handsome. Her dress was
at once simple and superb a cloud of snowy tulle, with
a scarf of pale-blue velvet, twisted with a chain of the
largest diamonds and tied with a knot and tassel of pearls
resting half-way down the skirt, as if it had slipped from
her waist. On another occasion, I remember her wearing
a crown of five stars, the centres of which were single
enormous rubies and the rays of diamonds, so set on invis-
ible wires that they burned in the air over her head. The
splendor which was a part of her role was always made
subordinate to rigid taste, and herein prominently distin-
guished her from many of the Russian ladies, who carried
great fortunes upon their heads, necks, and bosoms. I
had several opportunities of conversing with her, generally
upon Art and Literature, and was glad to find that she
had both read and thought, as well as seen. The honored
O *
author of " Evangeline " numbers her among his apprecia-
tive readers.
After their Majesties have made the circle of the diplo-
matic corps, the Polonaise, which always opens a Court
ball, commences. The Grand Dukes Nicholas and Mi-
chael (brothers of the Emperor), and the younger mem-
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 99
bcrs of the Imperial family, take part in it, the latter evi-
dently impatient for the succeeding quadrilles and waltres.
When this is finished, all palpable, obtrusive ceremony is
at an end. Dancing, conversation, cards, strolls through
the sumptuous halls, fill the hours. The Emperor wanders
freely through the crowd, saluting h'ere and there a friend,
exchanging badinage with the wittiest ladies (which they
all seem at liberty to give back, without the least embar-
rassment), or seeking out the scarred and gray-haired
officers who have come hither from all parts of the vast
empire. He does not scrutinize whether or not your back
is turned towards him as he passes. Once, on entering a
door rather hastily, I came within an ace of a personal col-
lision ; whereupon he laughed good-humoredly, caught me
by the hands, and saying, " It would have been a shock,
n'est-ce pas ? " hurried on.
To me the most delightful part of the Winter Palace
was the garden. It forms one of the suite of thirty halls,
some of them three hundred feet long, on the second story.
In this garden, which is perhaps a hundred feet square by
forty in height, rise clumps of Italian cypress and laurel
from beds of emerald turf and blooming hyacinths. In
the centre, a fountain showers over fern-covered rocks,
and the gravel-walks around the border are shaded by tall
camellia-trees in white and crimson bloom. Lamps of
frosted glass hang among the foliage, and diffuse a mellow
golden moonlight over the enchanted ground. The cor-
ridor adjoining the garden resembles a bosky alley, so
completely are the walls hidden by flowering shrubbery.
Leaving the Imperial family, and the kindred houses of
Leuchtenberg, Oldenburg, and Mecklenburg, all of which
are represented, let us devote a little atter tion to the
ladies, and the crowd of distinguished, though unroyal per-
sonages. The former are all decolletees, of course. even
the Countess , who. I am positively assured, is ninety-
five years old ; but I do not notice much uniformity of
100 BV-WAVS OF EUROPE.
taste, except in the matter of head-dresses. Chignon* have
not yet made their appearance, but there are huge coils
and sweeps of hair a mane-like munificence, so disposed
as to reveal the art and conceal the artifice. The orna
ments are chiefly flowers, though here and there I see
jewels, coral, mossy sticks, dead leaves, birds, and birds'-
nests. From the blonde locks of yonder princess hang
bunches of green brook-grass, and a fringe of the same
trails from her bosom and skirt : she resembles a fished-up
and restored Ophelia. Here passes a maiden with a
picket-fence of rose coral as a berthe, and she seems to
have another around the bottom of her dress ; but, as the
mist of tulle is brushed aside in passing, we can detect
that the latter is a clever chenHk imitation. There is an-
other with small moss-covered twigs arranged in the same
way ; and yet another with fifty black-lace butterflies, of
all sizes, clinging to her yellow satin skirt. All this swim-
ming and intermingling mass of color is dotted over with
sparkles of jewel-light ; and even the grand hall, with its
gilded columns and thousands of tapers, seems but a sober
frame for so gorgeous a picture.
I can only pick out a few of the notable men present,
because there is no space to give biographies as well as
portraits. That man of sixty, in rich civil uniform, who
entered with the Emp'eror, and who at once reminds an
American of Edward Everett both in face and in the pol-
ished grace and suavity of his manner, is one of the first
statesmen of Europe Prince Alexander Gortchakoff.
Of medium height and robust frame, with a keen, alert eye,
a broad, thoughtful forehead, and a wonderfully sagacious
mouth, the upper lip slightly covering the under one at the
corners, he immediately arrests your attention, and your eye
unconsciously follows him as he makes his way through the
crowd, with a friendly word for this man and an elegant
rapier-thrust for that. His predominant mood, however,
is a cheerful good nature ; his wit and irony belong
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 101
to the diplomatist than to the man. There is no sounder or
more prudent head in Russia.
But who is this son of Anak, approaching from the cor-
ridor? Towering a full head above the throng, a figure of
superb strength and perfect symmetry, we give him thai
hearty admiration which is due to a man who illustrates
and embellishes manhood. In this case we can give it
freely ; for that finely balanced head holds a clear, vig-
orous brain ; those large blue eyes look from the depths
of a frank, noble nature ; an<i/ in that broad breast beats
a heart warm with love for his country, and good-will for
his fellow-men, whether high or low. I* is Prince Su-
vdroff, the Military Governor of St. Petersburg. If I
were to spell his name " Suwarrow," you would know who
his grandfather was, and what place in Russian history he
fills. In a double sense the present Prince is cast in an
heroic mould. It speaks well for Russia that his qualities
are so truly appreciated. He is beloved by the people, and
trusted by the Imperial Government : for, while farm in his
administration of affairs, he is humane, while cautious,
energetic, and while shrewd and skillful, frank and
honest. A noble man, whose like I wish were oftener tc
be found in the world.
Here are two officers, engaged in earnest conversation
The little old man, with white hair, and thin, weather-
beaten, wrinkled face, is Admiral Baron Wrangel, whose
Arctic explorations on the northern coast of Siberia are
known to a\ geographers. Having read of them as a boy,
and then as things of the past, I was greatly delighted at
finding the brave old Admiral s'ill alive, and at the privi-
lege of taking his hand and hearing him talk in English
as fluent as my own. The young officer, with rosy face,
brown moustache, and profile strikingly like that of Gen-
eral McClellan. has already made his mark. He is Gen-
eral Ignatieflf, the most prominent young man of the em-
pire. Although scarcely thirty-five, he has already filled
102 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
special missions to Bukharia and Peking, and took a lead
ing part in the Treaty of Tientsin. At the time of which
I write, he was Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs and
Chief of the Asiatic Department.
I might mention Count Bludoff, the venerable President
of the Academy of Sciences ; General Todleben ; Admiral
Liittke ; and the distinguished members of the Galitzin.
Narischkin, Apraxin, Dolgorouky, and Scheremetieff fami-
lies, who are present, but by this time the interminable
mazourka is drawing to a close, and a master of ceremonies
suggests that we shall step into an adjoining hall to awail
the signal for supper. The refreshments previously fur-
nished consisted simply of tea, orgeat, and cooling drinks
made of cranberries, Arctic raspberries, and other fruits ;
it is two hours past midnight, and we may frankly confess
hunger.
While certain other guests are being gathered together,
I will mention another decoration of the halls, peculiar to
St. Petersburg. On either side of all the doors of com-
munication in the long range of halls, stands a negro in
rich oriental costume, reminding one of the mute palace-
guards in the Arabian tales. Happening to meet one of
these men in the Summer Garden, I addressed him in
Arabic ; but he knew only enough of the language to in-
form me that he was born in Dar-Fur. I presume, there-
fore, they were obtained in Constantinople. In the large
halls, which are illustrated with paintings of battles, in all
the Russian campaigns from Pultowa to Sebastopol, are
posted companies of soldiers at the farther end a differ-
ent regiment to each hall. For six hours these men and
their officers stand motionless as statues. Not a move-
ment, except now and then of the eyelid, can be detected
even their respiration seems to be suspended. There is
something weird and uncanny in such a preternatural
silence and apparent death-in-life. I became impressed
with the 'dea that some form of catalepsy had seized and
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 103
bound them in strong trance. The eyeballs were fixed:
they stared at me and saw me not : their hands were glued
to the weapons, and their feet to the floor. I suspect there
must have been some stolen relief when no guest happened
to be present, yet, come when I might, I found them un-
changed. When I reflected that the men were undoubtedly
very proud of the distinction they enjoyed, and that their
case demanded no sympathy, I could inspect and admire
them with an easy mind.
The Grand Chamberlain now advances, followed by the
Imperial family, behind which, in a certain order of pre-
cedence, the guestis fall into place, and we presently reach
a supper-hall, gleaming with silver and crystal. There
are five others, I am told, and each of the two thousand
guests has his chair and plate. In the centre stands the
Imperial table, on a low platform : between wonderful
epergnes of gold spreads a bed of hyacinths and crocuses.
Hundreds of other epergnes, of massive silver, flash from
the tables around. The forks and spoons are gold, the
decanters of frosted crystal, covered with silver vine-leaves ;
even the salt-cellars are works of art. It is quite proper'
that the supper should be substantial ; and as one such en-
tertainment is a pattern for all that succeed, I may be al-
lowed to mention the principal dishes : creme de Vorge, pate
de foie gras, cutlets of fowl, game, asparagus, and salad,
followed by fruits, ices, and bon-bons, and moistened with
claret, Sauterne, and Champagne. I confess, however, that
the superb silver chasing, and the balmy hyacinths which
almost leaved over my plate, feasted my senses quite as
much as the delicate viands.
After supper the company returns to the Hall of S(
George, a quadrille or two is danced to promote digestion,
and the members of the Imperial family, bowing first to
the diplomatic corps, and then to the other guests, retire
to the private apartments of the palace. Now we are at
liberty to leave, not sooner, and rapidly, yet not with
104 BY-WAYS OP EUfcOPE.
undigu.fied haste, seek the main staircase. Cloaking and
booting (Ivan being on hand, with eyes like a lynx) are
performed without regard to head-dress or uniform, and
we wait T-hile the carriages are being called, until the
proper pozlannik turns up. If we envied those who got ofl
sooner, we are now envied by those who still must wait,
bulky in black satin or cloth, in sable or raccoon skin. It
is half past three when we reach home, and there are still
six hours until sunrise.
The succeeding balls, whether given by the Grand
Dukes, the principal members of the Russian nobility, or
the heads of foreign legations, were conducted on the
same plan, except that, in the latter instances, the guests
were not so punctual in arriving. The pleasantest of the
season was one given by the Emperor in the Hermitage
Palace. The guests, only two hundred in number, were
bidden to come in ordinary evening-dress, and their Im-
perial Majesties moved about among them as simply and
unostentatiously as any well-bred American host and host-
ess. On a staircase at one side of the Moorish Hall sat a
distinguished Hungarian artist, sketching the scene, with
its principal figures, for a picture.
I was surprised to find how much true social culture ex-
ists in St. Petersburg.' Aristocratic manners, in their per-
fection, are simply democratic ; but this is a truth which is
scarcely recognized by the nobility of Germany, and only
partially by that of England. The habits of refined society
are very much the same everywhere. The man or woman
of real culture recognizes certain forms as necessary, that
social intercourse may be ordered instead of being arbitrary
and chaotic ; but these forms must not be allowed to limit
the free, expansive contact of mind with mind and charac-
ter with character which is the charm and blessing of society.
Those who meet within the same walls meet upon an equal
footing, and all accidental distinctions cease for the time. I
found these principles acted upon to quite as full an e*
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 105
tent as (perhaps even more so thau) they art it home.
One of the members of the Imperial family, even, expressed
to me the intense weariness occasioned by the observance
of the necessary forms of court life, and the wish that they
might be made as simple as possible.
I was interested in extending my acquaintance among
the Russian nobility, as they, to a certain extent, represent
the national culture. So far as my observations reached, I
found that the women were better read, and had more
general knowledge of art, literature, and even politics, than
the men. My most instructive intercourse was with the
former. It seemed that most men (here I am not speak-
ing of the members of the Imperial Government) had each
his specialty, beyond which he showed but a limited in
terest. There was one distinguished circle, however,
where the intellectual level of the conversation was as high
as I have ever found it anywhere, and where the only title
to admission prescribed by the noble host was the capacity
to take part in it. In that circle I heard not only the
Polish Question discussed, but the Unity or Diversity of
Races, Modern and Classic Art, Strauss, Emerson, and
Victor Hugo, the ladies contributing their share. At a
soiree given by the Princess Lvoff, I met Richard 'Wagner,
the composer, Rubinstein, the pianist, and a number of
artists and literary men.
A society, the head of which is a court, ami where ex-
ternals, of necessity, must be first considerea, is not the
place to seek for true and lasting intimacies ; out one may
find what is next best, in a social sense rheerful and
cordial intercourse. The circle of agreeable ind friendly
O *,
acquaintance continually enlarged ; and I leained to know
one friend (and perhaps one should hardly expect more
than that in any year) whom I shall not forgei, nor he me,
though we never meet again. The Russians have been
unjustly accused of a lack of that steady, tender, faithful
depth of character upon which friendship must rest Let
106 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
us not forget that one of Washington Irving's cleared
friends was Prince Dolgorouki.
Nevertheless, the constant succession of entertainments,
agreeable as they were, became in the end fatiguing to
quiet persons like ourselves. The routs and soirees, it is
true, were more informal and unceremonious : one was not
obliged to spend more than an hour at each, but then one
was not expected to arrive before eleven o'clock. We fell^
perforce, into the habits of the place, of sleeping two or
three hours after dinner, then rising, and after a cup of
strong tea, dressing for the evening. After Carnival, the
balls ceased ; but there were still frequent routs, until
Easter week closed the season.
I was indebted to Admiral Liittke, President of the Im-
perial Geographical Society, for an invitation to attend its
sessions, some of which were of the most interesting char-
acter. My great regret was, that a very imperfect knowl-
edge of the language prevented me from understanding
much of the proceedings. On one occasion, while a paper
on the survey of the Caspian Sea was being read, a tall,
stately gentleman, sitting at the table beside me, obligingly
translated all the principal facts into French, as they were
stated. I afterwards foynd that he was Count Panin, Min-
ister of Justice. In the transactions of the various literary
and scientific societies, the Russian language has now en-
tirely supplanted the French, although the latter keeps its
place in the salons, chiefly on account of the foreign ele-
ment. The Empress has weekly conversazioni, at which
only Russian is spoken, and to which no foreigners are
admitted. It is becoming fashionable to have visiting-
cards in both languages.
Of all the ceremonies which occurred during the winter,
that of New Year's Day (January 13th, N. S.) was most
interesting. After the members of the different legations
had called in a body to pay their respects to the Emperoi
and Empress, the latter received the ladies :f the Court
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 107
who, on this occasion, wore the national costume, in the
grand hall. We were permitted to witness the spectacle,
which is unique of its kind and wonderfully beautiful. The
Empress, having taken her place alone near one end of
the hall, with the Emperor and his family at a little dis-
tance on her right, the doors at the other end three hun-
dred feet distant were thrown open, and a gorgeous pro-
cession approached, sweeping past the gilded columns, and
growing with every step in color and splendor. The ladies
walked in single file, about eight feet apart, each holding
the train of the one preceding her. The costume consists
of a high, crescent-shaped head-dress of velvet covered with
jewels ; a short, embroidered corsage of silk or velvet, with
open sleeves ; a full skirt and sweeping train of velvet or
satin or moire, with a deep border of point-lace. As the
first lady approached the Empress, her successor dropped
the train, spreading it, by a dexterous movement, to its
full breadth on the polished floor. The lady, thus re-
leased, bent her knee, and took the Empress's hand to kiss
it, which the latter prevented by gracefully lifting her and
saluting her on the forehead. After a few words of con-
gratulation, she passed across the hall, making a profound
obeisance to the Emperor on the way.
This was the most trying part of the ceremony. She
was alone and unsupported, with all eyes upon her, and it
required no slight amount of skill and self-possession to
cross the hall, bow, and carry her superb train to the op-
posite side, without turning her back on the Imperial pres-
ence. At the end of an hour the dazzling group gathered
on the right equaled in numbers the long line marching up
on the left and still they came. It was a luxury of color,
scarcely to be described, all flowery and dewy tints, in
a setting of white and gold. There were crimson, maroon,
blue, lilac, salmon, peach-blossom, mauve, magenta, silver-
gray, pearl-rose, daffodil, pale orange, purple, pea-green,
sea-green, scarlet, violet, drab, and pink and, whether
108 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
by accident or design, the succession of colors nevei
shocked by too violent contrast. This was the perfection
of scenic effect ; and we lingered, enjoying it exquisitely,
until the last of several hundred ladies closed the radiant
spectacle.
The festival of Epiphany is celebrated by the blessing
of the waters of the Neva, followed by a grand military
review on the Admiralty Square. We were invited to
witness both ceremonies from the windows of the Winter
Palace, where, through the kindness of Prince Dolgorouki,
we obtained favorable points of view. As the ceremonies
last two or three hours, an elegant breakfast was served
to the guests in the Moorish Hall. The blessing of the
Neva is a religious festival, with the accompaniment of
tapers, incense, and chanting choirs, and we could only see
that the Emperor performed his part uncloaked and bare-
headed in the free/ing air, finishing by descending the
steps of an improvised chapel and well (the building an-
swered both purposes), and drinking the water from a hole
in the ice. Far and wide over the frozen surface similar
holes were cut, where, during the remainder of the day,
priests officiated, and thousands of the common people
were baptized by immersion. As they generally came out
covered with ice, warm booths were provided for them on
the banks, where they thawed themselves out, rejoicing
that they would now escape sickness or misfortune for a
year to come.
The review requires a practiced military pen to do it
justice, and I fear I must give up the attempt. It was a
" small review," only about twenty-five thousand troops be-
ing under arms. In the uniformity of size and build of
the men, exactness of equipment, and precision of move-
ment, it would be difficult to imagine anything more per-
fect All sense of the individual soldier was lost in the
grand sweep and wheel and march of the columns. The
Circassian chiefs, in their steel skull-caps and shirts of chain
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 109
mail seemed to have ridden into their places direct from
the Crusades. The Cossacks of the Don, the Ukraine, and
the Ural, managed their little brown or black horses (each
regiment having its own color) so wonderfully, that, as we
looked down upon them, each line resembled a giant cater-
pillar, moving sidewise with its thousand legs creeping as
one. These novel and picturesque elements constituted
the principal charm of the spectacle.
The passing away of winter was signalized by an increase
of daylight rather than a decrease of cold. The rivers
were still locked, the ice-hills frequented, the landscape
dull and dead ; but by the beginning of February we could
detect signs of the returning sun. When the sky was clear
(a thing of rarest occurrence), there was white light at noon-
day, instead of the mournful yellow or orange gloom of the
previous two months. After the change had fairly set in,
it proceeded more and more rapidly, until our sunshine was
increased at the rate of seven or eight minutes per day.
When the vernal equinox came, and we could sit down to
dinner at sunset, the spell of death seemed to be at last
broken. The fashionable drive, of an afternoon, changed
from the Nevskoi Prospekt to the Palace Quay on the
Neva : the Summer Garden was cleared of snow, and its
statues one by one unboxed ; in. fine days we could walk
there, and there coax back the faded color to a child's
face. There, too, walked Alexander II., one of the crowd,
leading his little daughter by the hand ; and thither, in a
plain little caleche, drove the Empress, with her youngest
baby on her lap.
But when the first ten days of April had passed and
there was still no sign of spring, we began to grow impa-
tient. How often I watched the hedges around the Michai-
loffsky Palace, knowing that the buds would there first
swell ! How we longed for a shimmer of green under the
browu grass, an alder tassel, a flush of yellow on the willow
wands, a sight of rushing green water ! One day, a week or
110 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
so later, we we.e engaged to dine on Vassili Ostrow. I l.ad
been busily occupied until late in the afternt ion, and when
we drove out upon the square, I glanced, as usual, towards
Peter the Great. Lo! behind him flashed and glittered
the free, the rejoicing Neva! Here and there floated a
cake of sullen ice, but the great river had bared his breast
to the sun, which welcomed him after six months of ab-
sence. The upper pontoon-bridges were already spanned
and crowded with travel, but the lower one, carried away
before it could be secured, had been borne down by the
stream and jammed against and under the solid granite
and iron of the Nikolai Bridge. There was a terrible
o
crowd and confusion at the latter place; all travel was
stopped, and we could get neither forward nor backward.
Presently, however, the Emperor appeared upon the scene ,'
order was the instant result ; the slow officials worked
with a will ; and we finally reached our host's residence
half an hour behind the time. As we returned, at night,
there was twilight along the northern sky, and the stars
sparkled on the crystal bosom of the river.
This was the snapping of winter's toughest fetter, but it
was not yet spring. Before I could detect any sign of re-
turning life in Nature, May had come. Then, little by
little, the twigs in the maYshy thickets began to show yel-
low and purple and brown, the lilac-buds to swell, and some
blades of fresh grass to peep forth in sheltered places.
This, although we had sixteen hours of sunshine, with an
evening twilight which shifted into dusky dawn under the
North Star! I think it was on the 13th of May that I
first realized that the season had changed, and for the last
O '
time saw the noble-hearted ruler who is the central figure
of these memories. The People's Festival a sort of
Russian May-day took place at Catharinenhof, a park
and palace of the famous Empress, near the shore of the
Finnish Gulf. The festival, that year, had an" unusual sig
oificance. On the 3d of March the edict of Emancipation
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. Ill
wras finally consummated, and twenty-two millions of serfs
became forever free : the Polish troubles and the monace
of the Western powers had consolidated the restless nobles
the patient people, and the plotting revolutionists, the or-
thodox and dissenting sects, into one great national party
resolved to support the Emperor and maintain the integ-
rity of the Russian territory: and thus the nation was
marvelously strengthened by the very blow intended to
cripple it.
At least a hundred thousand of the common people
(possibly, twice that number) were gathered together in
the park of Catharinenhof. There were booths, shows,
flying-horses, refreshment saloons, jugglers, circuses, bal-
loons, and exhibitions of all kinds : the sky was fair, the
turf green and elastic, and the swelling birch-buds scented
the air. I wandered about for hours, watching the lazy,
contented people, as they leaped and ran, rolled on the
grass, pulled off their big boots and aired their naked legs,
or laughed and sang in jolly chorus. About three in the
afternoon there was a movement in the main avenue of the
park. Hundreds of young mujiks appeared, running at
full speed, shouting out, tossing their caps high in the air,
and giving their long, blonde locks to the wind. Instantly
the crowd collected on each side, many springing like cats
into the trees ; booths and shows were deserted, and an
immense multitude hedged the avenue. Behind the leap-
ing, shouting, cap-tossing avant-garde came the Emperor,
with three sons and a dozen generals, on horseback, canter-
ing lightly. One cheer went up from scores of thousands ;
hats darkened the air ; eyes blazing with filial veneration
followed the stately figure of the monarch, as he passed by,
gratefully smiling and greeting on either hand. I stood
among the people and watched their faces. I saw the
phlegmatic Slavonic features transformed with a sudden
and powerful expression of love, of devotion, of gratitude,
and then I knew that the throne of Alexander II. rested
112 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
on a better basis than tradition or force. J saw therein an-
other side of this shrewd, cunning, patient, and childlike
race, whom no other European race yet understands and
appreciates a race yet in the germ, but with qualities
out of which a people, in the best sense of the word, may
be developed.
The month of May was dark, rainy, and cold ; and when
I left St. Petersburg, at its close, everybody said that a few
days would bring the summer. The leaves were opening,
almost visibly from hour to hour. Winter was really over,
and summer was just at the door , but I found, upon reflec-
tion, that I had not had the slightest experience of spring.
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZEL1
THE traveller who first reaches the Lake of Constance
at Lindau, or crosses that sheet of pale green water to one
of the ports on the opposite Swiss shore, cannot fail to
notice the bold heights to the southward which thrust
themselves between the opening of the Rhine Valley and
the long, undulating ridges of the Canton Thurgau. These
heights, broken by many a dimly hinted valley and ravine,
appear to be the front of an Alpine table-land. Houses
and villages, scattered over the steep ascending plane,
present themselves distinctly to the eye ; the various green
of forest and pasture land is rarely interrupted by the gray
of rocky walls ; and the afternoon sun touches the topmost
edge of each successive elevation with a sharp outline of
golden light, through the rich gloom of the shaded slopes.
Behind and over this region rise the serrated peaks of the
Sentis Alp, standing in advance of the farther ice-fields of
Glarus, like an outer fortress, garrisoned in summer by
the merest forlorn hope of snow.
The green fronts nearest the lake, and the lower lands
falling away to the right and left, belong to the Canton of
St. Gall ; but all aloft, beyond that frontier marked by the
sinking sun, lies the Appenzeller Landli, as it is called in
the endearing diminutive of the Swiss German tongue,
the Little Land of Appenzell.
If, leaving the Lake of Constance by the Rhine Valley,
you ascend to Ragatz and the Baths of Pfeffers, thence
turn westward to the Lake of Wallenstatt. cross into the
valley of the Toggenburg, and so make your way northward
and eastward around the base of the mountains back to
the starting point, you will have passed only through the
116 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
territory of St. Gall. Appenzell is an Alpine island, wholly
surrounded by the former canton. From whatever side
you approach, you must climb in order to get into it It is
a nearly circular tract, falling from the south towards the
aorth, but lifted, at almost every point, over the adjoining
ands. This altitude and isolation is an historical as well
\s a physical peculiarity. When the Abbots of St. Gall,
ifter having reduced the entire population of what is now
two cantons to serfdom, became more oppressive as their
power increased, it was the mountain shepherds who, in
the year 1403, struck the first blow for liberty. Once free,
they kept their freedom, and established a rude democracy
on the heights, similar in form and spirit to the league
which the Forest Cantons had founded nearly a century
before. An echo from the meadow of Griitli reached the
wild valleys around the Sentis, and Appenzell, by the mid-
dle of the fifteenth century, became one of the original
states out of which Switzerland has grown.
I find something very touching and admirable in this
fragment of hardly noticed history. The people isolated
themselves by their own act, held together, organized a
simple yet sufficient government, and maintained their
sturdy independence, while their brethren on every side,
in the richer lands below them, were fast bound in the
gyves of a priestly despotism. Individual liberty seems to
be a condition inseparable from mountain life ; that once
attained, all other influences are conservative in their char-
acter. The cantons of Unterwalden, Schwytz, Glarus, and
Appenzell retain to-day the simple, primitive forms of
democracy which had their origin in the spirit of the peo-
ple nearly six hundred years ago.
Twice had I looked up to the little mountain republic
from the lower lands to the northward, with the desire and
the determination to climb one day the green buttresses
which support it on every side ; so, when I left St. Gall on
% misty morning, in a little open carriage, bound for Trogen,
THE LITTLE LAND OP APPENZELL. lit
it was with the pleasant knowledge that a land almost un-
known to tourists lay before me. The only summer visit-
ors are invalids, mostly from Eastern Switzerland and
Germany, who go up to drink the whey of goats' milk ;
and, although the fabrics woven by the people are known
to the world of fashion in all countries, few indeed are the
travellers who turn aside from the near highways. The
landlord in St. Gall told me that his guests were almost
wholly commercial travellers, and my subsequent experi- '
ence among an unspoiled people convinced me that I was
almost a pioneer in the paths I traversed.
It was the last Saturday in April, and at least a month
too soon for the proper enjoyment of the journey ; but on
the following day the Landsgemeinde, or Assembly of the
People, was to be held at Hundwyl, in the manner and with
the ceremonies which have been annually observed for the
last three or four hundred years. This circumstance de-
termined the time of my visit. I wished to study the
character of an Alpine democracy, so pure that it has not
yet adopted even the representative principle, to be with
and among a portion of the Swiss people at a time when
they are most truly themselves, rather than look at them
through the medium of conventional guides, on lines of
travel which have now lost everything of Switzerland ex-
cept the scenery.
There was bad weather behind, and, I feared, bad
weather before me. " The sun will soon drive away these
mists," said the postilion, " and when we get up yonder,
you will see what a prospect there will be." In the rich
valley of St. Gall, out of which we mounted, the scattered
houses and cloud-like belts of blossoming cherry-trees
almost hid the green ; but it sloped up and down, on
either side of the rising road, glittering with flowers and
dew, in the flying gleams of sunshine. Over us hung
masses of gray cloud, which stretched across the valley,
hooded the opposite hills, and sank into a dense mass ovef
118 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
the Lake of Constance. As we passed through this
and rejoiced in the growing clearness of the upper sky, I
saw that my only prospect would be in cloud-land. After
many windings, along which the blossoms and buds of the
fruit-trees indicated the altitude as exactly as any barom-
eter, we finally reached the crest of the topmost height, the
frontier of Appenzell and the battle-field of Voglisegg.
where the herdsman first measured his strength with the
soldier and the monk, and was victorious.
"Whereabouts was the battle fought?" I asked the
postilion.
" Up and down, and all around here," said he, stopping
the carriage at the summit.
I stood up and looked to the north. Seen from above,
the mist had gathered into dense, rounded clouds, touched
with silver on their upper edges. They hung over the lake,
rolling into every bay and spreading from shore to shore,
so that not a gleam of water was visible ; but over their
heaving and tossing silence rose, far away, the mountains
of the four German states beyond the lake. An Alp in
Vorarlberg made a shining island in the sky. The postil-
ion was loud in his regrets, yet I thought the picture best
as it was. On the right jay the land of Appenzell not a
table-land, but a region of mountain ridge and summit, of
valley and deep, dark gorge, green as emerald up to the
line of snow, and so thickly studded with dwellings, grouped
or isolated, that there seemed to be one scattered village
as far as the eye could reach. To the south, over forests
of fir, the Sentis lifted his huge towers of rock, crowned
with white, wintry pyramids.
" Here, where we are," said the postilion, " was the first
battle ; but there was another, two years afterwards, over
there, the other side of Trogen, where the road goes down
to the Rhine. Stoss is the place, and there's a chapel built
on the very spot. Duke Frederick of Austria came to help
the Abbot Kuno, and the Appenzellers were only one to
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 119
ten against them. It was a great fight, they say, and the
worn en helped not with pikes and guns, but in this way :
they put on white shirts, and came out of the woods, above
where the fighting was going on. Now, when the Austrians
and the Abbot's people saw them, they thought there were
spirits helping the Appenzellers (the women were all white,
you see, and too far off to show plainly), and so they gave
up the fight after losing nine hundred knights and troopers.
After that, it was ordered that the women should go first
to the sacrament, so that no man might forget the help they
gave in that battle. And the people go every year to the
chapel, on the same day when it took place."
I looked, involuntarily, to find some difference in the pop-
ulation after passing the frontier. But I had not counted
upon the leveling influence which the same kind of labor
exercises, whether upon mountain or in valley. So long
as Appenzell was a land of herdsmen, many peculiarities
of costume, features, and manners must have remained.
For a long time, however, Outer-Rhoden, as this part of
the Canton is called, has shared with that part of St. Gall
which lies below it the manufacture of fine muslins and
embroideries. There are looms in almost every house, and
this fact explains the density of population and the signs
of wealth on every hand, which would otherwise puzzle
the stranger. The houses are not only so near together
that almost every man can call to his neighbors and be
heard, but they are large, stately, and even luxurious, in
contrast to the dwellings of other country people in Eu-
rope. The average population of Outer-Rhoden amounts
to four hundred and seventy-five persons to the square
mile, being nearly double that of the most thickly settled
portions of Holland.
If one could only transport a few of these houses to the
United States ! Our country architecture is not only hid
eous, but frequently unpractical, being at worst shanties,
gnd at best city residences set in the fields. An Appenzell
120 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
former lives in a house from forty to sixty feet square, and
rarely less than four stories in height The two upper sto-
ries, however, are narrowed by the high, steep roof, so thai
the true front of the house i one of the gables. The roof
projects at least four feet on all sides, giving shelter to bal-
conies of carved wood, which cross the front under each
row of windows. The outer walls are covered with upright,
overlapping shingles, not more than two or three inches
broad, and rounded at the ends, suggesting the scale armor
of ancient times. This covering secures the greatest warmth ;
and when the shingles have aquired from age that rich
burnt-sienna tint which no paint could exactly imitate, the
effect is exceedingly beautiful. The lowest story is gen-
erally of stone, plastered and whitewashed. The stories are
low (seven to eight feet), but the windows are placed side
by side, and each room is thoroughly lighted. Such a
house is very warm, very durable, and, without any appa-
rent expenditure of ornament, is externally so picturesque
that no ornament could improve it.
Many of the dwellings, I was told, could not be built
with the present means of the population, at the present
prices of labor and material. They date from the palmy
days of Appenzell industry, before machinery had reduced
the cost of the finer fabrics. Then, one successful manu-
facturer competed with another in the erection of showy
houses, and fifty thousand francs (a large sum for the
times) were frequently expended on a single dwelling.
The view of a broad Alpine landscape, dotted all over
with such beautiful homes, from the little shelf of green
hanging on the sides of a rocky gorge and the strips of
sunny pasture between the ascending forests, to the very
summits of the lower heights and the saddles between
them, was something quite new in my experience.
Turning around the point of Voglisegg, we made for
Trogen, one of the two capitals of Outer-Rhoden, which
lay before us, across the head of the deep and wild St
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 12]
Martin's Tobel. (Tobd is an Appenzell word, correspond-
ing precisely to the gulch of California.) My postilion
mounted, and the breathed horse trotted merrily along the
winding level. One stately house after another, with a
clump of fruit-trees on the sheltered side, and a row of
blooming hyacinths and wall-flowers on the balcony, passed
by on either side. The people we met were sunburnt and
ugly, but there was a rough air of self-reliance about them,
and they gave me a hearty " God greet you ! " one and all.
Just before reaching Trogen, the postilion pointed to an
old, black, tottering platform of masonry, rising out of a
green slope of turf on the right. The grass around it
seemed ranker than elsewhere.
This was the place of execution, where capital criminals
are still beheaded with the sword, in the sight of the people.
The postilion gave me an account, with all the horrible de-
tails, of the last execution, only three years ago, how the
murderer would not confess until he was brought out of
prison to hear the bells tolling for his victim's funeral,
how thereupon he was sentenced, and but I will not re-
late further. I have always considered the death penalty
a matter of policy rather than principle ; but the sight of
that blood-stained platform, the blood-fed weeds around it,
and the vision of the headsman, in his red mantle, looking
down upon the bared neck stretched upon the block, gave
me more horror of the custom than all the books and
speeches which have been said and written against it.
At Trogen I stopped at the principal inn, two centuries
old, the quaint front painted in fresco, the interior neat and
fresh as a new toy a very gem of a house ! The floor
>;pon which I entered from the street was paved with flat
stones. A solid wooden staircase, dark with age, led to the
guests' room in the second story. One side of this room
was given up to the windows, and there was a charming
hexagonal oriel in the corner. The low ceiling was of
Jrood, in panels the stove a massive tower, faced with por
122 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
celain tiles, the floor polished nearly into whiteness, and all
the doors, cup-boards, and tables, made of brown nut-wood,
gave an air of warmth and elegance to the apartment. All
other parts of the house were equally neat and orderly.
The hostess greeted me with, " Be you welcome ! " and set
about preparing dinner, as it was now nearly noon. In the
pauses of her work she came into the room to talk, and
was very ready to give information concerning the country
and people.
There were already a little table and three plates in the
oriel, and while I was occupied with my own dinner I did
not particularly notice the three persons who sat down to
theirs. The coarseness and harshness of their dialect,
however, presently struck my ear. It was pure Appenzell,
a German made up of singular and puzzling elisions, and
with a very strong guttural k and g, in addition to the ch.
Some knowledge of the Alemannic dialect of the Black
Forest enabled me to understand the subject of conversa-
tion, which, to my surprise, was the study of the classics !
It was like hearing an Irishman talk of Shelley's " Witch
of Atlas " in the broadest Tipperary brogue. I turned and
looked at the persons. They were well dressed young men,
evidently the best class of Appenzellers possibly tutors
in the schools of Trogen. Their speech in no wise differed
from that of the common herdsmen, except that they were
now and then obliged to use words which, being unknown
to the people, had escaped mutilation. I entered into con-
versation, to ascertain whether true German was not pos-
sible to them, since they must needs read and write the
language ; but, although they understood me, they could
only partly, and with evident difficulty, lay aside their own
patois. I found this to be the case everywhere throughout
the Canton. It is a circumstance so unusual, that, in spite
of myself, associating a rude dialect with ignorance, I was
always astonished when those who spoke it showed culture
and knowledge of the world.
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 123
The hostess provided me with a guide and pack-bearer
and I set out on foot across the country towards Hundwyl
This guide, Jakob by name, made me imagine that I had
come among a singular people. He was so short that he
could easily walk under my arm ; his gait was something
between a roll and a limp, although he stoutly disclaimed
lameness ; he laughed whenever I spoke to him, and an-
swered in a voice which seemed the cuneiform character
put into sound. First, there was an explosion of gutturals,
and then came a loud trumpet-tone, something like the
Honk ! honk ! of wild geese. Yet, when he placed his squat
figure behind a tavern table, and looked at me quietly with
his mouth shut, he was both handsome and distinguished
in appearance. We walked two miles together before I
guessed how to unravel his speech. It is almost as difficult
to learn a dialect as a new language, and but for the key
which the Alemannic gave me, I should have been utterly
at sea. Who, for instance, could ever guess that a' Ma g 'si,
pronounced " amaari " (the x representing a desperate gut-
tural), really stands for einen Mann gewesen f
The road was lively with country people, many of whom
were travelling in our own direction. Those we met in-
variably addressed us with "God greet you ! " or " Guat
ti ! " which it was easy to translate into "Good-day!"
Some of the men were brilliant in scarlet jackets, with
double rows of square silver buttons, and carried swords
under their arms ; they were bound for the Landsgemeinde,
whither the law of the Middle Ages still obliges them to
go armed. When I asked Jakob if he would accompany
me as far as Hundwyl, he answered, " I can't ; I daren't
go there without a black dress, and my sword, and a cylin-
der hat."
The wild Tobels, opening downward to the Lake of Con-
stance, which now shimmered afar through the gaps, were
left behind us, and we passed westward along a broken,
irregular valley. The vivid turf was sown with all the
124 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
flowers of spring, primrose, violet, buttercup, anemone
and veronica, faint, but sweetest-odored, and the heralds
of spring in all lands. So I gave little heed to the weird
lines of cloud, twisting through and between the severed
pyramids of the Sends, as if weaving the woof of storms.
The scenery was entirely lovely, and so novel in its popu-
lation and the labor which, in the long course of time, had
effaced its own hard traces, turning the mountains into
lifted lawns and parks of human delight, that my own slow
feet carried me through it too rapidly. We must havo
passed a slight water-shed somewhere, though I observed
none ; for the road gradually fell towards another region
of deeply cloven Tobels, with snowy mountains beyond.
The green of the landscape was so brilliant and uniform,
under the cold gray sky, that it almost destroyed the per-
spective, which rather depended on the houses and the
scattered woods of fir.
On a ridge, overlooking all this region, was the large
village of Teufen, nearly as grand as Trogen in its archi-
tecture. Here Jakob, whose service went no further, con-
ducted me to the " Pike " inn, and begged the landlady to
furnish me with " a' Me? " in his place. We had refresh-
ments together, and took leave with many shakings of the
hand and mutual wishes of good luck. The successor was
an old fellow of seventy, who had been a soldier in Hol-
land, and who with proper exertion could make his speech
intelligible. The people nowhere inquired after my busi-
ness or nationality. When the guide made the latter
known, they almost invariably said, " But, of course, you
were born in Appenzell ? " The idea of a traveller coming
among them, at least during this season of the year, did
not enter their heads. In Teufen, the large and hand-
some houses, the church and schools, led me, foolishly, to
hope for a less barbarous dialect ; but no, it was the same
thing everywhere.
The men in black, with swords under their arms in-
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 126
creased in number as we left the village. They were prob-
ably from the furthest parts of the Canton, and were thus
abridging the morrow's journey. The most of them, how-
ever turned aside from the road, and made their way to
one farm-house or another. I was tempted to follow their
example, as I feared that the little village of Hundwyl
would be crowded. But there was still time to claim pri-
vate hospitality, even if this should be the case, so we
marched steadily down the valley. The Sitter, a stream
fed by the Sentis, now roared below us, between high,
rocky walls, which are spanned by an iron bridge, two
hundred feet above the water. The roads of Outer-
Rhoden, built and kept in order by the people, are most
admirable. This little population of forty-eight thousand
souls has within the last fifteen years expended seven hun-
dred thousand dollars on means of communication. Since
the people govern themselves, and regulate their expenses,
and consequently their taxation, their willingness to bear
such a burden is a lesson to other lands.
After crossing the airy bridge, our road climbed along
the opposite side of the Tobel, to a village on a ridge thrust
out from the foot of the Hundwyl Alp, beyond which we
lost sight of Teufen and the beautiful valley of the Sitter.
We were now in the valley of the Urnasch, and a walk of
two miles more brought us to the village of Hundwyl. I was
encouraged, on approaching the little place, by seeing none
except the usual signs of occupation. There was a great
new tank before the fountain, and two or three fellows in
scarlet vests were filling their portable tubs for the even-
ing's supply ; a few children came to the doors to stare at
me, but there was no sign that any other stranger had
arrived.
" I'll take you to the Crown," said the guide ; " all the
Landamanner will be there in the morning, and the music;
and you'll see what our Appenzell government is." The
landlady gave me a welcome, and the promise of a lodging
126 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
whereupon I sat clown in peace, received the greetings of
all the members of the family, as they came and went, and
made myself familiar with their habits. There was only
rae other guest in the house, a man of dignified face
and intellectual head, who carried a sword tied up with an
umbrella, and must be, I supposed, one of the chief offi-
cials. He had so much the air of a reformer or a philoso-
pher that the members of a certain small faction at home
might have taken him for their beloved W. P. ; others
might have detected in him a resemblance to that true
philanthropist and gentleman W. L. G. ; and the believers
in the divinity of slavery would have accepted him as
Bishop . As no introductions are required in Ap-
penzell, I addressed myself to him, hoping to open a prof-
itable acquaintance ; but it was worse than Coleridge's ex-
perience with the lover of dumplings. His sentiments
may have been elevated and refined, for aught I knew, but
what were they? My trumpeter Jakob was more intel-
ligible than he ; his upper teeth were gone, and the muti-
lated words were mashed out of all remaining shape against
his gums. Then he had the singular habit of ejaculating
the word Ja ! (Yes!) in three different ways, after answer-
ing each of my questions. First, a decided, confirmatory
Ja ! then a pause, followed by a slow, interrogative Ja ? as
if it were the echo of some mental deubt ; and finally, after
a much longer pause, a profoundly melancholy, despond-
ing, conclusive Ja-a-a ! sighed forth from the very bottom
of his lungs. Even when I only said, " Good-morning!''
the next day, these ejaculations followed, in the same order
rf succession.
One may find a counterpart to this habit in the Wa'al
of the Yankee, except that the latter never is, nor could it
well be, so depressing to hear as the Ja of Appenzell.
In the evening a dozen persons gathered aiound one of
the long tables, and drank a pale, weak cider, made of ap-
ples and pears, and called " Most." I gave to one, witk
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 127
whom I found I could converse most easily, a glass of red
wine, whereupon he said, " It is very impudent in me to
take it."
Upon asking the same person how it was that I could
understand him so much more readily than the others, he
answered, " 0. I can talk the written language when I try,
but these others can't."
" Here," said I, pointing to the philosopher, " is one who
is quite incomprehensible."
" So he is to me."
They were all anxious to know whether our American
troubles were nearly over ; whether the President had the
power to do further harm (he had too much power, they
all thought) ; and whether our Congress could carry out
its plan of reconstruction. Lincoln they said, was the best
man we ever had ; when the play of " Lincoln's Death "
was performed in the theatre at St. Gall, a great many
Appenzellers hired omnibuses and went down from the
mountains to see it.
I was aroused at daybreak by the chiming of bells, and
soon afterwards muskets began to crack, near and far.
Then there were noises all over the house, and presently
what seemed to be a procession of horses or elephants be-
gan to thunder up and down the wooden stairs. In vain I
tried to snatch the last and best morning nap ; there was
no end to the racket. So I arose, dressed, and went forth
to observe. The inn was already transformed, from top to
bottom, into a vast booth for meat and drink. Bedding
and all other furniture had disappeared ; every room, and
even the open hall on each story, was filled with tables,
benches, and chairs. My friend of the previous evening,
who was going about with a white apron on and sleeves
rolled up, said to me : u I am to be one of the waiters to-
day. We have already made places for six hundred."
There were at least a dozen other amateur waiters on
hand and busy. The landlord wore a leathern apron, and
128 BY-WAYS OF EUBOPE.
went from room to room, blowing into the hole of a wooden
tap whidh he carried in his hand, as if thereby to collect
his ideas. A barrel of red and a barrel of white wine
stood on trestles in the guests' room, and they were already
filling the schoppins by hundreds and ranging them on
shelves, honestly filling, not as lager-bier is filled in New
York, one third foam, but waiting until the froth subsided,
and then pouring to the very brim. In the kitchen there
were three fires blazing, stacks of Bratwurst on the tables,
great kettles for the sour-krout and potatoes ; and eggs, let-
tuce, and other finer viands, for the dignitaries, on the
shelves. " Good morning," said the landlady, as I looked
into this sanctuary, " you see we are ready for them."
While I was taking my coffee, the landlord called the
waiters together, gave each a bag of small money for
change, and then delivered a short, practical address con-
cerning their duties for the day, who were to be trusted
and who not, how to keep order and prevent impatience,
and, above all, how to preserve a proper circulation, in or-
der that the greatest possible number of persons might be
entertained. He closed with : " Once again, take notice
and don't forget, every one of you, Most 10 rappen (2
cents), bread 10, Wurst 15, tongue 10, wine 25 and 40," etc.
In the village there were signs of preparation, but not a
dozen strangers had arrived. Wooden booths had been
built against some of the houses, and the owners thereof
were arranging their stores of gingerbread and coarse con-
fectionery ; on the open, grassy square, in front of the par-
sonage, stood a large platform, with a handsome railing
around it, but the green slope of the hill in front was as
deserted as an Alpine pasture. Looking westward over
the valley, however, I could already see dark figures mov-
ing along the distant paths. The morning was overcast,
but the Hundwyl Alp, streaked with snow, stood clear, and
there was a prospect of good weather for the important
day. As I loitered about the village, talking with the
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 12?
people, who, busy as they were, always found time for a
friendly word, the movement in the landscape increased
Out of firwoods, and over the ridges and out of the fold-
ings of the hills, came the Appenzellers, growing intd
groups, and then into lines, until steady processions began
to enter Hundwyl by every road. Every man was dressed
in black, with a rusty stove-pipe hat on his head, and a
sword and umbrella in his hand or under his arm.
From time to time the church bells chimed ; a brass
band played the old melodies of the Canton ; on each side
of the governing Landamman's place on the platform stood
a huge two-handed sword, centuries old, and the temper of
the gathering crowd became earnest and solemn. Six old
men, armed with pikes, walked about with an air of im-
portance i their duty was to preserve order, but they had
nothing to do. Policeman other than these, or soldier, was
not to be seen ; each man was a part of the government,
and felt his responsibility. Carriages, light carts, and hay
wagons, the latter filled with patriotic singers, now began
to arrive, and I took my way to the " Crown," in order to
witness the arrival of the members of the Council.
In order to make the proceedings of the day more intel-
ligible, I must first briefly sketch certain features of this
little democracy, which it possesses in common with three
other mountain cantons the primitive forms which the
republican principle assumed in Switzerland. In the first
place the government is only representative so far as is re-
quired for its permanent, practical operation. The highest
power in the land is the Landsgemeinde. or General Assem-
bly of the People, by whom the members of the Executive
Council are elected, and who alone can change, adopt, or
abolish any law. All citizens above the age of eighteen,
and all other Swiss citizens after a ye.ir's residence in the
Canton, are not only allowed, but required, to attend the
Landsgemeinde. There is a penalty for non-attendance.
Outer- Rhoden contains forty-eight thousand inhabitants,
8
180 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
of whom eleven thousand are under obligations to be pre
ent and vote, from beginning to end of the deliberations.
In Glarus and Unterwalden, where the population is
smaller, the right of discussion is still retained by these
assemblies, but in Appenzell it has been found expedieu
to abolish it. Any change in the law, however, is first
discussed in public meetings in the several communities,
then put into form by the Council, published, read from all
the pulpits for a month previous to the coming together
of the Landsgemeinde, and then voted upon. But if the
Council refuses to act upon the suggestion of any citizen
whomsoever, and he honestly considers the matter one of
importance, he is allowed to propose it directly to the peo-
ple, provided he do so briefly and in an orderly manner.
The Council, which may be called the executive power,
consists of the governing Landamman and six associates,
one of whom has the functions of treasurer, another of
military commander, in fact, a ministry on a small scale*
The service of the persons elected to the Council is obli-
gatory, and they receive no salaries. There is, it is true, a
secondary Council, composed of the first, and representa-
tives of the communities, one for every thousand inhabit-
ants, in order to administer more intelligently the various
departments of education, religion, justice, roads, the mili-
tia system, the poor, etc. ; but the Assembly of the People
can at any time reject or reverse its action. All citizens
are not only equal before the law, but are assured liberty
of conscience, of speech, and of labor. The right of sup-
port only belongs to those who are born citizens of the
Canton. The old restriction of the Heimathsrecht, the
claim to be supported at the expense of the community in
case of need, narrow and illiberal as it seems to us, pre-
vails all over Switzerland. In Appenzell a stranger can
only acquire the right, which is really the right of citizen-
ship, by paying twelve hundred francs into the cantonal
treasury.
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 131
The governing Landamman is elected for two years, but
the other members of the Council may be reflected from
year to year, as often as the people see fit. The obligation
to serve, therefore, may sometimes seriously incommode
the person chosen ; he cannot resign, and his only chance
of escape lies in leaving the Canton temporarily, and pub-
lishing his intention of quitting it altogether in case the
people refuse to release him from office ! This year, it
happened that two members of the Council had already
taken this step, while three others had appealed to the
people not to reelect them. The Landsgemeinde at Hun-
dwyl was to decide upon all these applications, and there-
fore promised to be of more than usual interest. The
people had had time to consider the matter, and it was sup-
posed had generally made up their minds ; yet I found no
one willing to give me a hint of their action in advance.
The two remaining members presently made their ap-
pearance, accompanied by the Chancellor, to whom I was
recommended. The latter kindly offered to accompany me
to the parsonage, the windows of which, directly in the
rear of the platform, would enable me to hear, as well as
see the proceedings. The clergyman, who was preparing
for the service which precedes the opening of the Lands'
gemeinde, showed me the nail upon which hung the key of
the study, and gave me liberty to take possession at any
time. The clock now struck nine, and a solemn peal of
bells announced the time of service. A little procession
formed in front of the inn ; first the music, then the cler-
gyman and the few members of the government, bare-
headed, and followed by the two Weibels (apparitors), who
wore long mantles, the right half white and the left half
black. The old pikemen walked on either side. The
people uncovered as the dignitaries took their way around
the church to the chancel door ; then as many as could be
accommodated entered at the front.
I entered with them, taking my place on the men's side
182 BY-WAYS !F EUROPE.
the sexes being divided, as is usual in Germany. Af>e
the hymn, in which boy's voices were charmingly heard
and the prayer, the clergyman took a text from Corin-
thians, and proceeded to preach a good, sound political
sermon, which, nevertheless, did not in the least shock the
honest piety of his hearers. I noticed with surprise that
most of the men put on their hats at the close of the
prayer. Only once did they remove them afterwards,
when the clergyman, after describing the duties before
them, and the evils and difficulties which beset every good
work, suddenly said, " Let us pray to God to help and
direct us ! " and interpolated a short prayer in the midst
of his sermon. The effect was all the more impressive,
because, though so unexpected, it was entirely simple ana
natural. These democrats of Appenzell have not yet made
the American discovery that pulpits are profaned by any
utterance of national sentiment, or any application of Chris-
tian doctrine to politics. They even hold their municipal
elections in the churches, and consider that the act of
voting is thereby solemnized, not that the holy building is
desecrated ! But then, you will say, this is the democracy
of the Middle Ages.
When the service was over, I could scarcely make my
way through the throrfg which had meanwhile collected.
The sun had come out hot above the Hundwyl Alp, and
turned the sides of the valley into slopes of dazzling sheen.
Already every table in the inns was filled, every window
crowded with heads, the square a dark mass of voters of
all ages and classes, lawyers and clergymen being packed
together with grooms and brown Alpine herdsmen ; and,
after the government had been solemnly escorted to its
private chamber, four musicians in antique costume an-
nounced, with drum and fife, the speedy opening of the
Assembly. But first came the singing societies of Heri-
sau, and forced their way into the centre of the throng
where they sang, simply yet grandly, the songs of Appen
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 133
ell. The people listened with silent satisfaction ; rot a
man seemed to think of applauding.
I took my place in the pastor's study, and inspected the
crowd. On the steep slope of the village square and the
rising field beyond, more than ten thousand men were
gathered, packed as closely as they could stand. The law
requires them to appear armed and " respectably dressed."
The short swords, very much like our marine cutlasses,
which they carried, were intended for show rather than
service. Very few wore them : sometimes they were tied
up with umbrellas, but generally carried loose in the hand
or under the arm. The rich manufacturers of Trogen and
Herisau and Teufen had belts and silver-mounted dress-
swords. With scarce an exception, every man was habited
in black, and wore a stove-pipe hat, but the latter was in
most cases brown and battered. Both circumstances were
thus explained to me : as the people vote with the uplifted
hand, the hat must be of a dark color, as a background, to
bring out the hands more distinctly ; then, since rain would
spoil a good hat (and it rains much at this season), they
generally take an old one. I could now understand the
advertisements of "second hand cylinder hats for sale,"
which I had noticed, the day before, in the newspapers of
the Canton. The slope of the hill was such that the hats
of the lower ranks concealed the faces of those imme-
diately behind, and the assembly was the darkest and den-
sest I ever beheld. Here and there the top of a scarlet
waistcoat flashed out of the cloud with astonishing bril-
liancy.
With solemn music, and attended by the apparitors, in
their two colored mantles, and the ancient pikemen, the
few officials ascended the platform. The chief of the two
Landammanner present took his station in front, between
the two-handed swords, and began to address the assembly.
Suddenly a dark cloud seemed to roll away from the faces
of the people ; commencing in front of the platform, and
134 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
spreading rapidly to the edges of the compact throng, the
hats disappeared, and the ten thousand faces, in the full
light of the sun, blended into a ruddy muss. But no ; each
head retained its separate character, and the most surpris-
ing circumstance of the scene was the distinctness with
which each human being held fast to his individuality in
the multitude. Nature has drawn no object with so firm a
hand, nor painted it with such tenacious clearness of color,
as the face of man. The inverted crescent of sharp light
had a different curve on each individual brow before me ;
the little illuminated dot on the end of the nose under it
hinted at the form of the nostrils in shadow. As the hats
had before concealed the faces, so now each face was re-
lieved against the breast of the man beyond, and in front
of me were thousands of heads to be seen, touching each
other like so many ovals drawn on a dark plane.
The address was neither so brief nor so practical as it
might have been. Earnest, well meant, and apparently
well received, there was nevertheless much in it which the
plain, semi-educated weavers and Alpadores in the assem-
bly could not possibly have comprehended ; as, for instance,
" May a garland of confidence be twined around your de-
liberations ! " At the close, the speaker said, " Let us
pray ! " and for a few' moments there were bowed heads
and utter silence. The first business was the financial
report for the year, which had been printed and distributed
among the people weeks before. They were now asked
whether they would appoint a commission to test its accu-
racy, but they unanimously declined to do so. The ques-
tion was put by one of the apparitors, who first removed
his cocked hat, and cried, in a tremendous voice, " Faith-
ful and beloved fellow-citizens, and brethren of the Union ! "
Now came the question of releasing the tired Landam-
niiinner of the previous year from office. The first appli-
cation in order was that of the governing Landamman,
Dr. Ziircher. The people voted directly thereupon ; there
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 186
was a strong division of sentiment, but the majority allowed
him to resign. His place was therefore to be filled at once.
The names of candidates were called out by the crowd.
There were six in all ; and as both the members of the
Council were among them, the latter summoned six well-
known citizens upon the platform, to decide the election.
The first vote reduced the number of candidates to two.
and the voting was then repeated until one of these re-
ceived an undoubted majority. Dr. Roth, of Teufen, was the
fortunate man. As soon as the decision was announced,
several swords were held up in the crowd to indicate
where the new governor was to be found. The musicians
and pikemen made a lane to him through the multitude,
and he was conducted to the platform with the sound of
fife and drum. He at once took his place between the
swords, and made a brief address, which the people heard
with uncovered heads. He did not yet, however, assume
the black silk mantle which belongs to his office. He was
a man of good presence, prompt, and self-possessed in man-
ner, and conducted the business of the day very success-
fully.
The election of the remaining members occupied much
more time. All the five applicants were released from
service, and with scarcely a dissenting hand : wherein, I
thought, the people showed very good sense. The case of
one of these officials, Herr Euler, was rather hard. He
was the Landesscickelmeister (Treasurer), and the law makes
him personally responsible for every farthing which passes
through his hands. Having, with the consent of the Coun-
cil, invested thirty thousand francs in a banking-house at
Rheineck, the failure of the house obliged him to pay this
sum out of his own pocket He did so, and then mad
preparations to leave the Canton in case his resignatiol
was not accepted.
For most of the places from ten to fourteen candidates
vrere named, and when these were reduced to two, neatly
136 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
equally balanced in popular favor, the voting became vefj
spirited. The apparitor, who was chosen on account of his
strength of voice (the candidates for the office must be
tested in this respect), had hard work that day. The same
formula must be repeated before every vote, in this wise :
" Herr Landamman, gentlemen, faithful and beloved fellow-
citizens and brethren of the Union, if it seems good to you
to choose so-and-so, as your treasurer for the coming year,
so lift up your hands ! " Then, all over the dark mass,
thousands of hands flew into the sunshine, rested a mo-
ment, and gradually sank with a fluttering motion, which
made me think of leaves flying from a hill-side forest in
the autumn winds. As each election was decided, and the
choice was announced, swords were lifted to show the loca-
tion of the new official in the crowd, and he was then
brought upon the platform with fife and drum. Nearly
two hours elapsed before the gaps were filled, and the gov-
ernment was again complete.
Then followed the election of judges for the judicial dis
tricts. who, in most cases, were almost unanimously re
elected. These are repeated from year to year, so long as
the people are satisfied. Nearly all the citizens of Outer-
Rhoden were before me ; I could distinctly see three fourths
of their faces, and I detected no expression except that of
a grave, conscientious interest in the proceedings. Their
patience was remarkable. Closely packed, man against
man, in the hot, still sunshine, they stood quietly for nearly
three hours, and voted upwards of two hundred and seven
times before the business of the day was completed. A
few old men on the edges of the crowd slipped away for a
quarter of an hour, in order, as one of them told me, " to
keep their stomachs from giving way entirely," and some
of the younger fellows took a schoppin of Most for the same
purpose ; but they generally returned and resumed their
places as soon as refreshed.
The close of the Landsgemeinde was one pf the most in*
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 137
pressive spectacles I ever witnessed. When the elections
were over and no further duty remained, the Pastor Etter
of Hundwyl ascended the platform. The governing Land-
amman assumed his black mantle of office, and, after f
brief prayer, took the oath of inauguration from the clergy-
man. He swore to further the prosperity and honor of the
land, to ward off misfortune from it, to uphold the Consti-
tution and laws, to protect the widows and orphans, and to
secure the equal rights of all, nor through favor, hostility,
gifts, or promises to be turned aside from doing the same.
The clergyman repeated the oath sentence by sentence,
both holding up the oath-fingers of the right hand, the
people looking on silent and uncovered.
The governing Landamman now turned to the assembly,
and read them their oath, that they likewise should further
the honor and prosperity of the land, preserve its freedom
and its equal rights, obey the laws, protect the Council and
the judges, take no gift or favor from any prince or poten-
tate, and that each one should accept and perform, to the
best of his ability, any service to which he might be chosen.
After this had been read, the Landamman lifted his right
hand, with the oath-fingers extended; his colleagues on
the platform, and every men of the ten or eleven thousand
present did the same. The silence was so profound that
the chirp of a bird on the hillside took entire possession
of the air. Then the Landamman slowly and solemnly
spoke these words: "I have well understood that which
has been read to me; I will always and exactly observe
it, faithfully and without reservation, so truly as I
wish and pray that God help me ! " At each pause, the
same words were repeated by every man, in a low, subdued
"X)ne The hush was else so complete, the words were
spoken with such measured firmness, that I caught each as
it came, not as from the lips of men, but from a vast super-
natural murmur in the air. The effect was indescribable.
F'ai off on the horizon was the white vision ot an Alp, but
138 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
all the hidden majesty of those supreme mountains WM
nothing to the scene before me. When the last words had
been spoken, the hands sank slowly, and the crowd stood a
moment locked together, with grave faces and gleaming
eyes, until the spirit that had descended upon them passed.
Then they dissolved ; the Landsgemeinde was over.
In my inn, I should think more than the expected six
hundred had found place. From garret to cellar, every
corner was occupied ; bread, wine, and steamy dishes
passed in a steady whirl from kitchen and tap-room into all
the roaring chambers. In the other inns it was the same,
and many took their drink and provender in the open air.
I met my philosopher of the previous evening, who said,
" Now, what do you think of our Landsgemeinde ? " and
followed my answer with his three Jo's, the last a more
desponding sigh than ever. Since the business was over,
I judged that the people would be less reserved which,
indeed, was the case. Nearly all with whom I spoke ex-
pressed their satisfaction with the day's work. I walked
through the crowds in all directions, vainly seeking for
personal beauty. There were few women present, but a
handsome man is only less beautiful than a beautiful
woman, and I like to look at the former when the latter is
absent. I was surprised at the great proportion of under-
sized men ; only weaving, in close rooms, for several gen-
erations, could have produced so many squat bodies and
short legs. The Appenzellers are neither a handsome nor
a picturesque race, and their language harmonizes with
their features ; but I learned, during that day at Hundwyl,
to like and to respect them.
Pastor Etter insisted on my dining with him ; two
younger clergymen were also guests, and my friend the
Chancellor Engwiller came to make further kind offers of
service. The people of each parish, I learned, elect their
own pastor, and pay him his salary. In municipal matters
the same democratic system prevails as in the cantonal
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELI.. 139
government. Education is well provided for, and the mor-
als of the community are watched and guarded by a com-
mittee consisting of the pastor and two officials elected by
the people. Outer-Khoden is almost exclusively Protes-
tant, while Inner-Rhoden the mountain region around
the Sentis is Catholic. Although thus geographically
and politically connected, there was formerly little inter-
course between the inhabitants of the two parts of the
Canton, owing to their religious differences ; but now thej
come together in a friendly way, and are beginning to in-
termarry.
After dinner, the officials departed in carriages, to the
sound of trumpets, and thousands of the people followed
Again the roads and paths leading away over the green
hills were dark with lines of pedestrians ; but a number of
those whose homes lay nearest to Hundwyl lingered to
drink and gossip out the day. A group of herdsmen, over
whose brown faces the high stove-pipe hat looked doubly
absurd, gathered in a ring, and while one of them yodelled
the Ram des Vaches of Appenzell, the others made an ac-
companiment with their voices, imitating the sound of cow^
bells. They were lusty, jolly fellows, and their song*
hardly came to an end. I saw one man who might be
considered as positively drunk, but no other who was more
than affectionately and socially excited. Towards sunset
they all dropped off, and when the twilight settled down
heavy, and threatening rain, there was no stranger but my-
self in the little village. " I have done tolerably well,"
said the landlord, " but I can't count my gains until day
after to-morrow, when the scores run up to-day must be
paid off." Considering that in my own bill lodging was
*et down at six, and breakfast at twelve cents, even the fif-
teen hundred guests whom he entertained during the day
could not have given him a very splendid profit.
Taking a weaver of the place as guide, I set off early
the next morning for the village of Appenzell, the capital
140 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
of Inner-Rhoden. The way led me back into the vallej
of the Sitter, thence up towards the Sentis Alp, winding
around and over a multitude of hills. The same smooth,
even, velvety carpet of grass was spread upon the land-
scape, covering every undulation of the syrface, except
where the rocks had frayed themselves through. There is
no greener land upon the earth. The grass, from centuries
of cultivation, has become so rich and nutritious, that the
inhabitants can no longer spare even a little patch of
ground for a vegetable garden, for the reason that the
same space produces more profit in hay. The green comes
up to their very doors, and they grudge even the foot-paths
which connect them with their neighbors. Their vegeta-
bles are brought up from the lower valleys of Thurgau.
The first mowing had commenced at the time of my visit,
and the farmers were employing irrigation and manure to
bring on the second crop. By this means they are enabled
to mow the same fields every five or six weeks. The pro-
cess gives the whole region a smoothness, a mellow splen-
dor of color, such as I never saw elsewhere, not even in
England.
A walk of two hours through such scenery brought me
out of the Sitter Tobel, and in sight of the little Alpine
basin in which lies Appenzell. It was raining slowly and
dismally, and the broken, snow-crowned peaks of the Ka-
mor and the Hohe Kasten stood like livid spectres of
mountains against the stormy sky. I made haste to reach
the compact, picturesque little town, and shelter myself in
an inn, where a landlady with rippled golden hair and fea-
tures like one of Dante Rossetti's women, offered me trout
for dinner. Out of the back window I looked for the shat-
tered summits of the Sentis, which rise five thousand feet
above the valley, but they were invisible. The vertical
walls of the Ebenalp. in which are the grotto and chapel
of Wildkirchli, towered over the nearer hills, and I saw
with regret that they were still above the snow line. It
THE LITTLE LA.ND OF APPENZELL. 141
was impossible to penetrate much further without better
weather; but I decided, while enjoying my trout, to mak
another trial to take the road to Urnasch, and thence
pass westward into the renowned valley of the Toggen
burg.
The people of Inner-Rhoden are the most picturesque
of the Appenzellers. The men wear a round skull-cap of
leather, sometimes brilliantly embroidered, a jacket of
coarse drilling, drawn on over the head, and occasionally
knee-breeches. Early in May the herdsmen leave their
winter homes in the valleys and go with their cattle to the
Matten, or lofty mountain pastures. The most intelligent
cows, selected as leaders for the herd, march, in advance,
with enormous bells, sometimes a foot in diameter, sus-
pended to their necks by bands of embroidered leather ;
then follow the others, and the bull, who, singularly enough
carries the milking-pail garlanded with flowers, between
his horns, brings up the rear. The Alpadores are in their
finest Sunday costume, and the sound of yodel-songs
the very voice of Alpine landscapes echoes from every
hill. Such a picture as this, under the cloudless blue of a
fortunate May day, makes the heart of the Appenzeller
light. He goes joyously up to his summer labor, and
makes his herb-cheese on the heights, while his wife
weaves and embroiders muslin in the valley until his re
turn.
In the afternoon I set out for Urnasch, with a bright
boy as guide. Hot gleams of sunshine now and then
struck like fire across the green mountains, and the Sentis
partly unveiled his stubborn forehead of rock. Behind
him, however, lowered inky thunder-clouds, and long before
the afternoon's journey was made it was raining below and
snowing aloft The scenery grew more broken and abrupt
the further I penetrated into the country, but it was every-
where as thickly peopled and as wonderfully cultivated
At Gonteu, there is a large building for the whey-cure of
142 BY-WAYS OF El ROPE.
overfed people of the world. A great many such, I was
told, come to Appenzell for the summer. Many of the
persons we met not only said, " God greet you ! " but im
mediately added, " Adieu ! " like the Salve et vale / of
classical times.
Beyond Gonten the road dropped into a wild ravine, the
continual windings of which rendered it very attractive. I
found enough to admire in every farm-house by the way-
side, with its warm wood-color, its quaint projecting bal-
conies, and coat of shingle mail. When the ravine opened,
and the deep valley of Urnasch, before me, appeared be-
tween cloven heights of snow, disclosing six or eight square
miles of perfect emerald, over which the village is scat-
lered, I was fully repaid for having pressed farther into the
heart of the land. There were still two hours until night,
and I might have gone on to the Rossfall, a cascade
three or four miles higher up the valley, but the clouds
were threatening, and the distant mountain-sides already
dim under the rain.
At the village inn I found several herdsmen and mechan-
ics, each with a bottle of Rheinthaler wine before him.
They were ready and willing to give me all the information
I needed. In order to reach the Toggenburg, they said, I
must go over the Kratzernwald. It was sometimes a dan-
gerous journey ; the snow was many cubits deep, and at
this time of the year it was frequently so soft, that a man
would sink to his hips. To-day, however, there had been
thunder, and after thunder the snow is always hard-packed,
so that you can walk on it ; but to cross the Kratzernwald
without a guide, never! For two hours you were in a
wild forest, not a house, nor even a Sennhutt' (heidsmau's
cabin) to be seen, and no proper path, but a clambering
hither and thither, in snow and mud ; with this weather,
yes, one could get into Toggenburg that way, they said, but
not alone, and only because there had been .thunder on the
mountains.
THE LITTLE LAND Of APPENZELL. 143
But all night the rain beat against my chamber window,
and in the morning the lower slopes on the mountains
were gray with new snow, which no thunder had packed.
Indigo-colored clouds lay heavily on all the Alpine peaks ,
the air was raw and chilly, and the roads slippery. In such
weather the scenery is not only shrouded, but the people
are shut up in their homes, wherefore further travel
would not have been repaid. I had already seen the greater
part of the little land, and so gave up my thwarted plans
the more cheerfully. When the post-omnibus for Herisau
came to the inn door, I took my seat therein, saying, like
Schiller's " Sennbub'," " Ihr Matten, lebt wohl! ihr sonnige
Weiden ! "
The country became softer and lovelier as the road grad-
ually fell towards Herisau, which is the richest and state-
liest town of the Canton. I saw little of it except the
hospitable home of my friend the Chancellor, for we had
brought the Alpine weather with us. The architecture of
the place, nevertheless, is charming, the town being com-
posed of country-houses, balconied and shingled, and set
down together in the most irregular way, every street shoot-
ing off at a different angle. A mile beyond, I reached the
edge of the mountain region, and again looked down upon
the prosperous valley of St. Gall. Below me was the rail-
way, and as I sped towards Zurich that afternoon, the top of
the Sentis, piercing through a mass of dark rain-clouds,
was my last glimpse of the Little Land cf Appenzell.
FROM PERPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT.
" GOT of France and into Spain," says the old nursery
rhyme ; but at the eastern base of the Pyrenees one seems
to have entered Spain before leaving France. The rich
vine-plains of Roussillon once belonged to the former
country ; they retain quite as distinct traces of the earlier
Moorish occupancy, and their people speak a dialect almost
identical with that of Catalonia. I do not remember the
old boundaries of the province, but I noticed the change
immediately after leaving Narbonne. Vine-green, with the
grays of olive and rock, were the only colors of the land-
scape. The towns, massive and perched upon elevations,
spoke of assault and defense ; the laborers in the fields
were brown, dark-haired, and grave, and the semi-African
silence of Spain seemed already to brood over the land.
I entered Perpignan under a heavy Moorish gateway,
and made my way to a hostel through narrow, tortuous
streets, between houses with projecting balconies, and win-
dows few and small, as in the Orient. The hostel, though
ambitiously calling itself a hotel, was filled with that
Mediterranean atmosphere and odor which you breathe
everywhere in Italy and the Levant, a single charac-
teristic flavor, in which, nevertheless, you fancy you detect
the exhalations of garlic, oranges, horses, cheese, and oil.
A mild whiff of it stimulates the imagination, and is no
detriment to physical comfort. When, at breakfast, red
mullet came upon the table, and oranges fresh from the
tree, I straightway took off my Northern nature as a gar-
ment, folded it and packed it neatly away in my knapsack,
and took, out in its stead, the light, beribboned, and be-
spangled Southern nature, which I had not worn for some
148 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
eight or nine years. It was like a dressii.g-gown after a
dress-coat, and I went about with a delightfully free play
of the mental and moral joints.
There were four hours before the departure of the dili-
gence for Spain, and I presume I might have seen various
historical or architectural sights of Perpignan ; but I was
really too comfortable for anything else than a lazy mean-
dering about the city, feeding my eyes on quaint houses
groups of people full of noise and gesture, the scarlet blos-
soms of the pomegranate, and the glitter of citron-leaves
in the gardens. A one-legged fellow, seven feet high, who
called himself a commissionaire, insisted on accompanying
me, and I finally accepted him, for two reasons; first, he
knew nothing whatever about the city ; and secondly, tour-
ists are so rare that he must have been very poor. His
wooden leg, moreover, easily kept pace with my loitering
steps, and though, as a matter of conscience, he sometimes
volunteered a little information, he took my silence meekly
and without offense. In this wise, I gained some pleasant
pictures of the place ; and the pictures which come with
least effort are those which remain freshest in memory.
There was one point, however, where my limping giant
made a stand, and set his will against expostulation or en-
treaty. I must see the avenue of sycamores, he said ; there
was plenty of time ; France, the world, hud no such avenue ;
it was near at hand ; every stranger went to see it and was
amazed ; and therewith he set off, without waiting for my
answer. I followed, for I saw that otherwise he would not
have considered his fee earned. The avenue of sycamores
was indeed all that he had promised. I had seen largei
trees in Syria and Negropont, but here was a triple avenue,
nearly half a mile in length, so trained and sculptured that
they rivaled the regularity of masonry. Each trunk, at
the height of ten or twelve feet, divided into two arms,
which then leaned outwards at the same angle, and mingled
their smaller boughs, fifty feet overhead The aisles be*
P1IRP1GNAN TO MONTSERRAT.
tween them thus took the form of very slender pyramids,
truncated near the top. If the elm gives the Gothic, this
was assuredly the Cyclopean arch. In the beginning, the
effect must have been artificially produced, but the trees
were now so old, and had so accustomed themselves to the
forms imposed, that no impression of force or restraint re-
mained. Through the roof of this superb green minster
not a beam of sunshine found its way. On the hard gravel
floor groups of peasants, soldiers, nurses, and children
strolled up and down, all with the careless and leisurely air
of a region where time has no particular value.
We passed a dark-haired and rather handsome gentle-
man and lady. " They are opera-singers, Italians," said my
companion, " and they are going with you in the diligence."
I looked at my watch and found that the hour of departure
had nearly arrived, and I should have barely time to pro-
cure a little Spanish money. When I reached the office,
the gentleman and lady were already installed in the two
corners of the coupe. My place, apparently, was between
them. The agent was politely handing me up the steps,
when the gentleman began to remonstrate ; but in France
the regulations are rigid, and he presently saw that the in-
trusion could not be prevented. With a sigl. and a groan
he gave up his comfortable corner to me, and took the
middle seat, for which I was booked ! " Will you have
your place ? " whispered the agent I shook my head.
" You get the best seat, don't you see ? " he resumed, " be-
cause " But the rest of the sentence was a wink and a
laugh. I am sure there is the least possible of a Don Juan
in my appearance ; yet this agent never lost an opportunity
to wink at me whenever he came near the diligence, and
I fancied I heard him humming to himself, as we drove
away,
" Ma nella Spagna mille e tre ! "
I endeavored to be reasonably courteous, without famili-
arity, towards the opera-singers, but the effect of the mali-
160 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
cious winks and smiles made the lady appear to me timid
and oppressed, and the gentleman an unexploded mine of
jealousy. My remarks were civilly if briefly answered, and
then they turned towards each other and began conversing
in a language which was not Italian, although melodious, nor
French, although nasal. I pricked up my ears and listened
more sharply than good manners allowed but only until
I had recognized the Portuguese tongue. Whomsoever I
may meet in wandering over the world, it rarely happens
that I cannot discover some common or " mutual " friend,
and in this instance I determined to try the experiment.
After preliminaries, which gently led the conversation to
Portugal, I asked,
" Do you happen to know Count M ?"
" Only by name."
"Or Senhor , a young man and an astronomer?"
" Very well ! " was the reply. " He is one of the most
distinguished young men of science in Portugal."
The ice was thereupon broken, and the gentleman be-
came communicative and agreeable. I saw, very soon, that
the pair were no more opera-singers than they were Ital-
ians ; that the lady was not timid, nor her husband jealous ;
but he had simply preferred, as any respectable husband
would, to give up his comfortable seat rather than have a
stranger thrust between himself and his wife.
Once out of Perpignan, the Pyrenees lay clear before
us. Over bare red hills, near at hand, rose a gray moun-
tain rampart, neither lofty nor formidable ; but westward,
between the valleys of the Tech and the Tet, towered
the solitary pyramid of the Canigou, streaked with snow-
filled ravines. The landscapes would have appeared bleak
and melancholy, but for the riotous growth of vines which
cover the plain and climb the hillsides wherever there is
room for a torrace of earth. These vines produce the dark,
rich wine of Roussillon, the best vintage of Southern
France. Hedges of aloes, clumps of Southern cypress,
FROM PERPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT. 151
poplars by the dry beds of winter streams, with brown tinis
in the houses and red in the soil, increased the resemblance
to Spain. Eough fellows, in rusty velvet, who now and
then dug their dangling heels into the sides of the mules
or asses they rode, were enough like arrieros or contraban-
distas to be the real article. Our stout and friendly coach-
man, even, was hailed by the name of Moreno, and spoke
French with a foreign accent.
At the post-station of Le Boulou, we left the plain of
Roussillon behind us. At this end of the Pyrenean chain
there are no such trumpet-names as Roncesvalles, Font-
arabia, and Bidassoa. Hannibal, Csesar, Charlemagne, and
the Saracens have marched through these defiles, and left
no grand historic footprint, but they will always keep the
interest which belongs to those natural barriers and division
walls whereby races and histories were once separated. It
was enough for me that here were the Pyrenees, and I
/
looked forward, perhaps, with a keener curiosity, to the char-
acter and forms of their scenery, than to the sentiment
which any historic association could produce. A broad and
perfect highway led us through shallow valleys, whose rocky
sides were hung with rows of olive-trees, into wilder and
more abrupt dells, where vegetation engaged in a struggle
with stone, and without man's help would have been driven
from the field. Over us the mountains lifted themselves in
bold bastions and parapets, disforested now, if those gray
upper plateaus ever bore forests, and of a uniform slaty
gray in tone except where reddish patches of oxidation
showed like the rust of age.
But, like " all waste and solitary places," the scenery had
its own peculiar charm. Poussin and Salvator Rosa would
havr seated themselves afresh at every twist of the glen,
and sketched the new picture which it unfolded. The huge
rocks, fallen from above, or shattered in the original up-
heaval of the chain, presented a thousand sharp, forcible
outlines and ragged facets of shadow, and the two native
152 BY-WAYS OF LUROPR.
growths of the Pyrenees box and cork-oak fringed
them as thickets or overhung them as trees, in the wildest
and most picturesque combinations. Indeed, during this
portion of the journey, I saw scores of sketches waiting for
the selected artist who has not yet come for them,
sketches full of strength and beauty, and with a harmony
of color as simple as the chord of triple tones in music.
When to their dark grays and greens came the scarlet Phry-
gian cap of the Catalonian, it was brighter than sunshine.
The French fortress of Bellegarde, crowning a drum-
shaped mass of rock, which blocked up the narrow valley
in front, announced our approach to the Spanish frontier.
The road wound back and forth as it climbed through a
stony wilderness to the mouth of a gorge under the fortress,
and I saw, before we entered this last gateway into Spain,
the peak of the Canigou touched with sunset, and the sweep
of plain beyond it black under the shadow of storm-clouds.
On either side were .some heaps of stone, left from forts
and chapels of the Middle Ages, indicating that we had al-
ready reached the summit of the pass, which is less than a
thousand feet above the sea-level. In ten minutes the
gorge opened, and we found ourselves suddenly rattling
along the one street of the gay French village of Perthus.
Officers from Bellegarde sat at the table in front of the
smart cafe, and drank absinthe ; soldiers in red trousers
chatted with the lively women who sold tobacco and gro-
ceries ; there were trees, little gardens, arbors of vine, and
the valley opened southwards, descending and broadening
towards a cloudless evening sky.
At the end of the village I saw a granite pyramid, with
the single word ' Gallia " engraved upon it; a few paces
farther, two marble posts bore the half-obliterated arms of
Spain. Here the diligence paused a moment, and an offi-
cer of customs took his seat beside the coachman. The
telegraph pole behind us was of barked pine, the next one
in front was painted gray ; the venti de. tabac became
FROM PEBPIGNAN TO MCNTSERRAT. 158
ettanco national, and the only overlapping of the two na-
tionalities vhich I observed all things else being sud-
denly and sharply divided was that some awkward and
dusty Spanish soldiers were walking up the street of Per-
thus. and some trim, jaunty French soldiers were walking
down the road, towards the first Spanish wine-shop. We
also went down, and swiftly, in the falling twilight, through
which, erelong, gardens and fields began to glimmer, am"
in half an hour drew up in the little Spanish town of La
Junquera, the ancient '< place of rushes." Here there was
a rapid and courteous examination of baggage, a call for
passports, which were opened and then handed back to us
without vise or fee being demanded, and we were declared
free to journey in Spain. Verily the world is becoming
civilized, when Spain, the moral satrapy of Rome, begins
to pull down her barriers and let the stranger in 1
I inspected our " insides," as they issued forth, and found,
in addition to a priest and three or four commercial indi-
viduals with a contraband air, a young French naval officer,
and an old German who was too practical for a professor
and too stubborn in his views to be anything else. He had
made fifteen journeys to Switzerland, he informed me,
knew Scotland from the Cheviots to John o' Groat's, and
now proposed the conquest of Spain. Here Moreno sum-
moned us to our places, and the diligence rolled onward.
Past groups of Catalans, in sandals and scarlet bonnets,
returning from the harvest fields ; past stacks of dusky
grain and shadowy olive-orchards ; past open houses, where
a single lamp sometimes flashed upon a woman's head :
past a bonfire, turning the cork-trees into transparent
bronze, cind past the sound of water, plunging undei the
idle mill-wheel, in the cool, delicious summer air. we
journeyed on. The stars were beginning to gather in the
sky, when square towers and masses of cubic houses rose
against them, and the steady roll of our wheels on the
smooth highway became a dreadful clatter on the rough
cobble-stones of Figueras.
154 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
The Pyrenees were already behind us ; the town over.
looks a wide, marshy plain. But the mountains make theii
vicinity felt in a peculiar manner. The north-wind, gath-
ered into the low pass of Bellegarde and drawn to a focus
of strength, blows down the opening valley with a force
which sometimes lays an embargo on travel. Diligences
are overturned, postilions blown out of their saddles, aiu!
pedestrians carried off their feet. The people then pray
to their saints that the tramontana may cease ; but, on the
other hand, as it is a very healthy wind, sweeping away
the feverish exhalations from the marshy soil, they get up
a grand annual procession to some mountain-shrine of the
Virgin, and pray that it may blow. So, when the Virgin
takes them at their word, the saints are invoked on the
other side, and the wonder is that both parties don't get
out of patience with the people of Figueras.
The diligence drew up at the door of a fonda, and
Moreno announced that we were to take supper and wait
until midnight. This was welcome news to all ; but the
old German drew me aside as we entered the house, and
whispered, " Now our stomachs are going to be tried."
" Not at all," I answered, " we shall find very good prov-
ender." " But the guide-book says it is very bad," he
persisted. And he looked despondent, even with a clean
table-cloth and a crisp roll of bread before him, until the
soup steamed under his nose. His face brightened at the
odor, grew radiant at the flavor, and long before we reached
the roast pullet and salad, he expressed his satisfaction
with Spanish cookery. With the dessert came a vino rancio,
full of summer fire, and the tongues of the company were
loosened. From the weather and the Paris Exposition
we leaped boldly into politics, and, being on SpaniEh soil,
discussed France and the Mexican business. The French
officer was silent and annoyed ; he was a pleastnt fellow,
and I, for one, had a little sympathy with Tiis annoyance,
but I could not help saying that all Americans (except thf
FROM PKRPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT.
Rev. ) considered the action of France as an out
rage and an impertinence, and were satisfied with her
miserable failure. The Spanish passengers nodded and
smiled.
I should not have spoken, had I foreseen one conse-
quence of my words. The German snatched the reins ol
conversation out of our hands, and dashed off at full speed,
trampling France and her ruler under his feet At the
first pause, I said to him, in German : " Pray don't be so
violent in your expressions, the gentleman beside me is
a naval officer." But he answered : " 1 don't care, I must,
speak my mind, which I could not do in Paris. France
has been the curse of Spain, as well as of all Europe, and
there will be no peace until we put a stop to her preten-
sions ! " Thereupon he said the same thing to the com-
pany ; but the Spaniards were too politic to acquiesce openly.
The officer replied, " France has not injured Spain, but,
on the contrary, has protected her ! " and he evidently had
not the slightest suspicion that there was anything offensive
in his words. The Spaniards still remained silent, but
another expression came into their eyes. It was time
to change the subject ; so the principle of non-intervention,
in its fullest, most literal sense, was proposed and ac-
cepted. A grave Majorcan gentleman distributed cigars ;
his daughter, with her soft, melodious voice, was oil to the
troubled waters, and before midnight we were all equally
courteous and cosmopolitan.
Of the four ensuing hours I can give no account.
Neither asleep nor awake, hearing with closed eyes or see-
with half-closed senses, one can never afterwards distinguish
between what is seen and what is dreamed. This is a
state in which the body may possibly obtain some rest, but
the mind becomes inexpressibly fatigued. One's memory
of it is a blurred sketch, a faded daguerreotype. I wel
corned that hour when
" The wind blows cold
While the morning doth unfold."
156 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
for it blow away this film, which usurped the place of the
blessed mantle of sleep. Chill, even here in African
Spain, where the pale pearl of the dawn foretold a burning
noon, and where, in May. the harvests were already reaped,
the morning brightened ; but we were near the end of the
journey. At sunrise, the towers of Girona stood fast and
firm over the misty level of the shimmering olive-groves ;
then the huge dull mass of the cathedral, the walls and
bastions of the hill-forts, which resisted a siege of seven
months during the Peninsular War, and finally the monot
onous streets of the lower town, through which we drove.
The industrious Catalans were already awake and stir-
ring. Smokes from domestic hearths warmed the cool
morning air ; cheerful noises of men, animals, and fowls
broke the silence ; doors were open as we entered the town,
and the women were combing and twisting their black
hair in the shadows within. At the post some brown
grooms lounged about the door. A priest passed, a gen-
uine Don Basilio, in inky gown and shovel hat ; and these
graceless grooms looked after him, thrust their tongues
into their cheeks, and made an irreverent grimace. The
agent at Perpignan came into my mind ; I winked at the
fellows, without any clear idea wherefore, but it must have
expressed something, fo'r they burst into a laugh and re
peated the grimace.
The lower town seemed to be of immense length. Once
out of it, a superb avenue of plane trees received us, at the
end of which was the railway station. In another hour the
train would leave for Barcelona. Our trunks must be
igain examined. When I asked the reason why this an-
noying regulation, obsolete elsewhere in Europe, is here
retained, the Spaniards gravely informed me that, if it were
abolished, a great many people would be thrown out of
employment. Not that they get much pay for the exam-
ination, but they are constantly bribed not to examine !
There was a cafe attached to the station, and I advised mj
FBOM PERPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT. 157
fellow-passengers to take a cup of the delicious .opy choco-
late of Spain, after which one accepts the inevitable more
patisr.tly.
I found the landscapes from Girona to Barcelona very
bright and beautiful. Our locomotive had fallen into the
national habit : it was stately and deliberate, it could not
be hurried, its very whistle was subdued and dignified.
We went forward at an easy pace, making about fifteen
miles an hour, which enabled me to notice the patient in-
dustry of the people, as manifested on every plain and hill-
side. The Catalans are called rough and ungraceful ; beside
the sprightly Andalusians they seem cold and repellent ;
they have less of that blue blood which makes the beggar as
proud as the grandee, but they possess the virtue of labor,
which, however our artistic tastes may undervalue it, is the
basis from which all good must spring. When I saw how
the red and rocky hills were turned into garden-terraces,
how the olive-trees were pruned into health and produc-
tiveness, how the wheat stood so thick that it rolled but
stiffly under the breeze, I forgot the jaunty majos of Seville,
and gave my hearty admiration to the strong-backed reap-
ers in the fields of Catalonia.
The passengers we took up on the way, though belong-
ing to the better class, and speaking Spanish whenever it
was necessary, all seemed to prefer the popular dialect.
Proprietors of estates and elegant young ladies conversed
together in the rough patois of the peasants, which to me
was especially tantalizing, because it sounded so familiar,
and yet was so unintelligible. It is in reality the old langue
limousine of France, kindred to the Proven9al, and differs
very slightly from the dialect spoken on the other side of
the Pyrenees. It is terse, forcible, and expressive, and I
must confess that the lisping Spanish, beside it, seems to
gain in melody at the expense of strength.
We approached Barcelona across the wide plain of the
Llobregat, where orange gardens and factory chimneys,
158 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
fountains " i* the midst of roses," and machine-shops full of
grimy workmen, succeed each other in a curious tangle oi
poetry and greasy fact The Mediterranean gleams in a
blue line on the left, the citadel of Monjuich crowns a bluff
in front ; but the level city hides itself behind the foliage
of the plain, and is not seen. At the station you wait half
an hour, until the baggage is again deposited on the dis-
secting-tables of the custom officers ; and here, if, instead
of joining the crowd of unhappy murmurers in the ante-
room, you take your station in the doorway, looking down
upon porters, peddlers, idlers, and policemen, you are sure
to be diverted by a little comedy acted in pantomime.
An outside porter has in some way interfered with the
rights of a station -povter ; a policeman steps between the
two, the latter of whom, lifting both hands to heaven in a
wild appeal, brings them down swiftly and thrusts them
out before him, as if descending to earthly justice. The
outsider goes through the same gestures, and then both,
with flashing eyes and open mouths, teeth glittering under
the drawn lips, await the decision. The policeman first
makes a sabre-cut with his right arm, then with his left ;
then also lifts his hands to heaven, shakes them there a
moment, and, turning as he brings them down, faces the
outside porter. The latter utters a passionate cry, and his
arms begin to rise ; but he is seized by the shoulder and
turned aside ; the crowd closes in, and the comedy is over.
We have a faint interest in Barcelona for the sake of
Columbus; but, apart from this one association, we set it
down beside Manchester, Lowell, and other manufacturing
cities. It was so crowded within its former walls, that
little space was left for architectural display. In many of
the streets I doubt whether four persons could walk
abreast. Only in the Rambla, a broad central boulevard, is
there any chance for air and sunshine, and all the leisure
and pleasure of the city is poured into this one avenue.
Since the useless walls have been removed, an ambitious
FROM PERPIGNAN TO MONTSEPRAT. 159
modern suburb is springing up on the west, and then; wilJ,
in time, be a new city better than the old.
This region appears to be the head- quarters of political
discontent in Spain, probably because the people get to
be more sensible of the misrule under which they languish,
in proportion as they become more active and industrious.
Nothing could have been more peaceable upon the surface
than the aspect of things ; the local newspapers never re-
ported any disturbance, yet intelligence of trouble in Cata-
lonia was circulating through the rest of Europe, and
something I could not ascertain precisely what it was
took place during my brief visit. The telegraph-wires
were cut, and some hundreds of soldiers were sent into the
country ; but the matter was never mentioned, unless two
persons whom I saw whispering together in the darkest cor-
ner of a cafe were discussing it. I believe, if a battle had
been fought within hearing of the cannon, the Barcelonese
would have gone about the streets with the same placid,
unconcerned faces. Whether this was cunning, phlegm,
or the ascendency of solid material interests over the fiery,
impulsive nature of the Spaniard, was not clear to a pass-
ing observer. In either case it was a prudent course.
If, in the darkened streets or rather lanes of Bar-
celona, I saw some suggestive pictures ; if the court-yard
of the cathedral, with its fountains and orange - trees,
seemed a thousand miles removed from the trade and
manufacture of the city ; if the issuing into sunshine on
the mole was like a blow in the eyes, to which the sapphire
bloom of the Mediterranean became a healing balm ; and
if the Rambla, towards evening, changed into a shifting
diorama of color and cheerful life, none of these things
inclined me to remain longer than the preparation for my
further journey required. Before reaching the city, I ,Sad
caught a glimpse, far up the valley of the Llobregat, ol' a
high, curiously serrated mountain, and that old book of the
u Wonders of the World" (now, alas ! driven from the
160 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
libraiy of childhood) opened its pages and showed its
rough woodcuts, in memory, to tell me what the mountain
was. How many times has that wonderful book been the
chief charm of my travels, causing me to forget Sulpicius
on the .^Egean Sea, Byron in Italy, and Humboldt in Mex-
ico!
To those who live in Barcelona, Montserrat has become
a common-place, the resort of Sunday excursions and pic-
nics, one fourth devotional, and three fourths epicurean.
Wild, mysterious, almost inaccessible as it stands in one's
fancy, it sinks at this distance into the very material atmos-
phere of railroad and omnibus ; but, for all that, we are
not going to give it up, though another " Wonder of the
World " should go by the board. Take the Tarragona
train then with me, on a cloudless afternoon. In a few
minutes the scattered suburban blocks are left behind, and
we enter the belt of villas, with their fountained terraces
and tropical gardens. More and more the dark red earth
shows through the thin foliage of the olives, as the hills
draw nearer, and it finally gives color to the landscapes.
The vines covering the levels and lower slopes are won-
derfully luxuriant ; but we can see how carefully they are
cultivated. Hedges of aloe and cactus divide them ; here
and there some underground cavern has tumbled in, let-
ting down irregular tracts of soil, and the vines still flour-
ish at the bottom of the pits thus made. As the plain
shrinks to a valley, the hills on either side ascend into
rounded summits, which begin to be dark with pine for-
este ; villages with square, brown church-towers perch on
the lower heights ; cotton-mills draw into their service the
scanty waters of the river, and the appearance of cheerful,
thrifty labor increases as the country becomes rougher.
All this time the serrated mountain is drawing nearer,
and breaking into a wilder confusion of pinnacles. It stands
alone, planted across the base of a triangular tract of open
country, a strange, solitary, exiled peak, drifted away
FBOM PERPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT. 161
in the beginning of things from its brethren of the Pyre-
nees, and stranded in a different geological period. This
circumstance must have long ago impressed the inhabit-
ants of the region even in the ante-historic ages. When
Christianity rendered a new set of traditions necessary,
the story arose that the mountain was thus split and shat-
tered at the moment when Christ breathed his last on the
cross of Calvary. This is still the popular belief; but the
singular formation of Montserrat, independent of it, was
sufficient to fix the anchoretic tastes of the early Christians.
It is set apart by Nature, not only towering above all the
surrounding heights, but drawing itself haughtily away
from contact with them, as if conscious of its earlier ori-
gin.
At the station of Martorel I left the train, and took a
coach which was in waiting for the village of Collbatd, at
the southern base of the mountain. My companion in the
coupe was a young cotton-manufacturer, who assured me
that in Spain the sky and soil were good, but the entresot
(namely, the human race) was bad. The interior was
crowded with country-women, each of whom seemed to
have four large baskets. I watched the driver for half an
hour attempting to light a broken cigar, and then rewarded
his astonishing patience with a fresh one, whereby we be-
came good friends. Such a peaceful light lay upon the
landscape, the people were so cheerful, the laborers worked
so quietly in the vineyards, that the thought of a political
disturbance the day before seemed very absurd. The
olive-trees, which clothed the hills wherever their bony
roots could find the least lodgment of soil, were of re-
markably healthy and vigorous growth, and the regular
cubic form into which they were pruned marked the climb-
ing terraces with long lines of gray light, as the sun
slanted across them.
" You see," said the Spaniard, as I noticed this peculiar
ity, * the entresol is a little better in this neighborhood than
162 BY-WAYS OP EUROPE.
elsewhere in Spain. The people cut the trees intc thii
shape in order that they may become more compact and
produce better ; besides which, the fruit is more easily
gathered. In all those orchards you will not find a decayed
or an unhealthy tree ; such are dug up and burned, and
young ones planted in their place."
At the village of Esparaguerra the other passengers
left, and I went on towards Collbatd alone. But I had
Montserrat for company, towering more grandly, more
brokenly, from minute to minute. Every change in the
foreground gave me a new picture. Now it was a clump
of olives with twisted trunks ; now an aloe, lifting its giant
candelabrum of blossoms from the edge of a rock ; now a
bank of dull vermilion earth, upon which goats were hang-
ing. The upper spires of the mountain disappeared be-
hind its basal buttresses of gray rock, a thousand feet in
perpendicular height, and the sinking sun, as it crept west-
ward, edged these, with sharp lines of light. Up, under
the tremendous cliffs, and already in shadow, lay Collbatd,
and I was presently set down at the gate of the posada.
Don Pedro, the host, came forward to meet and welcome
me, and his pretty daughter, sitting on the steps, rose up
and dropped a salute. In the entrance hall I read, painted
in large letters on tKe wall, the words of St. Augustine :
" In necessariis unitas ; in dubiis libertas ; in omnibus, caritas"
Verily, thought I, Don Pedro must be a character. I had
no sooner comfortably seated myself in the doorway to
contemplate the exquisite evening landscape, which the
Mediterranean bounded in the distance, and await my sup-
per, than Don Pedro ordered his daughter to bring the
guests' book, and then betook himself to the task of run-
ning down a lean chicken. In the record of ten years I
found that Germans were the most frequent visitors ; Amer-
icans appeared but thrice. One party of the latter regis-
tered themselves as " gentlemen," and stated that they had
een the " promanent points," which gave occasion to
PROM PERPIGNAN 10 MONTSERRAT. 163
later Englishman to comment upon the intelligence of
American gentlemen. The host's daughter, Pepita, was
the theme of praise in prose and raptures in poetry.
"Are you Pepita?" I asked, turning to the girl, who sat
on the steps before me, gazing into the evening sky with an
expression of the most indolent happiness. I noticed for
the first time, and admired, her firm, regular, almost Roman
profile and the dark masses of real hair on her head. Her
attitude, also, was very graceful, and she would have been,
to impressible eyes, a phantom of delight, but for the un-
graceful fact that she inveterately scratched herself when-
ever and wherever a flea happened to bite.
" No, senor," she answered ; " I am Carmen. Pepita
was married first, and then Mariquita. Angelita and my-
self are the only ones at home."
" I see there is also a poem to Angelita," I remarked,
turning over the last leaves.
" 0, that was a poet ! " said she, "a funny man ! Every-
body knows him : he writes for the theatre, and all that is
about some eggs which Angelita fried for him. We can't
understand it all, but we think it's good-natured."
Here the mother came, not as duenna, but as companion,
with her distaff and spindle, and talked and span until I
could no longer distinguish the thread against her gray
dress. When the lean chicken was set before me, Don
Pedro announced that a mule and guide would be in readi-
ness at sunrise, and I could, if I chose, mount to the top-
most peak of San Geronimo. In the base of the moun-
tain, near Collbato, there are spacious caverns, which most
travellers feel bound to visit ; but I think that six or seven
caves, one coal mine, and one gold mine are enough for a
life-time, and have renounced any further subterranean re-
searches. Why delve into those dark, moist, oppressive
crypts, when the blessed sunshine of years shows one so
little of the earth and of human life? Let any one that
chooses come and explore the caverns of Montserrat, and
164 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
then tell me (as people have a passion for doing), "Yon
missed the best ! " The best is that with which cine is satis-
fied.
Instead of five o'clock, when I should have been called,
I awoke naturally at six, and found that Don Pedro had
set out for San Geronimo four hours before, while neither
guide nor mule was forthcoming. The old woman pointed
to some specks far up in the shadow of the cliffs, which
she assured me were travellers, and would arrive with
mules in fifteen minutes. But I applied the words in dubiii
libertas, and insisted on an immediate animal and guide,
both of which, somewhat to my surprise, were produced.
The black mule was strong, and the lank old Catalan shoul-
dered my heavy valise and walked off without a murmur.
The sun was already hot ; but once risen above the last
painfully constructed terrace of olives, and climbing the
stony steep, we dipped into the cool shadow of the moun-
tain. The path was difficult but not dangerous, winding
upward through rocks fringed with dwarf ilex, box, and
mastic, which made the air fragrant. Thyme, wild flax,
and aconite blossomed in the crevices. The botany of the
mountain is as exceptional as its geology ; it includes five
hundred different species.
The box-tree, which my Catalan guide called bosch in his
dialect, is a reminiscence, wherever one sees it, of Italy
and Greece of ancient culture and art. Its odor, as
Holmes admirably says, suggests eternity. If it was not
the first plant that sprang up on the cooling planet, it
-ght to have been. Its glossy mounds, and rude, stat-
esque clumps, which often seem struggling to mould
themselves into human shape, cover with beauty the ter-
rible rocks of Montserrat. M. Delaviorne had warned me
O
of the dangers of the path I was pursuing, walls on one
side, and chasms a thousand feet deep on the other, but
l he box everywhere shaped itself into protecting figures,
and whispered as I went bj , " Never fear ; if you slip s I
will hold you ! "
FROM PEBPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT. 1(55
The mountain is an irregular cone, about thirty-five hun-
dred feet in height, and cleft down the middle by a torrent
which breaks through its walls on the northeastern side.
It presents a perpendicular face, which seems inaccessible,
for the shelves between the successive elevations, when
seen from below, appear as narrow fringes of vegetation,
growing out of one unbroken wall. They furnish, indeed,
but scanty room for the bridle-path, which at various points
is both excavated and supported by arches of masonry.
After nearly an hour, I found myself over Collbatd, upon
the roofs of which, it seemed, I might fling a stone. At
the next angle of the mountain, the crest was attained, and
I stood between the torn and scarred upper wilderness of
Montserrat on the one hand, and the broad, airy sweep of
landscape, bounded by the sea, on the other. To the north-
ward a similar cape thrust out its sheer walls against the
dim, dissolving distances, and it was necessary to climb
along the sides of the intervening gulf, which sank under
me into depths of shadow. Every step of the way was
inspiring, for there was the constant threat, without the
reality, of danger. My mule paced securely along the
giddy brinks; and through the path seemed to terminate fifty
paces ahead, I was always sure to find a loop-hole or coigne
of vantage which the box and mastic had hidden from sight.
So in another hour the opposite foreland was attained, and
from its crest I saw, all along the northern horizon, the
snowy wall of the Pyrenees.
Here a path branched off to the peak of San Geronimo,
a two hours' clamber through an absolute desert of rock.
My guide, although panting and sweating with his load,
proposed the ascent ; but in the film of heat which over-
spread the land I should have only had a wider panorama
n which all distinct forms were lost, vast, no doubt, but
as blurred and intangible as a metaphysical treatise. I
judged it better to follow the example of a pious peasant
and his wife whom we had overtaken, and who, setting
166 BY-WATS OF EUROPE.
their faces toward the renowned monastery, murmured an
Ave from time to time. Erelong, on emerging from the
thickets, we burst suddenly upon one of the wildest and
most wonderful pictures I ever beheld. A tremendous
wall of rock arose in front, crowned by colossal turrets,
pyramids, clubs, pillars, and ten-pin shaped masses, which
were drawn singly, or in groups of incredible distortion,
against the deep blue of the sky. At the foot of the rock,
the buildings of the monastery, huge and massive, the
church, the houses for pilgrims, and the narrow gardens,
completely filled and almost overhung a horizontal shelf
of the mountain, under which it again fell sheer away,
down, down into misty depths, the bottom of which was
hidden from sight. I dropped from the mule, sat down
upon the grass, and, under pretense of sketching, studied
this picture for an hour. In all the galleries of memory I
could find nothing resembling it.
The descriptions of Montserrat must have made a power-
ful impression upon. Goethe's mind, since he deliberately
appropriated the scenery for the fifth act of the Second
Part of Faust. Goethe was in the steadfast habit of choos-
ing a local and actual habitation for the creations of his
imagination ; his landscapes were always either painted
from nature, or copied from the sketch-books of others.
The marvelous choruses of the fifth act floated through
my mind as I drew ; the " Pater Ecstaticus " hovered in the
sunny air, the anchorites chanted from their caves, and the
mystic voices of the undeveloped child-spirits came between,
like the breathing of an ^Eolian harp. I suspect that the
sanctity of the mountain really depends as much upon iis
extraordinary forms, as upon the traditions which have beea
gradually attached to it. These latter, however, are so
strange and grotesque, that they could only be accepted
here.
The monastery owes its foui/dation to a miraculous statue
of the Virgin, sculptured by St. Luke, and brought to Spain
FROM PKRPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT. 16?
by no less a peisonage than St. Peter. In the year 880,
some shepherds who had climbed the mountain in search of
stray goats heard celestial harmonies among the rocks. This
phenomenon coming to the ears of Bishop Gondemar, he
climbed to the spot, and was led by the music to the mouth
of a cave, which exhaled a delicious perfume. There, en-
shrined in light, lay the sacred statue. Gondemar and his
priests, chanting as they went, set out for Manresa, the
seat of the diocese, carrying it with them ; but on reaching
a certain spot, they found it impossible to move farther.
The statue obstinately refused to accompany them which
was taken as a sign that there, and nowhere else, the shrine
should be built. Just below the monastery there still
stands a cross, with the inscription, " Here the Holy Image
declared itself immovable. 880."
The chapel when built was intrusted to the pious care
of Fray Juan Garin, whose hermitage is pointed out to you,
on a peak which seems accessible only to the eagle. The
Devil, however, interfered, as he always does in such cases.
He first entered into Riquilda. the daughter of the Count of
Barcelona, and then declared through her mouth that he
would not quit her body except by the order of Juan Garin,*
the hermit of Montserrat. Riquilda was therefore sent to
the mountain and given into the hermit's charge. A temp-
tation similar to that of St. Anthony followed, but with ex-
actly the opposite result. In order to conceal his sin, Juan
Garin cut off Riquilda's head, buried her, and fled. Over-
taken by remorse, he made his way to Rome, confessed him-
self to the Pope, and prayed for a punishment proportioned
to his crime. He was ordered to become a beast, never
lifting his face towards heaven, until the hour when God
Himself should signify his pardon.
Jjan Garin went forth from the Papal presence on his
hands and knees, crawled back to Montserrat, and there
lived seven years as a wild animal, eating grass and bark,
nnd never lifting his face towards heaven. At the end of
O
168 BY-WAYS OK EUROPE.
this time his body was entirely covered with hair, and it so
happened that the hunters of the count snared him as a
strange beast, put a chain around his neck, and took him
to Barcelona. In the mansion of the Count there was an
infant only five months old, in its nurse's arms. No sooner
had the child beheld the supposed animal, than it gave a
loud cry and exclaimed : " Rise up, Juan Garin ; God has
pardoned thee ! " Then, to the astonishment of all, the
beast arose and spoke in a human tongue. He told his
story, and the Count set out at once with him to the spot
where Riquilda was buried. They opened the grave and
the maiden rose up alive, with only a rosy mark, like a
thread, around her neck. In commemoration of so many
miracles, the Count founded the monastery.
At present, the monks retain but a fragment of their
former wealth and power. Their number is reduced to
nineteen, which is barely enough to guard the shrine, per-
form their offices, and prepare and bless the rosaries and
other articles of devotional traffic. I visited the church,
courts, and corridors, but took no pains to get sight of the
miraculous 'statue. I have already seen both the painting
and the sculpture of St. Luke, and think him one of the
worst artists that ever existed. Moreover, the place is fast
assuming a secular, not to say profane air. There is a
modern restaurant, with bill of fare and wine list, inside
the gate, ticket-office for travellers, and a daily omnibus to
the nearest railway station. Ladies in black mantillas
lounge about the court-yards, gentlemen smoke on the bal-
conies, and only the brown-faced peasant pilgrims, arriving
with weary feet, enter the church with an expression of awe
and of unquestioning faith. The enormous wealth which
he monastery once possessed the offering of kings
has disappeared in the vicissitudes of Spanish history, the
French, in 1811, being the last pillagers. Since then, the
treasures of gold and jewels have not returned ; for the
crowns offered to the Virgin by the city of Barcelona and
FROM PERPIGNAX TO MONTSERRAT. 169
by a rich American are of gilded silver, set with diamonds
of paste !
I loitered for hours on the narrow terraces around the
monastery, constantly finding some new and strange com
bination of forms in the architecture of the mountain.
The bright silver-gray of the rock contrasted finely with
the dark masses of eternal box, and there was an endless
play of light and shade as the sun burst suddenly through
some unsuspected gap, or hid himself behind one of the
giant ten-pins of the summit. The world below swam in
dim red undulations, for the color of the soil showed every-
where through its thin clothing of olive-trees. In hue as
in form, Montserrat had no fellowship with the surround
ing region.
The descent on the northern side is far less picturesque,
inasmuch as you are perched upon the front seat of an
omnibus, and have an excellent road a work of great
cost and labor the whole way. But, on the other hand,
you skirt the base of a number of the detached pillars and
pyramids into which the mountain separates, and gain fresh
pictures of its remarkable structure. There is one isolated
shaft, visible at a great distance, which I should judge to
be three hundred feet in height by forty or fifty in diameter.
At the western end, the outline is less precipitous, and
here the fields of vine and olive climb much higher than
elsewhere. In an hour from the time of leaving the mon-
astery, we were below the last rampart, rolling through
dust in the hot valley of the Llobregat, and tracing the
course of the invisible road across the walls of Montserrat,
with a feeling of incredulity that we had really descended
from such a point.
At the village of Montrisol, on the river, there is a large
cotton factory. The doors opened as we approached, and
the workmen came forth, their day's labor done. Men and
women, boys and girls, in red caps a"nd sandals, or bare-
headed and barefooted, they streamed merrily abng the
170 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE.
road, teeth and eyes flashing as they chatted and sang.
They were no pale, melancholy factory slaves, but joyous
and light-hearted children of labor, and, it seemed to me,
the proper successors of the useless idlers in the monastery
oi Montserrat. Up there, on the mountain, a system, all-
powerful in the past, was swiftly dying ; here, in the valley
was the first life of the only system that can give a future
to Spain.
BALEARIC DAYS.
i.
As the steamer Mallorca slowly moved out of the har-
bor of Barcelona, I made a rapid inspection of the passen-
gers gathered on deck, and found that I was the only
foreigner among them. Almost without exception they
were native Majorcans, returning from trips of business or
pleasure to the Continent. They spoke no language ex-
cept Spanish and Catalan, and held fast to all the little
habits and fashions of their insular life. If anything more
had been needed to show me that I was entering upon un-
trodden territory, it was supplied by the joyous surprise of
the steward when I gave him a fee. This fact reconciled
me to my isolation on board, and its attendant awkward-
ness.
I knew not why I should have chosen to visit the Bale-
anc Islands, unless for the simple reason that they lie so
much aside from the highways of travel, and are not rep-
resented in the journals and sketch-books of tourists. If
any one had asked me what I expected to see, I should
have been obliged to confess my ignorance ; for the few
dry geographical details which I possessed were like the
chemical analysis of a liquor wherefrom no one can recon-
struct the taste. The flavor of a land is a thing quite
apart from its statistics. There is no special guide-book
for the islands, and the slight notices in the works on
Spain only betray the haste of the authors to get over a
field with which they are unacquainted. But this very
circumstance, for me, had grown into a fascination. One
gets tired of studying the bill of fare in advance of the
repast. When the sun and the Spanish coast had set to-
gether behind the placid sea, I went to my berth with the
174 BY-WAYS OF EJKOPE.
delightful certainty that the sun of the morrow, and of
many days thereafter, would rise upon scenes and adven
tures which could not be anticipated.
The distance from Barcelona to Palma is about a hun-
dred and forty miles ; so the morning found us skirting
the southwestern extremity of Majorca a barren coast,
thrusting low headlands of gray rock into the sea, and hills
covered with parched and stunted chaparral in the rear.
The twelfth century, in the shape of a crumbling Moorish
watch-tower, alone greeted us. As we advanced eastward
into the Bay of Palma, however, the wild shrubbery
melted into plantations of olive, solitary houses of fisher-
men nestled in the coves, and finally a village, of those
soft ochre-tints which are a little brighter than the soil,
appeared on the slope of a hill. In front, through the
pale morning mist which still lay upon the sea, I saw the
cathedral of Palma, looming grand and large beside the
towers of other churches, and presently, gliding past a
mile or two of country villas and gardens, we entered the
crowded harbor.
Inside the mole there was a multitude of the light craft
of the Mediterranean, xebecs, feluccas, speronaras, or
however they may be termed, with here and there abrig-
antine which had come from beyond the Pillars of Her-
cules. Our steamer drew into her berth beside the quay,
and after a very deliberate review by the port physician we
were allowed to land. I found a porter, Arab in everything
but costume, and followed him through the water-gate into
the half-awake city. My destination was the Inn of the
" Four Nations," where I was cordially received, and after-
wards roundly swindled, by a French host My first de-
mand was for a native attendant, not so much from any need
of guide as simply to become more familiar with the people
thiough him ; but I was told that no such serviceable spirit
was to be had in the place. Strangers are so rare that a
class of people who live upon them has not yet been created
BALEARLC DAYS. 17o
u But how shall I find the Palace of the Government, or
the monastery of San Domingo, or anything else ? " 1
asked.
" 0, we will give you directions, so that you cannot miss
them," said the host ; but he laid before me such a confu-
sion of right turnings and left turnings, ups and downs,
that I became speedily bewildered, and set forth, deter-
mined to let the spirit in my feet guide me. A labyrinthine
place is Palma, and my first walks through the city were
so many games of chance. The streets are very narrow,
changing their direction, it seemed to me, at every tenth
step ; and whatever landmark one may select at the start
is soon shut from view by the high, dark houses. At first,
I was quite astray, but little by little I regained the lost
points of the compass.
After having had the Phoenicians, Greeks, Carthagin-
ians, Romans, Vandals, and Saracens as masters, Majorca
was first made Spanish by King Jaime of Aragon, the
Conquistador, in the year 1235. For a century after the
conquest it was an independent kingdom, and one of its
kings was slain by the English bowmen at the battle of
Crecy. The Spanish element has absorbed, but not yet
entirely obliterated, the characteristics of the earlier races
who inhabited the island. Were ethnology a more posi-
tively developed science, we might divide and classify this
confused inheritance of character ; as it is, we vaguely feel
the presence of something quaint, antique, and unusual, in
walking the streets of Palma, and mingling with the inhab-
itants. The traces of Moorish occupation are still notice-
able everywhere. Although the Saracenic architecture no
longer exists in its original forms, its details may be de-
tected in portals, court-yards, and balconies, in almost
every street. The conquerors endeavored to remodel the
city, but in doing so they preserved the very spirit which
they sought to destroy.
My wanderings, after all, were not wholly undirected
170 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
I found an. intelligent guide, who was at the same time an
old acquaintance. The whirligig of time brings about, not
merely its revenges, but also its compensations and coinci-
dences. Twenty-two years ago, when I was studying Ger-
man as a boy in the old city of Frankfort, guests from the
south of France came to visit the amiable family with
whom I was residing. They were M. Laurens, a painter
and a musical enthusiast, his wife, and Mademoiselle Ro-
salba, a daughter as fair as her name. Never shall I for-
o
get the curious letter which the artist wrote to the manager
of the theatre, requesting that Beethoven's Fidelio might
be given (and it was !) for his own especial benefit, nor the
triumphant air with which he came to us one day, sayingj
" I have something of most precious," and brought forth,
out of a dozen protecting envelopes, a single gray hair from
Beethoven's head. Nor shall I forget how Madame Lau-
rens taught us French plays, and how the fair Rosalba
declaimed Andre Che'nier to redeem her pawns ; but I
might have forgotten all these things, had it not been for
an old volume l which turned up at need, and which gave
me information, at once clear, precise, and attractive, con-
cerning the streets and edifices of Pal ma. The round,
solid head, earnest eyes, and abstracted air of the painter
came forth distinct from 'the limbo of things overlaid but
never lost, and went with me through the checkered blaze
and gloom of the city.
The monastery of San Domingo, which was the head-
quarters of the Inquisition, was spared by the progressive
government of Mendizahal, but destroyed by the people.
Its ruins must have been the most picturesque sight of
Palma ; but since the visit of M. Laurens they have been
removed, and their broken vaults and revealed torture-
chambers are no longer to be seen. There are, however,
l Souvtnirt <ftm Voyage d Art a flsle dt, Majorque,. Par J. B. Ln-
BALEARIC DAYS. 177
two or three buildings of more than ordinary interest. The
Casa Consistorial, or City Hall, is a massive Palladian pile
of the sixteenth century, resembling the old palaces of
Pisa and Florence, except in the circumstance that its
roof projects at least ten feet beyond the front, resting on
a massive cornice of carved wood with curious horizontal
caryatides in the place of brackets. The rich burnt-sienna
tint of the carvings contrasts finely with the golden-brown
of the massive marble walls a combination which is
shown in no other building of the Middle Ages. The
sunken rosettes, surrounded by raised arabesque borders,
between the caryatides, arc sculptured with such a care-
ful reference to the distance at which they must be seen,
that they appear as firm and delicate as if near the spec-
tator's eye.
The Cathedral, founded by the Conquistador, and built
upon, at intervals, for more than three centuries, is not yet
finished. It stands upon a natural platform of rock, over-
hanging the sea, where its grand dimensions produce the
greatest possible effect. In every view of Palma, it towers
solidly above the houses and bastioned walls, and insists
upon having the sky as a background for the light Gothic
pinnacles of its flying buttresses. The government has
recently undertaken its restoration, and a new front of
very admirable and harmonious design is about half com-
pleted. The soft amber-colored marble of Majorca is en-
riched in tint by exposure to the" air, and even when built
in large, unrelieved masses retains a bright and cheerful
character. The new portion of the cathedral, like the old,
has but little sculpture, except in the portals ; but that
little is so elegant that a greater profusion of ornament
would seem out of place.
Passing from the clear, dazzling day into the interior, one
finds himself, at first; in total darkness ; and the dimen-
sions of the nave nearly three hundred feet in length
by one hundred and forty in height are amplified by the
12
178 BT-WAYS OF EUROPE.
gloom. The wind, I was told, came through the windows
on the sea side with such force as to overturn the chalices,
and blow out the tapers on the altar, whereupon every
opening was walled up, except a rose at the end of the
chancel, and a few slits in the nave, above the sidwaisles.
A sombre twilight, like that of a stormy day, fills the edi-
fice. Here the rustling of stoles and the muttering of
prayers suggest incantation rather than worship ; the or-
gan has a hollow, sepulchral sound of lamentation ; and
there is a spirit of mystery and terror in the stale, clammy
air. The place resembles an ante-chamber of Purgatory
much more than of Heaven. The mummy of Don Jaime
II., son of the Conquistador and first king of Majorca, is
preserved in a sarcophagus of black marble. This is the
only historic monument in the Cathedral, unless the stran-
ger chooses to study the heraldry of the island families
from their shields suspended in the chapels.
When I returned to the " Four Nations " for breakfast, I
found at the table a gentleman of Palma, who invited me
to sit down and partake of his meal. For the first time
this Spanish custom, which really seems picturesque and
fraternal when coming from shepherds or muleteers in a
mountain inn, struck me as the hollowest of forms. The
gentleman knew that I would not accept his invitation, nor
he mine ; he knew, moreover, that I knew he did not wish
me to accept it. The phrase, under such conditions, be-
comes a cheat which offends the sacred spirit of hospitality.
How far the mere form may go was experienced by George
Sand, who having accepted the use of a carriage most ear-
nestly offered to her by a Majorcan count, found the equip-
age at her door, it is true, but with it a letter expressing
so much vexation, that she was forced to withdraw her ac-
ceptance of the favor at once, and to apologize for it ! I
have always found much hospitality among the common
people of Spain, and I doub/ not that the spirit exists in
all classes ; but it requires some practice to distinguish
BALEARIC DAYS. 17&
between empty phrase and the courtesy which comes from
the heart A people who boast of some special virtue gen-
erally do not possess it.
My own slight intercourse with the Majorcans was very
pleasant. On the day of my arrival, I endeavored to pro-
cure a map of the island, but none of the bookstores pos-
sessed the article. It could be found in one house in a
remote street, and one of the shopmen finally sent a boy
with me to the very door. When I offered money for the
service, my guide smiled, shook his head, and ran away.
The map was more than fifty years old, and drawn in the
style of two centuries ago, with groups of houses for the
villages, and long files of conical peaks for the mountains.
The woman brought it down, yellow and dusty, from a
dark garret over the shop, and seemed as delighted with
the sale as if she had received money for useless stock.
In the streets, the people inspected me curiously, as a
stranger, but were always ready to go out of their way to
guide me. The ground-floor being always open, all the
features of domestic life and of mechanical labor are ex-
posed to the public. The housewives, the masters and
apprentices, busy as they seem, manage to keep one eye
disengaged, and no one passes before them without notice.
Cooking, washing, sewing, tailoring, shoemaking, cooper-
ing, rope and basket making, succeed each other, as one
passes through the narrow streets. In the afternoon, the
mechanics frequently come forth and set up their business
in* the open air, where they can now and then greet a coun-
try acquaintance, or a city friend, or sweetheart.
When I found that the ruins of San Domingo had been
removed, and a statue of Isabella II. erected on the Ala-
meda, I began to suspect that the reign of old things was
over in Majorca. A little observation of the people made
this fact more evident. The island costume is no longer
worn by the young men, even in the country ; they have
passed into a very comica transition state. Old men
180 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
mounted on lean asses or mules, still enter the gates of
Palma, with handkerchiefs tied over their shaven crowns,
and long gray locks falling on their shoulders, with
short, loose jackets, shawls around the waist, and wide
Turkish trousers gathered at the knee. Their gaunt brown
legs are bare, and their feet protected by rude sandals.
Tall, large-boned, and stern of face, they hint both of
Vandal and of Moslem blood. The younger men are of
inferior stature, and nearly all bow-legged. They have
turned the flowing trousers into modern pantaloons, the
legs of which are cut like the old-fashioned gigot sleeve,
very big and baggy at the top, and tied with a drawing-
string around the waist. My first impression was, that the
men had got up in a great hurry, and put on their trousers
hinder end foremost. It would be difficult to invent a cos-
tume more awkward and ungraceful than this.
In the city the young girls wear a large triangular piece
of white or black lace, which covers the hair, and tightly
incloses the face, being fastened under the chin and the
ends brought down to a point on the breast. Their al-
mond-shaped eyes are large and fine, but there is very little
positive beauty among them. Most of the old country
women are veritable hags, and their appearance is not im-
proved by the broad-brimmed stove-pipe hats which they
wear. Seated astride on their donkeys, between panniers
of produce, they come in daily from the plains and moun-
tains, and you encounter them on all the roads leading out
of Palma. Few of the people speak any other language
than the Mallorquin, a variety of the Catalan, which, from
the frequency of the terminations in ch and tz, constantly
suggests the old Proven9al literature. The word vitch
(son) is both Celtic and Slavonic. Some Arabic terms
are also retained, though fewer, I think, than in Andalusia.
In the afternoon I walked out into the country. The
wall, on the land side, which is very high and massive, is
pierced by five guarded gates. The dry moat, both wide
BALEARIC LAYS. 181
and deep, is spanned by wooden bridges, after crossing
which one has the choice of a dozen highways, all scantily
shaded with rows of ragged mulberry-trees, glaring white
in the sun and deep in impalpable dry dust. But the
sea-breeze blows freshening across the parched land ; shad-
ows of light clouds cool the arid mountains in the distance ;
the olives roll into silvery undulations ; a palm in full, re-
joicing plumage rustles over your head ; and the huge
spatulate leaves of a banana in the nearest garden twist
and split into fringes. There is no languor in the air, no
sleep in the deluge of sunshine ; the landscape is active
with signs of work and travel. Wheat, wine, olives, al-
monds, and oranges are produced, not only side by side,
but from the same fields, and the painfully thorough sys-
tem of cultivation leaves not a rood of the soil unused.
1 had chosen, at random, a road which led me west
toward the nearest mountains, and in the course of an hour
I found myself at the entrance of a valley. Solitary farm-
houses, each as massive as the tower of a fortress and of
the color of sunburnt gold, studded the heights, overlook-
ing the long slopes of almond orchards. T looked about
for water, in order to make a sketch of the scene ; but the
bed of the brook was as dry as the highway. The nearest
house toward the plain had a splendid sentinel palm beside
its door, a dream of Egypt, which beckoned and drew
me towards it with a glamour I could not resist. Over the
wall of the garden the orange-trees lifted their mounds of
impenetrable foliage ; and the blossoms of the pomegran-
ates, sprinkled against such a background, were like coals
of fire. The fig-bearing cactus grew about the house in
clumps twenty feet high, covered with pale-yellow flowers.
The building was large and roomy, with a court-yard,
around which ran a shaded gallery. The farmer who was
issuing therefrom as I approached wore the shawl and
Turkish trousers of the old generation, while his two sons,
reaping in the adjoining wheat-fields, were hideous in th
182 BT-WAYS OF EUBOPK.
\
modern gigots. Although I was manifestly an intruder,
the old man greeted me respectfully, and passed oi_ to his
work. Three boys tended a drove of black hogs in the
stubble, and some women were so industriously weeding
and hoeing in the field beyond, that they scarcely stopped
to cast a glance upon the stranger. There was a grateful
air of peace, order, and contentment about the place ; no
one seemed to be suspicious, or even surprised, when I
seated myself upon a low wall, and watched the laborers.
The knoll upon which the farm-house stood sloped down
gently into the broad, rich plain of Palma, extending many
a league to the eastward. Its endless orchards made a
dim horizon-line, over which rose the solitary double-headed
mountain of Felaniche, and the tops of some peaks near
Arta. The city wall was visible on my right, and beyond
it a bright arc of the Mediterranean. The features of the
landscape, in fact, were so simple, that I fear I cannot
make its charm evident to the reader. Looking over the
nearer fields, I observed two peculiarities of Majorca, upon
which depends much of the prosperity of the island. The
wheat is certainly, as it is claimed to be, the finest of any
Mediterranean land. Its large, perfect grains furnish a
flour of such fine quality that the whole produce of the
island is sent to Spain for the pastry and confectionery of
the cities, while the Majorcans import a cheap, inferior
kind in its place. Their fortune depends on their absti-
nence from the good things which Providence has given
them. Their pork is greatly superior to that of Spain, and
it leaves them in like manner ; their best wines are now
bought up by speculators and exported for the fabrication
of sherry ; and their oil, which might be the finest in the
world, is so injured by imperfect methods of preservation
that it might pass for the worst. These things, however,
give them no annoyance. Southern races are sometimes
indolent, but rarely Epicurean in their habits; it is the
Northern man who sighs for his flesh-pots.
BALEARIC DAYS. 183
I walked forward between the fields towards anothei
road, and came upon a tract which had just been ploughed
and planted for a new crop. The soil was ridged in a
labyrinthine pattern, which appeared to ha\ e been drawn
with square and rule. But more remarkable than this was
the difference of level, so slight that the eye could not pos-
sibly detect it, by which the slender irrigating streams
were conducted to every square foot of the field, without a
drop being needlessly wasted. The system is an inherit-
ance from the Moors, who were the best natural engineers
the world has ever known. Water is scarce in Majorca,
and thus every stream, spring, rainfall even the dew of
heaven is utilized. Channels of masonry, often covered
to prevent evaporation, descend from the mountains, branch
into narrow veins, and visit every farm on the plain, what-
ever may be its level. Where these are not sufficient, the
rains are added to the reservoir, or a string of buckets,
turned by a mule, lifts the water from a well. But it is in
the economy of distributing water to the fields that the
most marvelous skill is exhibited. The grade of the sur-
face must not only be preserved, but the subtle, tricksy
spirit of water so delicately understood and humored that
the streams shall traverse the greatest amount of soil with
the least waste or wear. In this respect, the most skillful
application of science could not surpass the achievements
of the Majorcan farmers.
Working my way homeward through the tangled streets.
I was struck with the universal sound of wailing which
filled the city. All the tailors, shoemakers, and basket-
makers, at work in the open air, were singing, rarely in
measured strains, but with wild, irregular, lamentable cries,
exactly in the manner of the Arabs. Sometimes the song
was antiphonal, flung back and forth from the furthest
visible corners of a street ; and then it became a contest of
lungs, kept up for an hour at a time. While breakfasting,
I had heard, as I supposed, a miserere chanted by some
184 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
procession of monks, and wondered when the doleful strain*
would cease. I now saw that they came from the mouth*
of some cheerful coopers, who were heading barrels a little
further down the street. The Majorcans still have their
troubadours, who are hired by languishing lovers to im-
provise strains of longing or reproach under the windows
of the fair, and perhaps the latter may listen with delight ;
but I know of no place where the Enraged Musician would
so soon become insane. The isle is full of noises, and a
Caliban might say that they hurt not ; for me they mur-
dered sleep, both at midnight and at dawn.
I had decided to devote my second day to an excursion
to the mountain paradise of Valldemosa, and sallied forth
early, to seek the means of conveyance. . Up to this time I
had been worried tortured, I may say, without exagger-
ation by desperate efforts to recover the Spanish tongue,
which I had not spoken for fourteen years. I still had the
sense of possessing it, but in some old drawer of memory,
the lock of which had rusted and would not obey the key.
Like Mrs. Dombey with her pain, I felt as if there were
Spanish words somewhere in the room, but I could not
positively say that I had them a sensation which, as
everybody knows, is far worse than absolute ignorance. I
had taken a carriage for "Valldemosa, after a long talk with
the proprietor, a most agreeable fellow, when I suddenly
stopped, and exclaimed to myself, "You are talking
Spanish, did you know it? " It was even so : as much of
the language as I ever knew was suddenly and unaccount-
ably restored to me. On my return to the " Four Nations,"
I was still further surprised to find myself repeating songs,
without the failure of a line or word, which I had learned
from a Mexican as a school-boy, and had not thought of
for twenty years. The unused drawer had somehow been
.inlocked or broken open while I slept.
Valldemosa is about twelve miles north of "Palma, in the
heart of the only mountain-chain of the island, which form?
BALEARIC DAYS. 186
its western, or rather northwestern coast The average
altitude of these mountains will not exceed three thousand
feet ; but the broken, abrupt character of thur outlines, and
the naked glare of their immense precipitous walls, give
them that intrinsic grandeur which does not depend on
measurement. In their geological formation they resemble
the Pyrenees ; the rocks are of that palombino, or dove-
colored limestone, so common in Sicily and the Grecian
islands pale bluish gray, taking a soft orange tint on the
faces most exposed to the weather. Rising directly from
the sea on the west, they cease almost as suddenly on the
land side, leaving all the central portion of the island a
plain, slightly inclined toward the southeast, where occa-
sional peaks or irregular groups of hills interrupt its mo-
notony.
In due time my team made its appearance an omni-
bus of basket-work, with a canvas cover, drawn by two
horses. It had space enough for twelve persons, yet was
the smallest vehicle I could discover. There appears to be
nothing between it and the two-wheeled cart of the peas-
ant, which, on a pinch, carries six or eight. For an hour
and a half we traversed the teeming plain, between stacks
of wheat worthy to be laid on the altar at Eleusis, carob
trees with their dark, varnished foliage, almond-orchards
bending under the weight of their green nuts, and the
country houses with their garden clumps of orange, cactus,
and palm. As we drew near the base of the mountains,
olive-trees of great size and luxuriance covered the earth
O
with a fine sprinkle of shade. Their gnarled and knotted
trunks, a thousand years old, were frequently split into
three or four distinct and separate trees, which in the pro-
cess assumed forms so marvelously human in their distor-
tion, that I could scarcely believe them to be accidental.
Dore never drew anything so weird and grotesque. Here
were two club-headed individuals fighting, with interlocked
knees, convulsed shoulders, and fists full of each other*!
186 BY-WAYS OF EUBOPE.
hair ; yonder a bully was threatening attack, and three
cowards appeared to be running away from him with such
speed that they were tumbling over one another's heels.
In one place a horrible dragon was devouring a squirming,
shapeless animal ; in another, a drunken man, with whirl-
ing arms and tangled feet, was pitching forward upon his
face. The living wood in Dante was tame beside these
astonishing trees.
We now entered a wild ravine, where, nevertheless, the
mountain-sides, sheer and savage as they were, had suc-
cumbed to the rule of man, and nourished an olive or a
carob tree on every corner of earth between the rocks
The road was built along the edge of the deep, dry bed of
a winter stream, so narrow that a single arch carried i
from side to side, as the windings of the glen compelled.
After climbing thus for a mile in the shadows of threaten-
ing masses of rock, an amphitheatre of gardens, enframed
by the spurs of two grand, arid mountains, opened before
us. The bed of the valley was filled with vines and or-
chards, beyond which rose long terraces, dark with orange
and citron trees, obelisks of cypress and magnificent groups
of palm, with the long white front and shaded balconies
of a hacienda between. r Far up, on a higher plateau be-
tween the peaks I saw the church-tower of Valldemosa
The sides of the mountains were terraced with almost in-
credible labor, walls massive as the rock itself being raised
to a height of thirty feet, to gain a shelf of soil two or
three yards in breadth. Where the olive and the carob
ceased, box and ilex took possession of the inaccessible
points, carrying up the long waves of vegetation until their
foam-sprinkles of silver-gray faded out among the highest
clefts. The natural channels of the rock were straightened
and made to converge at the base, so that not a wandering
cloud could bathe th wild growths of the summit without
being caught and hurried into some tank below. The
wilderness was forced, by pure toil, to become a Paradise
BALEARIC DAYS. 187
and each stubborn feature, which toil could not subdue,
now takes its place as a contrast and an ornament in the
picture. Verily, there is nothing in all Italy so beautiful
as Valldemosa !
Lest I should be thought extravagant in my delight, let
me give you some words of George Sand, which I have
since read. " I have never seen," she says, "' anything so
bright, and at the same time so melancholy, as these per-
spectives where the ilex, the carob, pine, olive, poplar, and
cypress mingle their various hues in the hollows of the
mountain abysses of verdure, where the torrent precipi-
tates its course under mounds of sumptous richness and
an inimitable grace. .... While you hear the sound
of the sea on the northern coast, you perceive it only as a
faint shining line beyond the sinking mountains and the
great plain which is unrolled to the southward a sub-
lime picture, framed in the foreground by dark rocks cov-
ered with pines ; in the middle distance by mountains of
boldest outline, fringed with superb trees ; and beyond
these by rounded hills which the setting sun gilds with
burning colors, where the eye distinguishes, a league away,
the microscopic profile of trees, fine as the antennae of
butterflies, black and clear as pen-drawings of India ink on
a ground of sparkling gold. It is one of those landscapes
which oppress you because they leave -nothing to be desired,
nothing to be imagined. Nature has here created that
which the poet and the painter behold in their dreams.
An immense ensemble, infinite details, inexhaustible variety,
blended forms, sharp contours, dim, vanishing depths
all are present, and art can suggest nothing further.
Majorca is one of the most beautiful countries of the world
for the painter, and one of the least known. It is a green
Helvetia under the sky of Calabria, with the solemnity and
silence of the Orient."
The village of Valldemosa is a picturesque, rambling
place, brown with age, and buried in the foliage of fig and
188 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
orange trees. The highest part of the narrow plateau
where it stands is crowned by the church and monastery
of the Trappists ( Cartusa), now deserted. My coachman
drove under the open roof of a venta, and began to unhar-
ness his horses. The family, who were dining at a table so
low that they appeared to be sitting on the floor, gave me
the customary invitation to join them, and when I asked
for a glass of wine brought me one which held nearly a
qi.art. I could not long turn my back on the bright, won-
derful landscape without ; so, taking books and colors, I
entered the lonely- cloisters of the monastery. Followed
first by one small boy, I had a retinue of at least fifteen
children before I had completed the tour of the church,
court-yard, and the long drawn, shady corridors of the
silent monks ; and when I took my seat on the stones at
the foot of the tower, with the very scene described by
George Sand before my eyes, a number of older persons
added themselves to the group. A woman brought me a
chair, and the children then planted themselves in a dense
row before me, while I attempted to sketch under such
difficulties as I had never known before. Precisely be-
cause I am no artist, it makes me nervous to be watched
while drawing ; and the remarks of the young men on this
occasion were not calculated to give me courage.
When I had roughly mapped out the sky with its few
floating clouds, some one exclaimed, " He has finished the
mountains, there they are ! " and they all crowded around
me, saying, " Yes, there are the mountains ! " While J
was really engaged upon the mountains, there was a violent
discussion as to what they might be ; and I don't know how
long it would have lasted, had I not turned to some
cypresses nearer the foreground. Then a young man cried
out : " O, that's a cypress ! I wonder if he will make them
all, how many are there ? One, two, three, four, five,
yes, he makes five ! " There was an immediate rush, shut-
ting out earth and heaven from my sight, and they all
BALEARIC DATS. 189
cried in chorus, "One, two, three, four, fire yes, he has
made five ! "
" Cavaliers and ladies," I said, with solemn politeness
" have the goodness not to stand before me."
" To be sure ! Santa Maria ! How do you think he can
see ? " yelled an old woman, and the children were hustled
away. But I thereby won the ill-will of those garlic-
breathing and scratching imps, for very soon a shower of
water-drops fell upon my paper. Next a stick, thrown
from an upper window, dropped on my head, and more
than once my elbow was intentionally jogged from behind.
The older people scolded and threatened, but young
Majorca was evidently against me. I therefore made
haste to finish my impotent mimicry of air and light, and
get away from the curious crowd.
Behind the village there is a gleam of the sea, near, yet
at an unknown depth. As I threaded the walled lanes
seeking some point of view, a number of lusty young fel-
lows, mounted on unsaddled mules, passed me with a cour-
teous greeting. On one side rose a grand pile of rock,
covered with ilex-trees a bit of scenery so admirable,
that I fell into a new temptation. I climbed a little knoll
and looked around me. Far and near no children were to
be seen ; the portico of an unfinished house offered both
shade and seclusion. I concealed myself behind a pillar,
and went to work. For half an hour I was happy ; then a
round black head popped up over a garden wall, a small
brown form crept towards me, beckoned, and presently a
new multitude had assembled. The noise they made pro-
voked a sound of cursing from the interior of a stable ad-
joining the house. They only made a louder tumult in
answer ; the voice became more threatening, and at the
end of five minutes the door burst open. An old man,
with wrath flashing from his eyes, came forth. The chil-
dren took to their heels ; I greeted the new-comer politely,
but he hardly returned the salutation. He was a very
190 BT-WAYS OF EUBOPE.
fountain of curses, and now hurled stones wit/ rtieni aftc*
the fugitives. When they had all disappeared behind the
walls, he went back to his den, grumbling and muttering
It was not five minutes, however, before the children wero
back again, as noisy as before ; so, at the first thunder from
the stable, I shut up my book, and returned to the inn.
While the horses were being harnessed, I tried to talk
with an old native, who wore the island costume, and was
as gritn and grizzly as Ossawatomie Brown. A party of
country people from the plains, who seemed to have come
up to Valldemosa on a pleasure trip, clambered into a two-
wheeled cart drawn by one mule, and drove away. My
old friend gave me the distances of various places, the
state of the roads, and the quality of the wine ; but he
seemed to have no conception of the world outside of the
island. Indeed, to a native of the village, whose fortune
has simply placed him beyond the reach of want, what is
the rest of the world ? Around and before him spreads
one of its loveliest pictures ; he breathes its purest air ;
and he may enjoy its best luxuries, if he heeds or knows
how to use them.
Up to this day the proper spice and flavor had been
wanting. Palma had only interested me, but in Vallde-
mosa I found the inspiration, the heat and play of vivid,
keen sensation, which one (often somewhat unreasonably)
expects from a new land. As my carriage descended,
winding around the sides of the magnificent mountain
amphitheatre, in the alternate shadows of palm and ilex,
pine and olive, I looked back, clinging to every marvelous
picture, and saying to myself, over again, " I have not
come hither in vain." When the last shattered gate of
rock closed behind me, and the wood of insane olive-
trunks was passed, with what other eyes I looked upon the
rich orchard-plain ! It had now become a part of one
superb whole ; as the background of my mountain view, it
had caught a new glory, and still wore the bloom of the in
visible sea.
BALEARIC DAYS. 191
In the evening I reached the " Four Nations," where I
was needlessly invited to dinner by certain strangers, and
dined alone, on meats cooked in rancid oil. When the
cook had dished the last course, he came into a room ad-
joining the dining apartment, sat down to a piano in his
white cap, and played loud, long, and badly. The landlord
had papered this room with illustrations from all the period-
icals of Europe : dancing-girls pointed their toes under
cardinals' hats, and bulls were baited before the shrines of
saints. Mixed with the wood-cuts were the landlord's own
artistic productions, wonderful to behold. All the house
was proud of this room, and with reason ; for there is as-
suredly no other room like it in the world. A notice in
four languages, written with extraordinary flourishes, an-
nounced in the English division that travellers will find
" confortation and modest prices." The former advantage,
I discovered, consisted in the art of the landlord, the music
and oil of the cook, and the attendance of a servant so
distant that it was easier to serve myself than seek him ;
the latter may have been "modest" for Palma, but in any
other place they would have been considered brazenly im-
pertinent. I should therefore advise travellers to try the
" Three Pigeons," in the same street, rather than the
" Four Nations."
The next day, under the guidance of my old friend, M.
Laurens, I wandered for several hours through the streets?
peeping into court-yards, looking over garden-walls, or
idling under the trees of the Alameda. There are no
pleasant suburban places of resort, such as are to be found
in all other Spanish cities ; the country commences on the
other side of the moat. Three small cafes exist, but can-
not be said to flourish, for I never saw more than one
table occupied. A theatre has been built, but is only open
during the winter, of course. Some placards on the walls,
however, announced that the national (that is, Majorcan)
diversion of baiting bulls with dogs would be given in a
few days.
192 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
The noblesse appear to be even haughtier than in Spain
perhaps on account of their greater poverty ; and much
more of the feudal spirit lingers among them, and gives
character to society, than on the main-land. Each family
has still a crowd of retainers, who perform a certain amount
of service on the estates, and . are thenceforth entitled to
support. This custom is the reverse of profitable ; but it
keeps up an air of lordship, and is therefore retained.
Late in the afternoon, when the new portion of the Ala-
meda is in shadow, and swept by a delicious breeze from
the sea, it begins to be frequented by the people ; but I
noticed that very few of the upper class made their ap-
pearance. So grave and sombre are these latter, that one
would fancy them descended from the conquered Moors,
rather than the Spanish conquerors.
M. Laurens is of the opinion that the architecture of
Palma cannot be ascribed to an earlier period than the
beginning of the sixteenth century. I am satisfied, how-
ever, either that many fragments of Moorish sculpture
must have been used in the erection of the older buildings,
or that certain peculiarities of Moorish art have been
closely imitated. For instance, that Moorish combination
of vast, heavy masses of masonry with the lightest and
airiest style of ornamerft, which the Gothic sometimes at-
tempts, but never with the same success, is here found at
every step. I will borrow M. Laurens' words, descriptive
of the superior class of edifices, both because I can find no
better of my own, and because this very characteristic has
been noticed by him. " Above the ground-floor," he says,
" there is only one story and a low garret. The entrance
is a semi-circular portal without ornament ; but the num-
ber and dimensions of the stones, disposed in long radii,
give it a stately aspect. The grand haHs of the main story
are lighted by windows divided by excessively slender
columns, which are entirely Arabic in appearance. This
character is so pronounced, that I was obliged to examine
BALEARIC DAYS. 193
raore than twenty houses constructed in the same manner,
and to study all the details of their construction, in order
to assure myself that the windows had not really been
taken from those fairy Moresque palaces, of which the Al-
hambra is the only remaining specimen. Except in Ma-
jorca, I have nowhere seen columns which, with a height
of six feet, have a diameter of only three inches. The
fine grain of the marble of which they are made, as well
as the delicacy of the capitals, led me to suppose them to
be of Saracenic origin."
I was more impressed by the Lonja, or Exchange, than
any other building in Palma. It dates from the first half
of the fifteenth century, when the kings of the island had
built up a flourishing commerce, and expected to rival
Genoa and Venice. Its walls, once crowded with merchants
and seamen, are now only opened for the Carnival balls
and other festivals sanctioned by religion. It is a square
edifice, with light Gothic towers at the corners, displaying
little ornamental sculpture, but nevertheless a taste and
symmetry, in all its details, which are very rare in Spanish
architecture. The interior is a single vast hall, with a
groined roof, resting on six pillars of exquisite beauty.
They are sixty feet high, and fluted spirally from top to
bottom, like a twisted cord, with a diameter of not more
than two feet and a half. It is astonishing how the airy
lightness and grace of these pillars relieve the immense
mass of masonry, spare the bare walls the necessity of
ornament, and make the ponderous roof light as a tent.
There is here the trace of a law of which our modern ar-
chitects seem to be ignorant. Large masses of masonry
are always oppressive in their effect ; they suggest pain and
labor, and the Saracens, even more than the Greeks, seem
to have discovered the necessity of introducing a sportive,
fanciful element, which shall express the delight of the
workman in his work.
In the afternoon, I sallied forth from the western coast-
13
194 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
gate, and found there, sloping to the shore, a village inhab
ited apparently by sailors and fishermen. The houses
were of one story, flat-roofed, and brilliantly whitewashed.
Against the blue background of the sea, with here and
there the huge fronds of a palm rising from among them,
they made a truly African picture. On the brown ridge
above the village were fourteen huge windmills, nearly all
in motion. I found a road leading along the brink of the
overhanging cliffs, toward the castle of Belver, whose brown
mediaeval turrets rose against a gathering thunder-cloud
This fortress, built as a palace for the kings of Majorca
immediately after the expulsion of the Moors, is now a
prison. It has a superb situation, on the summit of a conical
hill, covered with umbrella-pines. In one of its round,
massive cowers, Arago was imprisoned for two months in
1808. He was at the time employed in measuring an arc
of the meridian, when news of Napoleon's violent meas-
ures in Spain reached Majorca. The ignorant populace
immediately suspected the astronomer of being a spy and
political agent, and would have lynched him at once.
Warned by a friend, he disguised himself as a sailor, es-
caped on board a boat in the harbor, and was then placed
in Belver by the authorities, in order to save his life. He
afterwards succeeded in reaching Algiers, where he was
seized by order of the Bey, and made to work as a slave.
Few men of science have known so much of the romance
of Hfe.
I had a long walk to Belver, but I was rewarded by a
grand view of the Bay of Palma, the city and all the south-
ern extremity of the island. I endeavored to get into the
fields, to seek other points of view ; but they were sur-
rounded by such lofty walls that I fancied the owners of
the soil could only get at them by scaling-ladders. The
grain and trees on either side of the road were hoary with
dust, and the soil, of the hue of burnt chalk, seemed never
to have known moisture. But while I loitered on the cliffs
BALEARIC DAYS. 196
the cloud in the west had risen and spread ; a cold wind
blew over the hills, and the high gray peaks behind Vail
detnosa disappeared, one by one, in a veil of rain. A
rough tartana, which performed the service of an omnibus,
passed me returning to the city, and the driver, having no
passengers, invited me to ride. " "What is your fare ? "
I asked. " Whatever people choose to give," said he,
which was reasonable enough ; and I thus reached the
u Four Nations " in time to avoid a deluge.
The Majorcans are fond of claiming their island as the
birthplace of Hannibal. There are some remains supposed
to be Carthaginian near the town of Alcudia, but, singularly
enough, not a fragment to tell of the Roman domination,
although their Balearis Major must have been then, as now,
a rich and important possession. The Saracens, rather
than the Vandals, have been the spoilers of ancient art
Their religious detestation of sculpture was at the bottom
of this destruction. The Christians could consecrate the
old temple to a new service, and give the names of saints
to the statues of the gods ; but to the Moslem every repre-
sentation of the human form was worse than blasphemy.
For this reason, the symbols of the most ancient faith, mas-
sive and unintelligible, have outlived the monuments of
those which followed.
In a forest of ancient oaks near the village of Arta,
there still exist a number of Cyclopean constructions, the
character of which is as uncertain as the date of their erec-
tion. They are cones of huge, irregular blocks, the jambs
and lintels of the entrances being of single stones. In a
few the opening is at the top, with rude projections resem-
bling a staircase to aid in the descent. Cinerary urns have
been found in some of them, yet they do not appear to
have been originally constructed as tombs. The Romans
may have afterwards turned them to that service. In the
vicinity there are the remains of a Druid circle, of large
upright monoliths. These singular structures were formerlj
196 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
much more numerous, the people (who call them " the al
tars of the Gentiles ") having destroyed a great many iu
building the village and the neighboring farm-houses.
I heard a great deal about a cavern on the eastern coast
of the island, beyond Arta. It is called the Hermit's Cave,
and the people of Palma consider it the principal thing to
be seen in all Majorca. Their descriptions of the place,
however, did not inspire me with any very lively desire to
undertake a two days' journey for the purpose of crawling
on the belly through a long hole, and then descending a
shaky rope-ladder for a hundred feet or more. When one
has performed these feats, they said, he finds himself in an
immense hall, supported by stalactitic pillars, the marvels
of which cannot be. described. Had the scenery of the
eastern part of the island been more attractive, I should
have gone as far as Arta ; but I wished to meet the steamer
Minorca at Alcudia, and there were but two days remain-
ing.
BALEARIC DAYS.
ii.
THE same spacious omnibus and span of dun-colored
ponies which had taken me to Valldemosa came to carry
me across the island. As there is an excellent highway,
and the distance to Alcudia is not more than ten leagues,
I could easily have made the journey in a day ; but I pur-
posely divided it, in order to secure a quiet, unhurried en-
joyment of the scenery of the interior. It had rained
violently all night, and the morning of my departure from
Palma was cold and overcast. The coachman informed
me that four months bad elapsed since a drop of rain had
fallen, and that Tor two years past the island had suffered
from drought. I therefore wrapped myself in my cloak,
contented with *he raw air and threatening sky, since the
dry acequias would now flow with new streams, and the
empty tanks of the farmers be filled.
It was like a rainy day in the tropics. There was a gray
veil all over the sky, deepening into blackness where the
mountains drew down the showers. The soil, yesterday
as dry as a cinder, already looked soggy and drenched,
and in place of white, impalpable dust, puddles of water
covered the road. For the first two leagues we drove
over a dead level, seeing nothing but fig, olive, and almond
trees, with an occasional palm or cactus, fading out of sight
in the rain. Majorca is in reality the orchard of the Med-
iteranean. All its accessible surface is not only covered
with fruit-trees, but the fruit is of the most exquisite qual-
ity. The apricots are not dry and insipid, but full of
juice, and with a flavor as perfect as that of a peach. The
oranges and figs seemed to me the finest I had ever tasted ;
O O
even the date-palm matures its fruit, and the banana grows
200 BY-WAYS Or n EUROPE.
iu the same garden with the cherry and apple. The vallej
of Soller, the only port on the western side of the moun-
tains, was described to me as one unbroken orchard of
superb orange-trees, a league or two in length. The diffi-
culty of transportation has hitherto robbed the people of
the profits of their production, and a new prosperity has
come with the recent improvement of their roads. Within
a league of Palma an entire village has been built within
the last five years ; and most of the older towns are in
rapid process of enlargement.
After the second league, the country became undulating,
the trees were loftier and more luxuriant, and woods of
picturesque Italian pine covered the rocky crests of the
hills. The mountains on the left assumed very bold and
violent forms, rising through the dim atmosphere like so
many detached towers and fortresses. There were two
dominant peaks, which in the sheer escarpment of their
summits resembled the crags of Konigstein and Lilienstein
in Saxony. They were the Torrella and the Puig (Peak)
Major grand, naked, almost inaccessible mountains,
which shed the rain like a roof. The water-courses which
came down from them were no longer dry hollows, but
filled to the brim with swift, roaring, turbid floods. These
peaks appeared to be' detached nearly to the base, and
between their steep abutments the mouths of dim, folding
gorges gave promise of rare and original scenery within
their recesses.
We passed Santa Maria, a beautiful little village of two
streets, at the intersection of which rises a fine square
belfry, connected with the buildings of a defunct monas-
tery. The picture was so pleasant that I brought its out-
lines away with me. In spite of the rain, the people were
at work in the fields, turning the red soil about the roots
of the olive-trees. The flowing trousers were no longer to
be seen ; even the old men here wore the gigot. Others,
with the words Peon caminero on their caps, were breaking
BALEARIC DAYS. 201
stones by the roadside. I received a friendlj Bon df '
from each and all. Both robbery and beggary are un-
known in Majorca ; they have no place in a iand of so
much material order and cheerful industry.
Beyond Santa Maria the road again became quite level,
and the courses of the streams pointed to the northern
shore. The fruit-trees temporarily gave place to vineyards
so luxuriant that the shoots, unsupported by stake or trel -
lis, threw their tendrils around each other, and hid the soil
under a deluge of green. The wine of Benisalem (Arabic
beni-salaam, " the children of peace ") is considered the
best on the island. It is a fiery, golden-brown vintage,
resembling ripe old Malaga in flavor.
We were within a league of Inca, my destination,
when the rain, which had already blotted out the moun-
tains, began to drive over the plain. A fine spray beat
through the canvas cover of the omnibus, condemning me
to a blind, silent, and cheerless half-hour of travel. Then,
between garden-walls, over which the lemon-trees hung
great boughs breaking with fruit, and under clumps of
rustling and dripping palms. I entered Inca. My equipage
Jrew up before the door of a new fonda in a narrow old
street. There were billiards and coffee on the ground-
floor ; over them a long hall, out of which all the doors and
staircases issued, served as a dining-room. The floors were
tiled, the walls white-washed and decorated with the litho-
graphed histories of Mazeppa and Hernan Cortez. and the
heavy pine joists of the ceiling were fresh and unpainted.
There was an inconsiderate waste of space in the disposi-
tion of the rooms and passages which was pleasant to be-
hold. Contrary to the usual habit of travellers, I ventured
into (he kitchen, and found it as it ought to be the
most cheerful and attractive part of the house. The land-
lord brought a glass of the wine of Benisalem to stay my
hunger ; but I was not obliged to wait overlong for the
excellent meal of eggs, kid with pepper-sauce, and an ex-
202 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
quisite dish of lobster stewed with leeks and tomatoes,
which I tasted for the first time.
Towards evening the rain subsided, and I went forth
to view the place, finding a picture at every turn. First,
a group of boys burning shavings before a church-door ;
then a gable embowered with one enormous grape-vine,
and touched with sunshine, while beneath, in the gloom of
a large arch, the family ate their supper ; then a guitar-
player in the door of a barber's shop, with a group around
him, or a company of women, filling their jars at a foun-
tain. The town is built upon an irregular hill, overlooking
the finest orchards of Majorca. The clusters of palm-
trees which spring from its topmost gardens are far more
beautiful than its church-towers. Nothing can be more
picturesque than the narrow valleys on either side, which
slope sufficiently to bring out in sumptuous contrast the
foliage of the terraced gardens. The people looked at me
curiously, but with no unfriendly air, as I followed the
winding streets into the country, or loitered through some
country lane back into the town. Only two persons spoke
to me the letter-carrier, and a boy who was trying to
knock down swallows with a long pole. The latter made
a remark which I did not understand, but it was evidently
witty, for we both laughed. The workmen at their avoca-
tions sang with all their force, and very dismally. It was
difficult to say which were the more insignificant the
melodies or the words of their songs. One specimen of
the latter will suffice to give an idea of both :
" On Sundays the young girls you may view,
(Since they nothing better have then to do),
Watering their pots of carnations sweet:
Saying, Drink, my dears, for you cannot eat! "
When I returned to the fonda, the landlord took me into
ft part of his house which was built like a tower above the
level of the city roofs. A thunderous mass of clouds still
hung over the Puig Major, but between its rifts the low
BALEARIC DATS. 208
un cast long lines of brassy radiance over the wide land-
scape. Westward rose the torn and shattered mountains ;
eastward the great orchard-plain stretched away into pur-
ple dimness, only broken by the chapel-crowned peak of
Santa Maddalena, near at hand, and the signal mountain
of Felaniche in the distance. Inca, under my feet, re-
sounded with wailing noises, which, nevertheless, expressed
the cheerfulness and content of the inhabitants. Through
the lanes dividing the rich vegetation, the laborers were
flocking homeward from their fields ; rude tartanas rat-
tled along the broad white highway ; and the chimes of
vesper presently floated over the scene in slow, soothing
vibrations. " You see how beautiful the country is ! " said
the landlord ; " I suppose there is nothing finer in the
world. You will think so too, when you have been to the
cemetery, and have seen the new monument. It is won-
derful ! A basket full of flowers, and if they were not all
white, you would take them to be real. They say it cost
an immense amount of money."
When I asked forjuevos (eggs) for my suppe~ *he land-
lady shook her head, until somebody suggested jodos ! with
a sound like the whistling of wind through a keyhole.
They were then speedily forthcoming, with another dish of
the lobster and leeks, and a bottle of excellent wine. I
was kept awake for a long time, that night, by the thrum-
ming of guitars and the click of billiard balls in the cafe
below ; and when sleep finally came, it was suddenly broken
by the bursting open of the doors and windows of my room.
The house seemed to rock under the stress of the hurri-
cane ; the lightning played through the torrents of rain in
rapid flashes of transparent silver, accompanied with peals
like the crashing down of all the Puigs in the mountain-
chain. But at sunrise, when I went upon the roof, I found
the island sparkling under the purest of morning skies,
every leaf washed, every outline of the landscape recut
and all its colors bright as if newly dyed. A bracing
204 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
north wind blew over the fields, and there was an exprefr
sion of joy in the very dance of the boughs and the waving
of the vines.
When we set out for Alcudia, the coachman first drove
to a fountain at the foot of the hill, and watered his horses.
There was a throng about the place, old women with
huge earthen amphorae, young girls with jars which they
carried on the hip, donkeys laden with casks, and children
carrying all sorts of smaller vessels. The water is brought
from the mountains to this fountain, which never fails in
its supply. It is shaded by grand old plane and carob
trees, which throw a network of light and gloom over the
great stone tanks and the picturesque moving crowds.
Rising out of the glen where it stands, I saw the mountains
bare in the morning sun, every crevice and jag of their
rocky fronts painted with a pre-Raphaelite pencil. Past
flie foot of the solitary mountain of Santa Maddalena ran
our road, and then northward over a second plain, even
richer than that of Palma.
The olive and almond trees by the roadside had been
washed clean of dust, but they hissed in the breeze as dryly
as if they had never known rain. The very colors of the
olive, ilex, and myrtle express aridity. Their dry leaves
seem to repel moisture, even as the mellow, sappy green of
the North seems to attract it. But their soft grays relieve
the keen, strong tints of soil, sea, and sky, and we could ill
spare them from these landcapes. As accessories to sun-
browned houses, or masses of ruined architecture, they are
invaluable. They belong naturally to an atmosphere of age
and repose, while fresh turf and deciduous trees perpetually
reproduce the youth of Nature. Something of Attica al-
ways conies to me with the olive, something of Tusculum
and the Sabine Farm with the ilex. The box, I know not
why, suggests the Euphrates ; and the myrtle in bloom, the
Garden of Eden.
While these thoughts were passing through my mind,
BALEARIC DAYS. 205
the road slowly feL to the northward ; and I beheld in the
distance fields of a green so dazzling that the hackneyed
term " emerald " seems much too dull to express it. It
positively burned in the sun, drawing into itself the lustre
of the sky, the distant sea. and the leagues of glittering
foliage. Over it rose, as a completer foil, the gray moun-
tains of the peninsula dividing the bays of Pollenza and
Alcudia. I was at a loss to guess what plant could give
such an indescribable color ; and not until we were within
a stone's throw did I recognize the leaves of hemp. An
open, marshy plain, entirely bare of trees, bordered the bay
at this point. The splendid orchards ceased ; the road
crossed some low hills overgrown with ilex and pine, a
turbid, roaring stream, with poplars on its banks ; and then
a glimmer of the sea on either hand showed that we had
reached the peninsula. There were Moorish atalayas, 01
watch-towers, on the summits nearest the sea, and a large
ruined fortress of the Middle Ages on a hill inland.
Alcudia, with its yellow walls, its cypress and palm trees,
now appeared at the foot of the barren heights, oriental in
every feature. It was a picture from the Syrian coast,
needing only the old Majorcun costume for the laborers in
the fields to be perfect.
Contrasted with those parts of the island which I had
seen, the country appeared singularly lonely and deserted.
Few persons met us on the road, and we passed none on
their way to the town. Grass grew on the huge walls of
defense, the stones were slipping from the arch of the gate-
way, and we passed into a silent street without seeing a liv-
ing thing. My coachman stopped before a mean-looking
house, with no sign or other indication of its character, and
informed me that it was the only fonda in the place. A
woman who came to the door confirmed this statement,
modestly adding. u We are not very fine, but we will give
you what we have." A narrow room on the ground-floor
was at once entrance-hall, dining-room, and kitchen ; it
206 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
contained one table, three chairs, much dirt, and very nim-
ble inserts. The inmates were two women, and a small
dog with a bell on his neck, which, whenever he scratched
his head with his hind foot, rang a peal of alarm through
the house. Feeling the need of consolation, I summoned
a boy from the street, and gave him some money to bring
me cigars from the estanco ; but the hostess, taking the
coin, cried out in great excitement : " Don't send that !
Holy Mother, don't send that ! You'll lose a 'chavo on
it ! " The coachman burst into a laugh, repeating, " Lose
a 'chavo ! " which is about the eighth part of a cent ; but
the woman was so horrified at the idea that I gave the boy
another coin.
While the eggs and tough scraps of beef destined for
my meal were simmering in pans of strong oil, the hostess
conducted me into a room above, which contained a large
and very ancient bed, five blue chests, and twenty-three
pictures of saints. " There ! " she exclaimed, with a wave
of the arm and a look of triumph, " my own room, but you
shall have it ! We may not be very fine, but we give what
we have." Whatever my thoughts may have been, it was
quite impossible to avoid expressing my entire satisfaction.
I took my books, went outside the walls to a tower which
I had noticed on the ridge, and there found the very view
of the town, the mountains, and the bay, which a stranger
would desire to take home with him. In the full noonday
sunshine, there was scarcely shadow enough to relieve the
clear golden tints of the landscape ; but the place was en-
tirely deserted, which was a better fortune than I enjoyed
at Valldemosa. Three peasants were reaping wheat in a
little field behind the tower ; now and then a donkey and
rider jogged slowly along the distant highway ; but no one
seemed to notice the mysterious stranger. I had an undis-
turbed dream of two hours, for the forms before rne, half
borrowed from my memories of Oriental life, half drawn
from those landscapes which rise in our minds as we read
BALEARIC DAYS. 207
the stories of the Middle Ages, satisfied both the eye and
the fancy. Some scenes suggest the sound of a flute and
Theocritan idyls ; others, horns and trumpets, and frag
ments of epic poetry ; but here the only accompaniment
was cymbals, the only poems suggested were " Fatima
and " Rudel to the Lady of Tripoli."
In the afternoon I walked around the city walls, climbed
upon them, visited the deserted monastery of San Diego,
and wandered at will through its picturesque ruins. The
place is surrounded by double walls of great strength,
divided by a moat cut out of the solid rock. The caper-
plant, the ivy, and the wild fig-tree have taken possession
of the parapet and the rifts between the stones, goats
browse in the bottom of the moat, and children's faces
peep forth from the watch-towers on the ramparts. Out-
side the principal gate, I came upon a Gothic cross, rest-
ing on an octagonal base, so very old and weather-beaten
that it must certainly have been erected during the first
years of the conquest. The walls of the city are said to be
Saracenic ; but the people are poor authority on this or
any other historical point. It is certain, at least, that
Alcudia was formerly much more important than now. Its
bay was a naval station, whence expeditions were sent out
to Africa or the Levant ; and there were times when the
kings of Spain built whole fleets from the forests of the
island.
Of late, a little fresh life has begun to flow into the silent
old town. On the shore of the bay, a few miles off, an
English company has undertaken agricultural operations
on a grand scale. Many square leagues of the former use-
less, pestiferous marshes have been drained, steam-engines
erected to supply water for irrigation, and an attempt made
to cultivate cotton. Concerning the success of the under-
taking, I heard the most contradictory accounts. The
people could only tell me of the immense sums expended,
sums which appeared almost fabulous to them. The
208 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE.
agents, of course, claimed to be entirely successful, not
withstanding the cotton-plants, this year, will scarcely pro-
duce enough to pay for the seed. Last year (1866), I wig
informed, the yield was very fine : the staple being equal le
that of our Sea-island cotton. The intention of the Eng
lish capitalists was probably to produce a similar article,
and it cannot be denied that they have shrewdly chosen
the spot for the experiment.
When the afternoon shadow filled the street, I seated
myself at the door of the fonda, and amused myself with
the movements of some carpenters in an opposite shop.
Two lusty apprentices were engaged in the slow labor of
sawing beams into boards, while the master fitted together
the parts of a door. The former used an upright saw, one
standing on a frame overhead, and the other on the floor
o
below ; they were just an hour and a half in sawing five
boards from a beam a foot wide and sixteen feet long.
Whenever a neighbor dropped in to gossip with the master,
the saw stopped, and the apprentices took an active part
in the conversation. There was also a boy of twelve years
old, who did no work except in the way of singing. With
his head thrown back, and his mouth open to its fullest ex-
tent, he poured forth an endless succession of piercing cries,
recommencing, at the end of each lamentable close of the
measure, with a fury and frenzy which nearly drove me
wild. The little dog in the fonda, from time to time, rang
a suggestive peal upon his bell, and echoes from other
streets, and distant bells from other tormented dogs, filled
up the pauses of the performance.
At sunset the other inmates of the fonda began to collect.
First, there arrived two French workmen, of mean aspect ;
then a Spanish cavalier, who was evidently a person of some
importance, for he invited nobody to partake of his supper.
He was a large, olive-colored man, with a loud voice and
opaque gray eyes, in which, as he fixed them upon my face,
I read the question, " Are you not going to salute me ? " I
BALEABIC DAYS. 205
returned the look, and my eyes answered, " Who art thou,
that I should salute thee ? " After these remarks, tfhicb
both understood, we spoke no more. Several natives came,
during the evening, to be paid for some service ; but they
received no money. The two Frenchmen supped with the
hostess and her family, but the important Spaniard and
myself had our meals apart. Finally the comedy became
tiresome, and I went to bed.
Not to sleep, alas ! The little dog's bell was silent
through the night, but had there been one around my neck
it would have chimed the quarter-hours without a single
failure. The steamer for Minorca was expected in the bay
at sunrise ; so T arose with the first stir in the house, and
found two gentlemen who had come from Palma during the
night, and three man-of-war's men, waiting in the street for
an omnibus which was to carry us to the mole. We all
waited together an hour, took chocolate, and then, after an-
other half-hour, were requested to climb into a two-wheeled
cart, drawn by a single horse. The hostess said to me, ' We
are not very fine, and I don't know how much you ought
to pay, but I will take what you think right," which she
did, with honest thanks, and then we clattered out of the gate.
A descent of two miles between fields of wheat and olives
brought us to the mole, where we found only a few lazy
boatmen lying upon heaps of iron castings, which were
waiting, apparently, for the English engineers. Shoals of
young sardines sprinkled the clear green deeps of the sea
with a million points of light, and some dead flounders lay
like lozenges of silver among the dark weeds of the bottom.
A. new fish-crate, floating beside the pier, was a mild evi-
dence of enterprise. The passengers sat in the sun until
it became too powerful, then in the shade, and so another
hour and a half rolled away. With the first appearance of
the steamer, we got into a boat, and slowly floated out be-
tween two crystal atmospheres (so transparent is the sea*
into the roadstead.
14
210 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
The extent of the Bay of Alcudia cannot be less thau
fifteen miles, for our deliberate steamer was nearly two
hours in getting its southern headland abeam. Once out-
side, the eastern coast of Majorca opened finely with a long,
diminishing group of mountains, and the dim, nearly level
outline of Minorca appeared in front. The sea was like a
mirror, broken only at times by a floating turtle or the leap
of a dolphin. I found the Mahonese on board to be a very
different class of persons from the Majorcans in whose com.
pany I had left Barcelona. Port Mahon was for twenty
years our Mediterranean naval station ; and although for
twenty years it has ceased to be so, there are still traces of
intelligence, of sympathy, of language, and of blood, which
our quasi-occupation has left behind. Two of the passen-
gers had visited America, one had an American wife in
Minorca, and all became friendly and communicative when
my nationality was announced. They had faithfully fol-
lowed the history of our navy through the war, and took
especial pains to claim Admiral Farragut as a countryman.
His father, they said, was a Minorcan, and the farm in the
interior of the island upon which he once lived still bears
the family name. I was brought back suddenly from the
times of Tancred (which had faded out of sight with the
walls of Alcudia) to our stormy politics and the new names
they have given to history.
All the afternoon we skirted the southern coast of Mi-
norca. The town of Ciudadela, at its western extremity)
showed like a faint white mark in the distance ; then some
groups of hills interrupted the level table of the island, and,
farther eastward, the solitary mountains of El Toro. The
two gentlemen of Pal ma, neither of whom had ever before
made a journey, went below and slept the sleep of indiffer-
ence. Many of the Mahonese followed their example ; and,
the quarter-deck being left clear. I stretched myself out over
the cabin skylight, and quietly watched the moving shore, as
if it were some immense diorama unrolled for my eyes only
BALEARIC DAYS. 211
The white cliffs along the sea, the tawny harvest- fields, the
gray olives embosoming villages and country-houses, and the
occasional shafts of cypress or palm, slowly photographed
themselves upon my consciousness, and became enduring
pictures. Had I climbed and hammered the cliffs as a
geologist, scoured the fields as a botanist, analyzed the soil,
or even measured its undulations, I could not have obtained
a completer impression of Minorca.
El Toro was drifting astern, and the island of Ayre
showed its light-house in front, when the sound of a guitar
disturbed my^omfortable process of absorption, and brought
the sleepy passengers upon deck. The performer was a
blind Spaniard, a coarse-featured, clumsy man, whose life
and soul had gone into his instrument, separating light,
beauty, and refinement from earthy darkness. When he
played, the guitar really seemed to be the man, and his
body a mere holder, or music-stand. The Mahonese, I was
glad to see, not only appreciated the performance, but were
very liberal in their contributions.
The island of Ayre lies off the southeastern extremity of
Minorca. In the intervening strait, the sea was so wonder-
fully transparent that the alternations of bare limestone floor
and fields of sea-weed far below our keel, changed the color
of the water from a turquoise so dazzling that I can only
call it blue fire to an emerald gloom pierced with golden
lightning^. Even that southern temperament which cares
so little for Nature, was aroused by the sight of these splen-
dors. The passengers hung over the railing with cries of
admiration, and the blind minstrel was left to soliloquize on
his guitar. Against a headland in front, the smooth sea
suddenly rose in a crest of foam, behind which a gleam of
darker sapphire denoted the mouth of a harbor. In a few
minutes more we were abreast of the entrance to Port Ma-
hon, with a great ascending slope of new fortifications on the
north. Hundreds of men are now employed on defenses
which the new developments in na^ al warfare have rendered
212 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
useless ; and the officials conceal, with the most jealous few
the plan of a system of forts and batteries which no othef
nation need care to know.
The lower ground, on the southern side of the entrance
to the inner harbor, is entirely covered with the ruins of the
immense fortress of San Felipe, built by the English during
their occupation of Minorca from 1708 to 1802. The fate
of Admiral Byng, executed for a naval victory over the
French, gives a tragic interest to these ruins, which, in
their extent, resemble those of a city. All governments
(our own included) know how to make their individual ser-
vants the scapegoats for their blunders or their incapacity;
but I know not, in all history, of a case so flagrant as that
of Byng. The destruction of Fort San Felipe cost nearly
half a million of dollars, and yet it appears to be only partial.
On passing the channel between the fort and Cape Mola,
we found ourselves in the port, but only at its entrance ; the
city was not yet visible. A bright white town crowned the
low cliffs of the southern shore the former Georgetown
of the English, the present Villa Carlos of the Spaniards.
Opposite to it, the long quarantine island divided the in-
tensely blue water ; and my fellow-passengers claimed with
pride that it was capable ^of accommodating a whole fleet.
Beyond this island the harbor bends southward, shutting out
of sight the sea entrance ; it becomes a still lake, inclosed
by bare, bright hills. The Isle of the King, with a splendid
military hospital ; the ship-yard, with a vessel of a thousand
tons on the stocks, and various other public constructions,
appeared successively on our right. The nearer southern
shore, a wall of dark gray rock, broken by deep gashes in
which houses were hidden and steep roads climbed to the
summit, increased in height : as we approached the end of
the harbor, quays along the water, and a fresh, many-colored,
glittering town on the rocks, showed that we had reached
Port Malion. Nature has made this basin as picturesque
as it is secure. The wild cliffs of the coast here pierc*
BALEABIC DAYS. 218
inland, but they are draped with splendid gardens ; fields
of wheat climb the hills, and orchards of olive clothe their
feet ; over the table-land of the island rises in the distance
the purple peak of El Toro ; and the city before you, raised
on a pedestal a hundred feet in height, seems to be one of
the most beautiful of the Mediterranean. " Did you ever
see a place like that ? " asked a Mahonese at my elbow.
" Captain , of your navy, used to say that there were
only three good harbors in the Mediterranean, the
months of July and August, and Port Mahon ! " Captain
, however, as my friend perhaps did not know, bor-
rowed the remark from Admiral Andrea Doria, who made
it centuries ago.
The " Fonda del Oriente " looked down upon me invit-
ingly from the top of the rock, which was made accessible
by a road carried up in steep, zigzag ramps. At the door
of the hotel I was received by a stout old man with a cos-
mopolitan face, who, throwing his head on one shoulder,
inspected me for a few moments with a remarkably know-
ing air. Then, with a nod of satisfaction at his own acute-
ness, he said, "Walk in, sir; how do you find yourself?"
Ushering me into a chamber furnished with an old mahog-
any secretary, heavy arm-chairs, and antiquated prints,
the atmosphere of Portsmouth or Gravesend hanging over
everything, he continued, after another critical survey,
" Mr. Alexander, I believe ? "
' ; That is not my name," I said.
" Not Alexander ! Then it must be Sykes ; they are
brothers-in-law, you know," persisted the stout old man.
I answered him with a scrutinizing stare, and the words,
" Your name is Bunsby, I think ? "
' v no ! " he exclaimed ; " I am Antonio. You can't be
Mr. Sykes, either, or you'd know me."
" You are talking of Englishmen ; I am not English."
" Not English ? " he cried. " H'm, well, that's queer j
but, to be sure, you must be American. I know all the
BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE.
American officers that ever were here, and they know me.
Ask Commodore and if they don't know An-
tonio ! The greatest mistake I ever made was that I didn't
move to Spezia with the squadron."
" Can you give me dinner ? " I asked, cutting off the
coming yarn.
" Stop ! " he said ; " don't tell me ; I can guess what you
want. A beefsteak rare, hey ? and mixed pickles, hey ? and
potatoes with their jackets on, hey ? But it's too late to
make a pudding, and there's no Stilton cheese ! Never
mind! let me alone; nobody in Port Mahon can come
nearer the real thing than I can."
In vain I declared my willingness to take the Minorcan
dishes. Such a taste had probably never before been ex-
pressed in all Antonio's experience of English and Ameri-
cans ; and my meals then and thenceforth were a series of
struggles to reproduce Portsmouth or Gravesend. But the
hotel was large, airy, and perfectly clean ; Antonio honestly
endeavored to make me comfortable ; he knew a great many
of my naval friends, and I had no complaint to make with
his reckoning at the close of my stay. He was, moreover,
a man of progress ; he corned beef, and cured hams, and
introduced the making of butter (not very successfully),
and taught the people how to cook potatoes. He even
dispatched a cheese, as a present, to Marshal Serrano,
before I left Port Mahon.
Refreshed by a long sleep, which was not disturbed by
any little dog with a bell on his neck, or that which the
sound of the latter suggested, I sallied forth in the morning
without any objective point. The city must first be seen,
because it lay between me and the country. I was delighted
to find wide, well-paved streets as compared with those of
Palma, clean, cheerful houses, and an irregularity sufficient
for picturesque effect, without being bewildering to a stran-
ger. Very few of the buildings appeared to be older than
the last century ; there was nothing characteristic in theif
ALEABIC DATS. 215
architecture ; but tl:e city, from end to end, was gay, sunny,
full of color, riante, and without a trace of the usual Spanish
indolence and uncleanliness. It has somewhat fallen from
its former estate. Grass grows in many of the streets, and
there is less noise and movement than one would look for
with the actual population some fifteen thousand. Three
or four small craft in the harbor did not indicate an active
commerce, and I presume the place is kept alive mainly
by the visits of foreign men-of-war. A great many of the
common people speak a few words of English, and you
may even read " Adams, Sastre," over the door of a native
tailor !
The climate, although considered harsh by the Spaniards,
seemed to me perfect. The sun of June shone in a cloud-
less sky, flooding the sharp, clear colors of the town with a
deluge of light ; yet a bracing wind blew from the north,
and the people in the fields and gardens worked as steadily
as Connecticut farmers. I saw no loafers upon the island ;
and I doubt whether there are enough of them to form a
class among the native population. While there was evi-
dently a great deal of poverty, I encountered no beggars.
I felt, as in Majorca, that I was among a simple-minded,
ignorant but thoroughly honest and industrious people.
The street I had chosen gradually rose as I proceeded
inland ; walled gardens succeeded to the houses, and then
fields of wheat or vines, separated by huge agglomerations
of stones. I looked over an undulating table-land, cov-
ered with such lines and mounds of rocky debris, that they
seemed to be the ruins of a city. Every patch of grain or
fruit was inclosed by a cannon-proof fortification, and the
higher ridges terminated in bald parapets, whereon the
dark mounds of box and ilex held fast and flourished with-
out any appearance of soil. At the foot of these wild
growths the fig-tree grew with wonderful luxuriance, and
very often the foliage of the untamable rock was mingled
with that of the gardens Here every foot of ground had
216 BY-WAYS OF EUBOPE.
been won by the rudest, the most patient toil. Even tht
fields conquered centuries ago are not yet completely man-
ageable ; hundreds of stony fangs still protrude from the
surface, and the laborer is obliged to follow the plough
with hoe and spade. Thus, in spite of the almost incred-
ible triumphs of agriculture with which the island is covered,
its general aspect is that of a barren, torn, hopeless wilder-
ness. Without broad or grand features of landscape, it is
crowded with startling contrasts and picturesque details.
I wandered southward between the high, loose walls,
towards a mound which promised me a wider inland view ;
but on approaching it, the road entered an impenetrable
shade, and passed beyond. There was no gate or entrance
of any kind into the fields, so I took advantage of a jagged
corner of the wall, and climbed to the top. On the other
side there was a wheat-field, in which three men were reap-
ing. I now saw that what I had taken for a mound was a
circular tower, the top of which had been torn down, form-
ing a slope around its base, which was covered with rank
thickets of mastic and myrtle. I asked the men, who had
stopped work, and were curiously regarding me, whether I
might cross their field and visit the ruin. " Certainly,
Senor," said the master ; " come down and walk about
where you please." He then called, in a loud voice,
" Miguel ! " and presently a small boy came to light from
behind a pile of rocks. " Miguel," said he, " go with the
Senor to the atalaya, and show him the steps."
I clambered down into the little field, which, sunken
between enormous walls of stone, somewhat resembled a
volcanic crater. Miguel piloted me silently across the
stubble, between solid mounds of ilex, which seemed no
less ancient and indestructible than the rocks upon which
they grew, and by a gap in an outer wall into the bed of a
dry moat around the tower. The latter, though only ten
feet wide, stood thick with ripe wheat ; but it was bridged
in one place by a line of stones, and we thus crossed with-
BALEARIC DAYS. 217
out trampling down the precious stalks. There were no
steps to the tower, but a zigzag path had been trampled
among the ruins, at the foot of which I dismissed Miguel,
and then mounted to the summit. I first looked abroad
upon the bright, busy, wild, savage, wonderfully cultivated
fields and gardens, the white towers and tiled roofs of the
city behind me, and a single blue fragment of the sea (like
a piece chipped out of the edge of a bowl) in the east. The
characteristics of Minorcan scenery, which I have" already
described, gave the view a character so novel and so re
markable, that I studied them for a long time before ex
amining more closely the ruin upon which I stood.
The farmer had called it an atalaya, and the tower was
clearly of Moorish construction. Its height must have
been originally much greater, or it could not have answered
its purpose of watching the sea. The hollow interior is en-
tirely filled with the fragments, so that nothing of the struc-
ture remains except its circular form. Outside of the dry
moat there is a massive pentangular wall, with a lozenge-
shaped pile of solid masonry at each corner ; the whole
evidently designed for defense, and of later date than the
tower itself. Such quantities of stones had been heaped
upon the old foundations by the farmers, in clearing spaces
for their crops, that very little of the masonry was to be
seen. To be of service, however, the walls must have been
at least twenty feet higher than at present. Many of the
stones have no doubt been carried away for buildings, and
there are still huge piles of them in the adjacent fields.
Towering out of one of these piles I caught a glimpse of
another relic of a still remoter past an object so unex-
pected that I at first took it for an accidental disposition
of the stoiies. I descended to the moat, clambered over
the outer wall, and made my way to the spot.
It was a Celtic tor, or altar a large upright block of
gray limestone, supporting a horizontal block about ten
feet in length. The pillar was so buried in fragments
218 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
which had been piled about it, that I could not ascertain
its height ; but the character of the monument was too dis-
tinctly marked to admit of a question. After returning to
Port Mahon, I found that its existence was well known.
In fact, the first question asked me was, " Have you seen
the Pho3nician altar?" When and by whom these re-
markable monuments which are found in all the Medi-
terranean islands between Greece and Gibraltar were
erected,' is a point which I will leave antiquarians to dis-
cuss. It pleased me, as I sat under a fig-tree which shot
up through the stones, to fancy that the remains of three
memorable phases in the history of man were before me,
of the Druids in the crumbling altar, of the Saracens in
the watch-tower, and of the house of Aragon or Castile in
the fortress enclosing it.
According to Strabo, the Balearic Islands were colonized
by the Rhodians ; but Strabo probably knew less about the
matter than any respectable antiquarian of our own day.
The people of Minorca firmly believe that Magon, the
brother of Hannibal, founded Port Mahon, and they attrib-
ute the Drtiidic stones and the Cyclopean constructions
(which are here found side by side) to the Phrenicians.
The English occupation, which left at least a good map be-
hind it, led to no historic investigations ; and I cannot learn
that any detailed account of the antiquities of the island
has ever been published. Those remains which we call
Druidic are very numerous ; some of the upright monoliths
are more' than twenty feet in height, supporting horizontal
stones of nearly equal dimensions. Nothing but the lack
of archaeological knowledge prevented me from making a
journey through the interior for the purpose of examining
the other monuments.
I made use of my brief visit, however, to test the truth of
another story, which is among the permanent traditions of
the American navy. Every one has read the account of a
captain's son leaping from the main-truck of a frigate ; and
BALEARIC DAYS. 21S
in the days when Morris was popular, his verses co/nmen-
cing
" Old Ironsides at anchor lay
In the harbor of Mahon,"
went the rounds of all the country newspapers. There
was a melodramatic air about the incident which made me
suspicious. I suppose the lines recalled themselves to my
mind from the fact that Port Mahon is nowhere else noted
in song. The Consul, who kindly seconded my curiosity
in a matter of so little importance, went to an old
Mahonese, who has had the greatest experience of our ves-
sels and officers, and questioned him, taking care not to
suggest the story in advance. But the old man instantly
said : " O yes ! I remember all about it. Fifty years ago,
or more, when the Constitution frigate was here, a boy
climbed to the very top of the mainmast, and was obliged to
jump into the harbor, as there was no other way of getting
down. Not many persons saw the act, but it was much
talked about, and nobody doubted that the boy had done
it" Whether the captain forced his son to take the ter-
rible leap by threatening to shoot him with a rifle, the old
man could not tell.
The next morning the Consul accompanied me on an-
other excursion into the country. We passed through the
town, and descended to an alameda which skirts the har-
bor to its western end, where the highway to Ciudadela
strikes off towards the centre of the island. The harbor
once penetjjated a mile deeper into the country than at
present, so the people say ; but it must have been a shal-
low, marshy basin, as the hills around could not possibly
spare enough soil to fill up and make fruitful the valley
which one now enters after leaving the harbor-wall. This
valley is the largest tract of unbroken garden land which
I saw in Minorca. Its productiveness is apparently un-
limited. Maize, cabbages, sweet potatoes, hemp, vines,
vegetables of all kinds, covered the surface ; date-palms
220 BY-WAVS OF EUROPE.
and orange-trees, so overwhelmed with fruit that scarcelj
a green leaf showed through the dazzling gold, turned it
into a garden of the tropics ; while precipitous walls ol
limestone, resting on rough natural vaults and arches, shut
out the rocky upper plateau from view. The h borers were
planting new crops in the place of the old ; so valuable is
this rich basin that no part of its surface is allowed to lie
fallow for a day.
On the left, the inclosing walls were broken by the
mouth of a glen, the sides of which regular terraces of
rock, resting on arched foundations seemed at first sight
to be the work of art. Here, in the shade of a group of
poplars and sycamores, stood the chapel of San Juan,
white, cool, and solitary. A fountain, issuing from the base
of the rocks near it, formed a little pool in which some
women were washing clothes. The picture was Oriental
in every feature, so much so that I was surprised not to
hear " Saba' el-kheyr ! " when the women said to us, " Bon
di' tenga ! "
Entering the glen behind the chapel, a few paces
brought us into a different world. Except upon some
painfully constructed shelf of soil, built up or rescued in
some way from the rocks, there was no cultivation. Our
path was a natural pavement, torn by the occasional rains ;
bare cliffs of gray limestone, vaulted at the base, overhung
us on either side, and the mounds of box on the summit
sparkled against the sky. Every feature of the scenery
bore the marks of convulsion. Enormous blocks had been
hurled from above ; the walls were split with deep, irregu-
lar crevices ; and even the stubborn evergreen growths
took fantastic shapes of horns, fluttering wings, tufts of
hair, or torn garments. Now and then a dry-leaved ilex
rustled and rattled in the breeze ; and the glen, notwith-
standing it brimmed over with intensest sunshine, would
have seemed very drear and desolate but for the incessant
songs of the nightingales. While I crept under a rock to
BALEARIC DAYS. 221
sketch a singularly picturesque combination of those crag-
forms, every one of which was a study, the joyous
birds made the place ring with their paeans. The day-
song of the nightingale is as cheerful as that of the lark ;
its passion and sorrow is kept for the night.
If I had been an artist, I should have spent a fortnight
in the glen of San Juan ; but as it was, having only an-
other day in Minorca, I could not linger there beyond an
hour. At the point where I sat it divides into two
branches, which gradually rise, as they wind, to the level
of the table-land ; and the great stone-heaps commence
immediately behind the topmost fringe of box. The
island, in fact, is a single rock, upon the level portions of
which a little soil has lodged. Wherever one may travel
in the interior, it presents the same appearance. The dis-
tance from Port Mahon to the old town of Ciirdadela, at
the western extremity of Minorca, is about twenty-five
miles ; and the Consul informed me that I should find
the same landscapes all the way. There is nothing re-
markable in Ciudaclela except a cathedral of the thirteenth
century, and some Saracenic walls. On the way are the
three other principal towns of the island Alayor, Mer-
cadal, and Ferrerias, all of which are rudely built, and
have an equal air of poverty. It was for a moment a ques-
tion with me whether I should employ my little remaining
time in a rapid journey to Ciudadela and back, or in stroll-
ing leisurely through the country around Port Mahon, and
setting down my observations as typical of all Minorca.
The reports of the Consul justified me in adopting the lat-
ter and easier course.
In the afternoon we walked to the village of San Luis,
about four miles distant, and recently made accessible by
a superb highway. The great drought which has prevailed
in all the Balearic Islands during the past two years has
seriously injured the crops, and there is much suffering in
Minorca, which is so much less favored by nature than its
222 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
larger sister island. I heard of families of five persona
living for months on less than twenty-five cents a day.
Agriculture is profitable in good seasons, on account of the
excellent quality of the wheat, oil, and oranges ; but the
deposit of soil, as I have already explained, is very shallow,
there is no sheltering range of mountains as in Majorca,
no supply of water for irrigation, and the average produc-
tion is therefore much less certain. The price of land is
nigh, for the reason that the proprietors are satisfied if it
yields them annually two per cent, of its value. Shoe-
making is one of the principal branches of industry in
Port Mahon ; but of late the foreign market has been dis-
turbed, and the profits are so slight whether through
slow and imperfect labor or the sharpness of contractors I
did not ascertain that any check in the trade brings im-
mediate suffering. The people, nevertheless, are very
patient ; they invariably prefer work to mendicancy, and
are cheerful and contented so long as they succeed in
clothing and feeding themselves.
The Minorcans seemed to me even more independent
and original in character than the Majorcans. There is
still less of the Spaniard, but also less of the Moor, about
them. I should guess their blood to be mostly Vandal,
but I stand ready to be corrected by any ethnologist who
knows better. They have a rugged, sturdy air, little grace
and elegance, either of body or of manner, and a simpli-
city which does not exclude shrewdness or cunning. It is
considered almost an insult if the stranger speaks of them
as Spaniards. The Governor of the island said to Mar-
shal Serrano, the other day, when the latter was in Port
Mahon in temporary exile : " The Minorcans are a curious
people. You probably find that they do not take off their
hats to you in the street, as you are accustomed to be
saluted in Madrid ? " " Yes," answered the Marshal, " I
have already learned that they care nothing whatever for
either you or me." The older people look back on the
BALEARIC DAYS.
English occupation with regret ; the younger generation
would be exceedingly well satisfied if Spain would sell the
island to the United States for a naval station. But all
unite in calling themselves Minorcans, or Mahonese, and
in drawing a very broad line between themselves and the
Spaniards of the Peninsula.
The Consul confirmed my first impressions of the hon-
esty of the people. " You may walk on any road in the
island," said he, " at any hour of the day or night, with
the most perfect security." He also gave them the highest
praise for cleanliness and order in their domestic life,
which are certainly not Spanish qualities. The young
men and women who are betrothed save every penny of
their earnings, and invest them in the articles of furniture
necessary to the establishment of a household. Simple
as are these latter, many years often elapse before they are
all procured and the nuptials may be celebrated, the par-
ties remaining steadfastly constant to each other during
the long time of waiting. They are a people in whom
almost any honest system of education, any possible sound
ideas of progress, would take immediate root ; but under
the combined shadow of Spain and Rome, what progress
is possible ?
I have never seen Broek, in Holland, but I think San
Luis must be the cleanest village in Europe. I attributed
its amazing brightness, as we approached, to the keen,
semi- African sun and the perfectly clear air ; but I found
that all the houses had been whitewashed that very after-
noon, as they regularly are every Saturday. The street
was swept so conscientiously that we might have seated
ourselves and taken our dinner anywhere, without getting
more than each man's inevitable proportion of dust in the
dishes. In the open doors, as I passed, I saw floors of
shining tiles, clean wooden furniture, women in threadbare
but decent dresses, and children no, the children were
dirty, and I confess I should not have been pleased to see
224 BY-WAYS OF EUBOPE.
them otherwise. The sand and fig-stains on those little
faces and hands were only health-marks, and they made
the brightness of the little village endurable. It would
else have seemed to be struck with an unusual disease.
We went into a house where two old women very, very
poor they were, but uncomplaining received us with
simple, unaft'ected friendliness. I spoke in Spanish and
they in Minorcan, so that the conversation was not very in-
telligible ; but the visit gave me a fleeting impression of
the sterling qualities of the people, inasmuch as it harmo-
nized with all that I had previously seen and heard.
The Consul conducted me to a little casino, where re-
freshments, limited in character, were to be procured. The
maestro, a stout fellow, with the air of a Bowery butcher,
opened his heart on learning that we were Americans. He
had served a year on board one of our men-of-war, and re-
peated, over and over again, " The way things were man-
aged there satisfied me, it corresponded with my own
ideas ! " He made me read, around a spiral pillar, the
words, " Casino del Progreso," saying, " That 's what I go
for ! " There was a church nearly opposite, and from its
architecture a man with half an eye could see that the
Jesuits had had a hand in building it. This I sketched,
and the progressive host, leaning over my shoulder, inter-
preted the drawing correctly. His extravagant admiration
made me feel that I had done well, and we parted mutually
satisfied. Indeed, this little village interested me even
more than Port Mahon, because it was more purely Minor-
can in character.
The quantities of the fig-bearing cactus about the coun-
try-houses surprised me, until I learned that the fleshy
leaves are used during the dry season as food for the mules
and asses. The fruit, which is said to be remarkably fine
on the island, is eaten by the inhabitants, and must form,
in times of want, an important article of their food ; yet
so much space would not be given to the plant, or rathei
BALEARIC DAYS. 225
tree, if the animals had not been taught to subsist upon
it. I have never before heard, in any part of the world,
of the cactus being made useful in this way. Its huge,
grotesque masses are an inseparable part of every land-
scape on the island.
We walked back to Port Mahon in the face of a north
wind which was almost cold, which blew away the rich
color from the sunset sky, leaving it pale, clear, and melan-
choly in tone ; yet thunder and violent rain followed in the
night. I spent my last evening with the Consul and his
agreeable family, and embarked on the steamer for Bar-
celona in the morning. As we passed out of the harbor,
Antonio's daughter waved her handkerchief from the win-
dow high above, on the cliff. The salute was not intended
for me, but for her husband, who was bound for Madrid,
carrying with him the cheese for Marshal Serrano. Rocked
on a rough sea, and with a keen wind blowing, we again
coasted along the southern shore of Minorca, crossed the
strait, touched at Alcudia. and then, passing the mouth of
the Bay of Pollenza, reached the northern headland of
Majorca at sunset. Here the mountain-chain falls off in
perpendicular walls a thousand feet in height, the bases of
which are worn into caverns and immense echoing vaults.
The coast-forms are as grand and wonderful as those of
Norway. Point after point, each more abrupt and distorted
than the last, came into view as we cleared the headland
all growing luminous in the mist and the orange light of
the setting sun.
Then the light faded ; the wild mountain-forms were
fused together in a cold gray mass above the sea ; the stars
came out, and my last Balearic day was at an end,
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-KOADS.
" And mule-bells tinkling down the mountain-paths of Spain."
Whiting.
J LEARNED something of the bridle-roads of Catalonia
in defiance of advice and warning, and almost against mj
own inclination. My next point of interest, after leaving
the Balearic Islands, was the forgotten Republic of Andorra,
in the Pyrenees ; and the voice of the persons whom I
consulted in Barcelona none of whom had made the
journey, or knew any one who had was unanimous that
1 should return to France, and seek an entrance from that
side. Such a course would certainly have been more com-
fortable ; but the direct route, from the very insecurity
which was predicted, offered a prospect of adventure, the
fascination of which, I regret to say, I have not yet entire-
ly outgrown. " It is a country of smugglers and robbers,"
said the banker who replenished my purse ; " and I serious-
ly advise you not to enter it. Moreover, the roads are al-
most impassable, and there is nothing to be seen on the
way."
These words, uttered with a grave face by a native Cata-
lan, ought to have decided the matter, yet they did not
To be sure, I thanked the man for his warning, and left
him to suppose that I would profit by it, rather than enter
into any discussion ; but when I quitted his office, with
fresh funds in my pocket, and corresponding courage in
my bosom, my course was already decided. Had I not
heard the same warnings, in all parts of the world, and had
not the picturesque danger always fled as I approached it?
Nevertheless, there came later moments of doubt, the sug-
gestions of that convenient life which we lead at home, and
the power of which increases with our years. Fatigue and
hardship do not become lighter from repetition, but the re
230 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
verse; the remembrance of past aches and past hungei
returns whenever the experience is renewed, and aggra-
vates it.
So, when I had descended from Montserrat, and was
waiting in the cool of the evening at the door of the rudest
possible restaurant, at the railway station of Monistrol, a
little imp whispered : " The first train is for Barcelona.
Take it and you will be in France to-morrow night. This
way is safe and speedy ; you know not what the other may
be." I watched the orange-light fade from the topmost
pinnacles of Montserrat ; a distant whistle sounded, and
the other pilgrims hurried towards the ticket-office. I
followed them as far as the door, paused a moment, and
then said to myself: " No, if I back out now, I shall never
be sure of myself again ! " Then I returned to my seat
beside the door, and saw the train go by, with the feeling
of a man who has an appointment with a dentist.
In another hour came the upward train, which would
carry me as far as the town of Manresa, where my doubt-
ful journey commenced. It was already dusk, and deli-
ciously cool after the fierce heat of the day. A full moon
shone upon the opposite hills as I sped up the valley of
*he Llobregat, and silvered the tops of the olives ; but I
.nly saw them in glimpses of unconquerable sleep, and
finally descended at the station of Manresa not fully awake.
A rough, ragged porter made a charge upon my valise,
which I yielded to his hands. " Take it to the best hotel,"
I said. " Ah, that is the ' Chicken ! '" he replied. Now, the
driver of the omnibus from Montserrat had recommended
the " San Domingo," which had altogether a better sound
than the " Chicken ; " but I did not think of resisting my
fate. I was conscious of a wonderful moonlight picture,
of a town on a height, crowned by a grand cathedral ; of a
winding river below , of steep slopes of glimmering houses ;
of lofty hills, seamed with the shadows of glens : and of
the sparkle of orange-leaves in the hanging gardens. This
CAtALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 231
while we were crossing a suspension- bridge ; at the end, we
plunged into narrow, winding streets, full of gloom and dis-
agreeable odors. A few oil-lamps burned far apart ; there
were lights in the upper windows of the houses, and the
people were still gossiping with their neighbors. When
we emerged into a plaza, it was more cheerful ; the single
cafe was crowded, the estanco for the sale of tobacco, and
the barber's shop were still open. A little farther and we
reached the " Chicken," which was an ancient and uninvit-
ing house, with a stable on the ground-floor. Here the
porter took his fee with a grin, and saying, " You will want
me in the morning ! " wished me good night.
I mounted to a dining-room nearly fifty feet in length, in
which a lonely gentleman sat, waiting for his supper. When
the hostess had conducted me to a bedroom of equal dimen-
sions, and proceeded to put clean sheets upon a bed large
enough for four Michigan soldiers, I became entirely recon-
ciled to my fate. After trying in vain to extract any intel-
ligence from a Madrid newspaper, I went to bed and slept
soundly ; but the little imp was at my ear when I woke, say-
ing : " Here you leave the railway ; after this it will not be
so easy to turn back." " Very well," I thought, " I will go
back now." I opened the shutters, let the full morning sun
blaze into the room, dipped my head into water, and then
cried out : " Begone, tempter ! I go forwards." But, alas !
it was not so once. There is a difference between spring-
ing nimbly from one's rest with a " Hurrah ! there's another
rough day before me ! " and a slow clinging to one's easy
pillow, with the sigh, " Ah ! must I go through another
rough day ? " However, that was my last moment of weak-
ness, and physical only being an outcry of the muscles
against the coming aches and strains, like that of the pack-
camel before he receives his load.
The first stage of my further journey, I learned, could be
made by a diligence which left at eleven o'clock. In the
mean time I wandered about the town, gathering in im<
BY-WAYS OP EUROfrfc.
pression of its character quite distinct from that of the pre-
vious evening. It has no architectural monuments ; for the
cathedral, like all such edifices in Spain, is unfinished, inter-
nally dark, and well supplied with bad pictures. Its posi-
tion, nevertheless, is superb, and the platform of rock upon
which it stands looks over a broad, bright, busy landscape.
The sound of water-wheels and the humming looms of fac-
tories fills the air ; however primitive the other forms of
labor may be, the people all seem to be busy. The high
houses present an agreeable variety of color, although a
rich brown is predominant ; many of them have balconies,
and the streets turn at such unexpected angles that light and
shade assist in making pictures everywhere. Manresa has
a purely Spanish aspect, and the groups on the plaza and in
the shady alleys are as lively and glowing as any in Anda-
lusia.
I read the history of the place, as given in the guide-
books, but will not here repeat it. According to my En-
glish guide, it was sacked and its inhabitants butchered by
the French, during the Peninsular War ; according to the
French guide, nothing of the kind ever took place. As I
read the books alternately, I came to the conclusion that
both sides must have .been splendidly victorious in the
battles which were fought in Spain. When the Englishman
said : " Here our army, numbering only eighteen thousand
men (of whom eight thousand were Spanish allies, of doubt-
ful service), encountered thirty-seven thousand French, and
completely routed them," the Frenchman had : " Here our
army, numbering only fifteen thousand, including seven
thousand Spaniards, put to flight thirty-three thousand
English one of the most brilliant actions of the war."
At this rate of representation, it will be a disputed ques-
tion, in the next century, whether Soult or Wellington was
driven out of Spain.
My porter of the night before made his appearance, and
as I had suspected him of interested motives in condu ;ting
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 288
me to the " Chicken," I tested his character bj giving a
smaller fee for an equal service ; but he took it with the same
thanks. Moreover, the diligence office was in the " San Do-
mingo Hotel," and I satisfied myself that the " Chicken " was
really better than the Saint. Two lumbering yellow coaches
stood in the spacious stable, which was at the same time en-
trance-hall and laundry. On one side some lean mules were
eating their barley ; on another, a pump and stone trough
supplied the house with water ; a stone staircase led to the
inhabited rooms, and three women were washing clothes at
a tank in the rear. Dogs ran about scratching themselves ;
country passengers, with boxes and baskets, sat upon stone
posts and did the same ; and now and then a restless horse
walked forth from the stalls, snuffing at one person after
another, as if hoping to find one who might be eatable.
Two mayorah or coachmen, followed by two grooms, bustled
about with bits of harness in their hands, and the washer-
women made a great clatter with their wooden beetles; but
the time passed, and nothing seemed to be accomplished on
either side. The whole scene was so thoroughly Spanish
that no one would have been surprised had the Don and
Sancho ridden into the doorway. One of the women at the
tank was certainly Maritornes.
At length, after a great deal of ceremony, one of the
vehicles drove off " It's going to Berga," said a man in
faded velvet, in answer to my question ; " and all I know is,
that that 's the way to Puigcerda." The mules were now
harnessed to our diligence and we took our places my
friend in velvet ; two stout women, one of whom carried
six dried codfish tied in a bundle ; a shriveled old man. a
mild brown soldier, and myself. It was an hour behind the
appointed time, but no one seemed to notice the delay. We
rolled out of the ammoniated shadows of the stable into a
blaze which was doubled on the white highway, and thrown
back to us from the red, scorched rocks beside it. The
valley of the Cardoner, which we entered on lear'ng Man
234 BY-WAY'S OF EUROPE.
resa, quivered in the breathless heat : the stream was almost
exhausted in its bed, and the thin gray foliage of the poplars
and olives gave but a mockery of shadow. Everywhere the
dry, red soil baked in the sunshine. Tie only refreshing
thing I saw was a break in an irrigating canal, which let
down a cascade over the rocks into the road. No water in
the world ever seemed so cool, so fresh, so glittering ; in the
thirsty landscape it flashed like a symbol of generous, prod-
igal life. Who could fling gold around him with so beauti-
ful a beneficence ?
The features of the scenery, nevertheless, were too bold
and picturesque to be overlooked. As we gained a longer
vista, Montserrat lifted his blue horns over the nearer hills,
and a dim streak of snow, far in the northwest, made signal
for the Pyrenees. Abrupt as were the heights inclosing the
valley, they were cultivated to the summit, and the brown
country-houses, perched on projecting spurs, gave them a
life Which the heat and thirsty color of the soil could not
takt away. Our destination was Cardona, and after a
smothering ride of two hours we reached the little village
of Suria, half-way in distance, but by no means in time.
Beyond it, the country became rougher, the road steep and
toilsome ; and our three mules plodded slowly on, with
drooping heads and tails, while, inside, the passengers nod-
ded one after the other, and became silent. We crossed the
Cardoner. and ascended a long slope of the hills, where the
view, restricted to the neighboring fields, became so monot-
onous that I nodded and dozed with the rest.
We were all aroused by the diligence stopping beside a
large farm-house. There was a general cry for water, and
the farmer's daughter presently came out with a stone
pitcher, cool and dripping from the well. The glass was
first given to me, as a stranger ; and I was about setting it
to my lips, when two or three of the passengers suddenly
cried out, " Stop ! " I paused, and looked around in sur-
prise. The man in velvet had already dropped a piece of
CATALONIAN BREDLE-KOADS. 23fi
sugar into the water, and the old woman op\ osite took A
bottle from her basket, saying, " This is better ! " and addex 1
a spoonful of anise-seed brandy. " Now," exclaimed both al
the same time, " you can drink with safety." The supply of
sugar and anise-seed held out, and each passenger was re-
galed at the expense of the two Samaritans. After this, con-
versation brightened, and we all became talkative and friend-
ly. The man in velvet, learning my destination, exclaimed :
" O, you ought to have gone by way of Berga ! It is a dread-
ful country about Solsona and the Rio Segre." But the old
woman leaned over and whispered : " Don't mind what he
says. I come from Solsona, and it's a good country a
very good country, indeed. Go on, and you will see ! "
The valley of the Cardoner had become narrower, the
mountains were higher, and there were frequent ruins of
mediaeval castles on the summits. When we had reached
the top of the long ascent, the citadel of Cardona in front
suddenly rose sharp and abrupt over the terraced slopes of
vine. It appeared to be within a league, but our coachman
was so slow and the native passengers so patient, that we did
not arrive for two hours. Drawing nearer, the peculiar colors
of the earth around the base of an isolated mountain an-
nounced to us the celebrated salt-mines of the place. Red,
blue, purple, yellow, and gray, the bare cliffs glittered in the
sun as if frosted over with innumerable crystals. This mass
of native salt is a mile and a half in circumference, with a
height of about two hundred and fifty feet. The action of
the atmosphere seems to have little effect upon it, and the
labor of centuries has no more than tapped its immense
stores. As in Wieliczka, in Poland, the workmen in the
mines manufacture cups, ornaments, pillars, and even chan-
deliers, from the pure saline crystal objects which,
although they remain perfect in the dry atmosphere of
Spain, soon melt into thin air when carried to Northern
lands.
The town of Cardona occupies the crest of a sharp hill.
236 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
rising above the mountain of salt. Between it and the rhrar
on the north, stands the citadel, still more loftily perchedt
like a Greek acropolis. Our road passed entirely around
the latter and mounted to the town on the opposite side,
where the diligence set us down in front of a rudefonda.
The old gate was broken down, the walls ruined, and the
first houses we passed were uninhabited. There was no
longer an octroi ; in fact, the annoyances of travel in Spain
diminish in proportion as one leaves the cities and chief
thoroughfares. As I dismounted, the coachman took hold
of my arm, saying, " Cavalier, here is a decent man who will
get a horse for you, and travel with you to the Seo de Urgel.
I know the man, and it is I who recommend him." The per-
son thus introduced was a sturdy, broad-shouldered fellow,
with short black hair, and hard, weather-beaten features.
He touched his red Catalan cap, and then looked me stead-
ily in the face while, in answer to my inquiries, he offered to
be ready at four o'clock the next morning, and demanded
six dollars for himself and horse, the journey requiring two
days. There were two or three other arrieros present, but
I plainly saw that none of them would enter into competi-
tion with a man recommended by the coachman. More-
over, as far as appearances went, he was the best of the lot,
and so I engaged him at once.
While the fat hostess of ihefonda was preparing my din-
ner, I strolled for an hour or two about the town. The
church is renowned for having been founded in the year
820, immediately after the expulsion of the Moors from this
part of Spain, and for containing the bodies of St. Celadonio
and St. Erneterio whoever those holy personages may
have been. I confess I never heard of them before. What
I admired in the church was the splendid mellow brown tint
of its massive ancient front. Brown* is the characteristic
color of Spain, from the drapery of Murillo and the walls
of cathedrals to the shadow of cypresses and the arid soil
of the hills. Whether brightening into gold or ripenino
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS.
into purple, it always seems to give the key of color. In
the streets of Cardona, it was the base upon which endless
picturesque groups of people were painted, women spin
ing flax, children cooling their bare bodies on the stones,
blacksmiths and cobblers forging and stitching in the open
air all with a keen glance of curiosity, but also a respect-
ful greeting for the stranger. The plaza, which was called,
like all plazas in Catalonia, de la Constitution, overhung the
deep ravine at the foot of the salt mountain. From its
parapet I looked upon the vineyard-terraces into which the
hills have been fashioned, and found them as laboriously
constructed as those of the Rheingau. A cliff of salt below
sparkled like prismatic glass in the evening light, but all the
nearer gardens lay in delicious shadow, and the laden asses
began to jog homewards from the distant fields. There was
a cafe on the plaza patronized only by two or three military
idlers ; the people still worked steadily while the daylight
lasted, charming away their fatigue by the most melancholy
songs.
The inn was not an attractive place. The kitchen was
merely one corner of the public room, in which chairs lay
overturned and garments tumbled about, as if the house
had been sacked. The members of the family sat and
chattered in this confusion, promising whatever I de-
manded, but taking their own time about getting it I had
very meagre expectations of dinner, and was therefore not
a little surprised when excellent fresh fish, stewed rabbits,
and a roasted fowl were set successively before me. The
merry old landlady came and went, anxious to talk, but
prevented by her ignorance of the pure Spanish tongue.
However, she managed to make me feel quite at home,
and well satisfied that I had ventured so far into the re-
gion of ill-repute.
What was going on in the town that night I cannot ima-
gine ; but it was a tumult of the most distracting kind.
First, there were drums and as it seemed to me tin
238 BY-WATS OF EUROPE.
pans beaten for an hour or two in the street below ; then
a chorus of piercing, dreadfully inharmonious voices ; then
a succession of short cries or howls, like those of the
oriental dervishes. Sometimes the noises moved away,
and I settled myself to sleep, whereupon they came back
worse than before. " children of Satan ! " I cried, " will
ye never be still ? " Some time after midnight the voices
became hoarse : one by one dropped off, and the charivari
gradually ceased, from the inability of the performers to
keep it up longer. Then horses were led forth from the
stable on the ground-floor, whips were violently cracked,
and the voices of grooms began to be heard. At three
o'clock Juan, my new guide, came into the room with a
coarse bag, in which he began packing the contents of my
valise, which could not otherwise be carried on horseback,
and so my rest was over before it had commenced.
I found the diligence about starting on its return to
Manresa, and my horse, already equipped, standing in the
stable. The sack, valise, and other articles were so packed,
before and behind the saddle, that only a narrow, deep
cleft remained for me to sit in. The sun had not yet risen,
and the morning air was so cool that I determined to walk
down the hill and mount at the foot. Stepping over two
grooms who were lying across the stable door on a piece of
hide, sound asleep, we set forth on our journey.
The acropolis rose dark against the pearly sky, and the
valley of the Cardoner lay cool and green in the lingering
shadows. Early as was the hour, laborers were already on
their way to the fields ; and when we reached the ancient
bridge of seven arches, I saw the two old ladies of Solsona
in advance, mounted on mules, and carrying their baskets,
boxes, and dried codfish with them. Although my French
guide-book declared that the road before me was scarcely
practicable, the sight of these ladies was a better authority
to the contrary. I mounted at the bridge, and joined the
cavalcade, which was winding across a level tract of land
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 239
between walled fields and along the banks of irrigating
canals. Juan, however, found the mules too slow, and
soon chose a side-path, which, in the course of a mile or
two, brought us into the main track, some distance in ad
vance of the old ladies. By this time the sun was up and
blazing on all the hills ; the wide, open country about Car-
dona came to an end, and we struck into a narrow glen,
covered with forests of pine. Juan directed me to ford
the river and follow the track on the opposite side, while
he went on to a foot-bridge farther up. " In a few mi-
nutes," he said, " you will find a carretera" a cart-road,
which proved to be a superb macadamized highway, yet
virgin of any wheel. Men were working upon it, smooth-
ing the turf on either side, and leveling the gravel as care-
fully as if the Queen's mail-coach travelled that way ; but
the splendid piece of workmanship has neither beginning
nor end, and will be utterly useless until it touches a fin-
ished road somewhere.
A short distance farther the glen expanded, and I re-
crossed the river by a lofty new bridge. The road was
carried over the bottom-land on an embankment at least
forty feet high, and then commenced ascending the hills
on the northern bank. After passing a little village on the
first height, we entered a forest of pine, which continued
without interruption for four or five miles. The country
became almost a wilderness, and wore a singular air of
loneliness, contrasted with the busy region I had left be-
hind. As I approached the summit, the view extended
far and wide over a dark, wooded sweep of hills, rarely
broken by a solitary farm-house and the few cleared fields
around it. On the nearer slope below me there was now
and then such a house ; but the most of them were in
ruins, and young pines were shooting up in the deserted
vineyards. The Catalans are so laborious in their habits,
so skilled in the art of turning waste into fruitful land,
that there must have been some special reason for thia
240 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
desolation. My guide either could not or would not ex
plain it.
When we reached the northern side of the mountain^
cultivation again commenced, and I saw the process of
clearing woodland and preparing the soil for crops. The
trees are first removed, the stumps and roots dug up, and
then all the small twigs, brambles, weeds, and dry sticks,
everything, in fact, which cannot be used for lumber
and firewood, are gathered into little heaps all over the
ground, and covered with the top soil. A year, probably,
must elapse, before these heaps are tolerably decomposed ;
then they are spread upon the surface and ploughed under.
The virgin soil thus acquired is manured after every crop,
and there is no such thing as an exhausted field.
The fine highway came to an end as suddenly as it had
commenced, in the rough forest, with no village near. The
country became broken and irregular, and the bridle-path
descended continually through beautiful groves of oak,
with an undergrowth of box and lavender, the odors from
which filled the air. I was nearly famished, when, after
a journey of five or six leagues, we emerged from the
woods, and saw the rich valley-basin of Solsona before us,
with the dark old town in its centre. Here, again, every
available foot of soil was worked into terraces, drained or
irrigated as the case might be, and made to produce its
utmost. As I rode along the low walls, the ripe, heavy
ears of wheat leaned over and brushed my head. Although
there is no wheeled vehicle not even a common cart
in this region, all the roads being the rudest bridle paths,
the town is approached by a magnificent bridge of a dozen
arches, spanning a grassy hollow, at the bottom of which
flows a mere thread of a brook.
At the farther end of the bridge, a deserted gateway
ushers the traveller into Solsona. Few strangers, I sus-
pect, ever enter the place ; for labor ceased as I passed
along the streets, and even Don Basilio, on his way home
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 241
from morning mass, lifted his shovel hat, and bowed pro-
foundl). Many of the houses were in ruins, and bore the
marks of fire and balls. I rode into the ground-floor of a
dark house which bore no sign or symbol over the door,
but Juan assured me that it was an inn. A portly, digni-
fied gentleman advanced out of the shadows, and addressed
me in the purest Castilian ; he was the landlord, and his
daughter was cook and waiting-maid. The rooms above
were gloomy and very ancient ; there was scarcely a piece
of furniture which did not appear to be two centuries old ;
yet everything was clean and orderly.
" Can we have breakfast ? " I asked.
" Whatever we have is at your disposition," said the land-
lord. " What would you be pleased to command ? "
" Egg 8 ' mea t, bread, and wine ; but nothing that cannot
be got ready in a few minutes."
The landlord bowed, and went into the kitchen. Pres-
ently he returned and asked, " Did I understand you to
wish for meat, Cavalier ? "
" Certainly, if you have it," I replied.
" Yes, we have it in the house," said he ; " but I didn't
know what your custom was."
I did not guess what he meant until a plate of capital
mutton-chops was smoking under my nose. Then it
flashed across my mind that the day was Friday, and I no
better than a heathen in the eyes of my worthy host. Ac-
cording to the country custom of Spain, master and groom
fare alike, and Juan took his seat beside me without wait-
ing for an invitation. I ought to have invited the landlord^
but I was too hungry to remember it. To my surprise
and relief also Juan ate his share of the chops, and there
was a radiant satisfaction on his countenance. I have no
doubt he looked upon me as the responsible party, and did
not even consider it worth while to confess afterwards.
* You have a beautiful country here," I remarked to th
16
242 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
landlord, knowing that such an expression is always ao
cepted as a half-compliment.
" It is a country," he exclaimed with energy, " que nada
falta, which lacks nothing ! There is everything you
want; there is not a better country under the sun ! No, it
is not the country that we complain of."
" What then ? " I asked.
For a moment he made no reply, then, apparently chang-
ing the subject, said, " Did you see the houses in ruins as
you came into Solsona? That was done in the Carlist
wars. We suffered terribly : nearly half the people of this
region were slaughtered."
" What good comes of these wars ? " I asked. " Is any-
thing better than it was before ? What have you to offse*
all that fire and murder ? "
" That's it ! " he cried ; " that was what I meant."
He shook his head in a melancholy way, drank a glass
of wine, and said, as if to prevent my continuing the sub-
ject : " You understand how to travel, or you would not
come into such wild parts as these. But here, instead of
having the rattling of cart-wheels in your ears all day, you
have the songs of the nightingales. You don't have dust in
your nose, but the smell of grain and flowers ; you can
start when you please, and ride as far as you like. That's
my way to travel, and I wish there were more people of the
same mind. We don't often see a foreign cavalier in
Solsona yet it's not a bad country, as you yourself say."
By this time Juan and I had consumed the chops and
emptied the bottle ; and, as there were still six leagues to
be travelled that day, we prepared to leave Solsona. The
town, of barely two thousand inhabitants, has an ancient
church, a deserted palace of the former Dukes of Cardona,
and a miraculous image of the Virgin neither of which
things is sufficiently remarkable in its way to be further
described. The age of the place is apparent ; a dark, cool,
mournful atmosphere of the Past fills its streets, and the
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS.
traces of recent war seem to have been left from mediaeval
times.
The sky was partly overcast, but there was an intense,
breathless heat in the air. Our path led across the boun-
teous valley into a wild ravine, which was spanned by two
ancient aqueducts. The pointed arch of one of them
hinted of Moorish construction, as well as the platform and
tank of a fountain in a rocky nook beyond. Here the
water gushed out in a powerful stream, as in those foun-
tains of the Anti-Lebanon in the country of Galilee.
Large plane-trees shaded the spot, and the rocks overhung
it on three sides, yet no one was there to enjoy the shade
and coolness. The place was sad, because so beautiful
and so lonely.
At the farther end of the ravine we entered a forest of
pine, with an undergrowth of box, and commenced ascend-
ing the mountain-range dividing the Valley of Solsona from
that of the Rio Salado. It might have been the Lesser
Atlas, and the sky that of Africa, so fierce was the heat, so
dry and torn the glens up the sides of which toiled my
laboring horse. Birds and insects were alike silent : the
lizard, scampering into his hole in the red bank of earth,
was the only living thing. For an hour or more we slowly
plodded upward ; then, emerging from the pine wood upon
a barren summit, I looked far and wide over a gray, for-
bidding, fiery land. Beyond the Salado Valley, which lay
beneath me, rose a range of uninhabited mountains, half
clothed with forest or thicket, and over them the outer
Pyrenees, huge masses of bare rock, cut into sharp, irreg-
ular forms. A house or two, and some cultivated patches,
were visible along the banks of the Salado ; elsewhere,
there was no sign of habitation.
O
The bajada, or descent to the river, was so steep and
rough that I was forced to dismount and pick my way
down the zigzags of burning sand and sliding gravel. Al
the bottom I forded the river, the water of which is saline
244 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
and then hastened to a mill upon the further bank, to pro
cure a cup of water. The machinery was working in
charge of a lusty girl, who shut off the water while she ran
to a spring in the ravine behind, and filled an earthen jar.
There was nothing of Spanish grace and beauty about her.
She had gray eyes, a broad, flat nose, brown hair, broad
shoulders, and the arms and legs of a butcher. But she
was an honest, kind-hearted creature, and the joyous good-
will with which she served me was no less refreshing than
the water.
The path now followed the course of the Rio Salado,
under groves of venerable ilex, which fringed the foot of
the mountain. Thickets of box and tamarisk overhurij.-
the stream, and the sight of the water rushing and mur-
muring through sun and shade, made the heat more endur-
able. Another league, however, brought me to the little
hamlet of Ojern, where my road took to the hills again.
Nature has given this little place a bay of rich soil betweet
the river and the mountains, man has blackened it with
fire and riddled it with shot ; and between the two it has
become a complete and surprising picture. Out of superb
gardens of orange and fig trees, over hedges of roses and
wild mounds of woodbine, rise the cracked and tottering
walls heaps of ruin, hot still inhabited. Nothing could
be finer than the contrast of the riotous vegetation, strug-
gling to grow away from the restraining hand into its sav-
age freedom, with the firm texture, the stubborn forms and
the dark, mellow coloring of the masonry. Of course the
place was dirty, and offended one sense as much as it de-
lighted the other. It is a pity that neatness and comfort
cannot be picturesque.
I knew that the Rio Segre could not be very distant, but
1 ifas far from guessing how much the way might be
lengthened by heat and almost impracticable roads. This
ascent was worse than the former, since there- was no forest
to throw an occasional shade. A scrubby chaparral covered
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 246
the red and flinty slopes, upon which the sun beat until
the air above them quivered. My horse was assailed with
a large gad-fly, and kicked, stamped, and whirled his head
as if insane. I soon had occasion to notice a physiological
fact that the bones of a horse's head are more massive
than those of the human shin. .When we reached the sum-
mit of the mountain, after a long, long pull, I was so
bruised, shaken, and exhausted that Juan was obliged to
help me out of the saddle, or rather, the crevice between
two piles of baggage in which I was wedged. The little
imp came back chuckling, and said, " I told you so ! " In
such cases. I always recall Cicero's consolatory remark, and
go on my way with fresh courage.
Moreover, far below, at the base of the bare peaks of
rock which rose against the western sky, I saw the glitter
of the Rio Segre, and knew that my day's labor was nearly
at an end. The descent was so rugged that I gave the
reins to Juan, and went forward on foot. After getting
down the first steep, the path fell into and followed the
dry bed of a torrent, which dropped rapidly towards the
river. In half an hour I issued from the fiery ravine, and
was greeted by a breeze that had cooled its wings on the
Pyrenean snow. Olive-trees again shimmered around me,
and a valley-bed of fruitful fields expanded below. A mile
further, around the crest of the lower hills. I found myself
on a rocky point, just over the town of Oliana. It was the
oldest and brownest place I had seen, up to this time ; but
there was shade in its narrow streets, and rest for me under
one of its falling roofs. A bell in the tall, square tower of
the church chimed three ; and Juan, coming up with the
horse, insisted that I should mount, and make my entrance
as became a cavalier.
I preferred comfort to dignity ; but when everybody can
see that a man has a horse, he really loses nothing by
walking. The first houses we passed appeared to be de-
serted ; then came the main street, in which work, gossip,
246 BY-WAYS OP EUBJPE.
and recreation were going on in the open air. Here there
was a swinging sign with the word " Hostal " over the inn
door, and most welcome was that inn, with its unwashed
floors, its fleas, and its odors of garlic. I was feverish with
the absorption of so much extra heat, and the people
gave me the place of comfort at an open window, with a
view of green fields between the poplars. Below me there
was a garden belonging to the priest, who, in cassock and
shovel-hat, was inspecting his vegetables. Gathering up
his sable skirts, he walked mincingly between the rows of
lettuce and cauliflower, now and then pointing out a lan-
guishing plant, which an old woman in attendance then
proceeded to refresh by flinging water upon it with a pad-
dle, from a tank in a corner of the garden. Browning's
" Soliloquy in a Spanish Cloister " came into my head, and
I think I should have cried out, could the padre have un-
derstood the words : " O, that rose has prior claims ! " I
must say, however, that the garden was admirably kept,
and the priest's table was all the better for his horticultural
tastes.
There were three or four jolly fellows in the inn, who
might have served in Sherman's army, they were so tall
and brown and strong. My attention was drawn from the
priest by their noise and laughter, and I found them gath-
ered about a wild-looking man, dressed in rags. The lat-
ter talked so rapidly, in the Catalan dialect, that I could
understand very little of what he said ; but the landlady
came up and whispered, " He's a loco (an idiot), but he
does no harm." To me he seemed rather to be a genius,
with a twist in his brain. He was very quick in retort,
and often turned the laugh upon his questioner ; while
from his constant appeals to " Maria Santissima," a strong
religious idea evidently underlay his madness. The land-
lord gave him a good meal, and he then went on his way.
cheerful, perhaps happy, in his isolation.
I suppose Juan must have been well satisfied to eat
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 247
meat on a Friday without the sin being charged to his per-
Bonal account, and must therefore have given a hint to the
landlord; for, without my order, a chicken was set before
me at dinner, and he took the drumsticks as of right
When the sun got behind the tall mountain opposite, I
wandered about the town, seeing nothing that seems worthy
of being recorded, yet every view was a separate delight
which I cannot easily forget. There were no peculiarities
of architecture or of costume ; but the houses were so
quaintly irregular, the effects of light and shade so bold
and beautiful, the colors so balanced, that each street with
its inhabitants might have been painted without change.
There was a group before the shoemaker's door the
workman on his bench, a woman with a shoe, a young fel-
low in a scarlet cap, who had paused to say a word, and
two or three children tumbling on the stones ; another at
the fountain women filling jars, coming and going with
the load on hip or head ; another at the barber's, and all
framed by houses brown as Murillo's color, with a back-
ground of shadow as rich as Rembrandt's. These are sub-
jects almost too simple to paint with the pen ; they require
the pencil.
In the evening, the sultry vapors which had been all day
floating in the air settled over the gorge, and presently
thunder-echoes were buffeted back and forth between the
rocky walls. The skirts of a delicious rain trailed over the
valley, and Isight breathed odor and coolness and healing
balsam as she came down from the western peaks. Rough
and dirty as was the guests' room of the " hostal," my bed-
room was clean and pleasant. A floor of tiles, a simple
iron washstand resembling an ancient tripod, one chair,
and a bed, coarsely, but freshly spread what more can a
reasonable man desire ? The linen (though it is a bull to
say so) was of that roughly woven cotton which one finds
only in southern Europe, Africa, and the Orient, which al-
ways seems cool and clean, and has nothing in common
248 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
with the froi.zy, flimsy stuff we find in cheap places at
home. Whoever has slept in a small new town (I beg jar-
don, " city ") on an Illinois prairie, knows the feeling of
soft, insufficient sheets and flabby pillows, all hinting of
frequent use, between which he thinks, ere sleep conquers
his disgust, of the handkerchief which awaits him as towel
in the morning. In the poorest inn in Spain I am better
lodged than in the Jimplecute House in Roaring City.
Juan called me at three o'clock, for another severe day
was before us. Our road followed the course of the Rio
Segre, and there were no more burning mountains to
climb ; but both M. de Lavigne and Mr. Ford, in the little
which they vouchsafed to say of this region, mentioned the
frightful character of the gorges through which the river
breaks his way downward to the Ebro ; and their accounts,
if the timid traveller believes them, may well deter him
from making the journey. In the cool half-hour before
sunrise, as I rode across the circular valley, or conque, of
Oliana, towards the gloomy portals of rock out of which
the river issues, my spirits rose in anticipation of the wild
scenery beyond. The vineyards and orchards were wet
and fresh, and the air full of sweet smells. Clouds rested
on all the stony summits, rising or falling as the breeze
shifted. The path moifnted to the eastern side of the
gorge, where, notched along the slanting rock, it became a
mere thread to the eye, and finally disappeared.
As I advanced, however, I found that the passage was
less dangerous than it seemed. The river roared far
below, and could be reached by a single plunge ; but there
was a good, well-beaten mule-track the same, and prob-
ably the only one, which has been used since the first
human settlement. Soon after entering the gorge, it de-
scended to within a hundred feet of the river, and then
crossed to the opposite bank by a bold bridge of a single
arch, barely wide enough for a horse to walk upon. The
parapet on either side was not more than two feet Ugh,
CATALONiAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 249
and it was not a pleasant sensation to look down from the
saddle upon the roaring and whirling flood. Yet the feel-
ing was one which must be mastered ; for many a mile of
sheer precipice lay before me. The Segre flows through a
mere cleft in the heart of the terrible mountains, and the
path continuously overhangs the abyss. Bastions of naked
rock, a thousand feet high, almost shut out the day ; and
the traveller, after winding for hours in the gloom of theii
shadows, feels as if buried from the world.
The sides of the gorge are nearly perpendicular, and the
dark gray rock is unrelieved by foliage, except where soil
enough has lodged to nourish a tuft of box ; yet here and
there, wherever a few yards of less abrupt descent occur,
in spots not entirely inaccessible, the peasants have built
a rude wall, smoothed the surface, and compelled a scanty
tribute of grass or grain. Tall, wild-looking figures, in
brown jackets and knee-breeches, with short, broad-bladed
scythes flashing on their shoulders, met us; and as they
leaned back in the hollows of the rock to let us pass, with
the threatening implements held over their heads, a very
slight effort of the imagination made them more dangerous
than the gulf which yawned on the opposite side of the
path. They were as rough and savage as the scenery in
appearance ; but in reality they were simple-hearted, honest
persons. All that I saw of the inhabitants of this part of
Catalonia assured me that I was perfectly safe among them.
After the first day of my journey, I gave up the prospect
of finding danger enough to make an adventure.
By and by the path, so lonely for the first hour after
starting, began to be animated. The communication be-
tween the valleys of the Spanish Pyrenees and the lower
Segre, as far as Lerida, is carried on through this defile,
and pack-mules were met from time to time. Juan walked
in advance, listening for the tinkling bells of the coming
animals, and selecting places were the road was broad
enough for us to puss without danger. Sometimes I waited,
250 BY-WAYS OP EUROPE
sometimes .hey one leaning close against the rock, one
pacing slowly along the brink, with the river below boom-
ing into caverns cut out of the interlocking bases of the
mountains. As the path sank or rose, accommodating it-
self to the outline of the cliffs, and the bells of the unseen
mules or horses chimed in front around some corner of the
gorge, they chimed to my ears the words of another, who
foresaw as well as remembered.
O. dear and distant Friend and Poet ! henceforth I shall
hear your voice in this music of Spain. All that day, in
the wild and wonderful canons of the Segre, you rode with
me ; and poetical justice demanded that I should have paid,
like Uhland to his boatman, for the other spirit who sat
upon my weary steed. I tried to look with your clear eyes,
so quick to detect and interpret beauty ; and I try now to
write of the scenery, so that you may behold it through
mine. As turn after turn of the winding gorge disclosed
some grander conformation of the overhanging heights,
some new pinnacle of rock piercing the air, or cavern
opening its dark arch at the base of a precipice, I drew
you from your quiet cottage by the Merrimack, and said, as
we paused together in a myrtle-roofed niche in the rocks,
" All this belongs to us, for we alone have seen it ! "
But, alas ! how much of subtle form, of delicate grada-
tion of color, of fleeting moods of atmosphere, escapes us
when we try to translate the experience of the eyes ! I
endeavor to paint the living and breathing body of Nature,
and I see only a hard black silhouette, like those shadows
of grandfathers which hang in old country homes. Only
to minds that of themselves understand and can guess is
the effort not lost. A landscape thus partly describes it-
self; and so, in this case, I must hope that something of
the grand and lonely valley of the Rio Segre may have
entered into my words.
Perhaps the best general impression of the scenery may
be suggested by a single peculiarity Two hours aftet
CATALONIAN BBIDLE-ROADS. 251
entering the defile, I issued from it into the conque of
Nargo an open circular basin some three miles in
breadth, beyond which the mountains again interlock.
The term conque (shell ?) is applied to these valleys, which
occur regularly at intervals of from six to ten miles ; and
their arrangement is picturesquely described in French as
as being en chapekt, for they are literally strung like beads
on the thread of the river. No part of Europe is so old
(to the eye) as these valleys. There seems to have been
no change for a thousand years. If the air were not so
dry, one could fancy that the villages would be gradually
buried under a growth of moss and lichens. The brown
rust on their masonry is almost black, the walls of the ter-
raced fields are as secure in their places as the natural rock,
and the scars left by wars are not to be distinguished from
those of age. Whenever there is a surplus of population it
must leave, for it cannot be subsisted. There may be
mountain-paths leading inland from these valleys, but none
are visible ; each little community is inclosed by a circle
of tremendous stony walls and pinnacles, which the river
alone has been able to pierce.
At the further end of the conque of Nargo lay the vil-
lage, perched upon a bold crag. Several sharp, isolated
mountains, resembling the horns and needles of the Alps,
rose abruptly out of the open space ; and their lower faces
of dark vermilion rock made a forcible contrast with the
splendid green of the fields. We did not pause in the
village, but descended its ladder of a street to the river-
wall, and plunged at once into a second gorge, as grand
and savage as the first, though no more than a league in
extent. Juan again went ahead and warned the coming
muleteers. In another hour I reached the conque of Or-
gafid, a rich and spacious tract of land, with the village of
the same name on a rock, precisely like Nargo. A high,
conical peak on the left appeared to be inaccessible, yet
there was a white chapel on its very summit " Look
there ! " said Juan, " that saint likes a cool place."
252 ijY-Vl AYS OF EUfcOPE.
Fine old walnut-tree made their appearance in thii
valley ; water was everywhere abundant, and the gardens
through which I approached the village were filled with
shade and the sound of streams. Indeed, the terraces of
ancient vines and fruit-trees, mixed with cypresses and
bosky alleys of flowering shrubs, might have belonged to
the palaces of an extinct nobility ; but the houses which
followed were those of peasants, smoky with age, low, dark,
and dirty. A pack of school-children, in the main street,
hailed me with loud shouts, whereat the mechanics looked
up from their work, and the housewives came to the doors.
There was a dusky inn, with a meek, pinched landlady,
who offered eggs and a guisado (stew) with tomatoes.
While these were cooking, she placed upon the table a
broad-bellied bottle with a spout, something like an old-
fashioned oil-can in shape. I was not Catalan enough to
drink without a glass ; but Juan raising the bottle above
his head, spirted a thin stream of wine into his open mouth,
and drank long and luxuriously. When he was satisfied, a
dexterous turn of the wrist cut off the stream, and not a
drop was spilled. At the table, these bottles pass from
hand to hand one cannot say from mouth to mouth, for
the lips never touch them. I learned to drink in the same
fashion without much difficulty, and learned thereby that
much of the flavor of the wine is lost. The custom seems
to have been invented to disguise a bad vintage.
While we were breakfasting, a French peasant, whom I
had seen at Oliana, arrived. He was on foot, and bound
for Foix, by way of Andorra. This was also my route, and
I accepted his offer of engaging another horse for me at
Urgel, in the evening, and accompanying me over the Pyr-
enees. He was not a very agreeable person, but it was a
satisfaction to find some one with whom I could speak. I
left him at the table, with a company of Spanish muleteerSj
Bud never saw him afterwards.
Before leaving Organa, I was stopped in the street by
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 258
man who demanded money, saying something about the
" Pons," which I could not comprehend. It fi.ially oc-
curred to me that the defile through which I was about to
pass is named Los tres Pons (The Three Bridges) on the
old maps of Catalonia, and that the man was asking for
toll which proved to be the case. The three cuartos
which 1 paid were the veriest trifle for the privilege of
passing over such a road as followed. The mountains were
here loftier, and therefore more deeply cloven ; the former
little attempts at 'cultivation ceased, for even Catalonian
thrift shrank from wresting any profit out of walls so bare
and bluff that scarcely a wild goat could cling to their
ledges. Two hundred feet below, the river beat against
the rocks with a sullen, mysterious sound, while, from one
to two thousand feet above, the jagged coping of the pre-
cipices cut the sky. A cool, steady wind drew down the
cleft, filling it with a singular humming sound. The path
crossed to the eastern side by a tremulous wooden bridge
laid flat upon natural abutments ; then, a mile further, re-
crossed by a lofty stone arch, under which there was a
more ancient one, still perfect. Several miles of the same
wonderful scenery succeeded scenery the like of which
I know not where to find in Switzerland. The gorge of
Gondo, on the Italian side of the Simplon, is similar in
character, but less grand and majestic. Far up in the enor-
mous cliffs, I saw here and there the openings of cav-
erns, to which no man has ever climbed ; cut into the
heart of inaccessible walls were unexpected glens, green
nests of foliage, safe from human intrusion, where the
nightingales sang in conscious security ; and there were
points so utterly terrible in all their features that the ex-
istence of a travelled path was the greatest wonder of all.
In the preceding defiles, Nature had accidentally traced
out the way, but here it had been forced by sheer labor
and daring. Sometimes it was hewn into the face of the
upright rock ; sometimes it rested on arches built up fitnu
254 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
below, the worn masonry of which threatened to give raj
as I passed over. Now. fortunately, the tinkling of mule*
bells was rare, for there were few points where travellers
could safely meet. Convulsion was as evident in the struc-
ture of the mountains themselves as in their forcible sep-
aration. In some places the perpendicular strata were
curiously bent, as if the top had cooled rapidly and begun
to lean over upon the fluid ascending mass. The summits
assumed the wildest and most fantastic forms, especially
about the centre of the mountain range. When I had
crossed the third bridge, which is more than a league
above the second, the heights fell away, the glen gradually
opened, and I saw before me the purple chain of the Pyr-
enees, mottled with dark patches of forest, and crested
with snow.
The pass of The Three Bridges has its tragic episode
of recent history, in addition to those which the centuries
have forgotten. Here, forty years ago, the Count of Spain,
who governed Catalonia in the name of Ferdinand VIL,
was. betrayed by his own adjutant, by whom, and by a priest
named Ferrer, he was murdered. The deed is supposed to
have been committed at the instigation of Don Carlos. A
stone was tied to the corpse, and it was flung from the
rocks into the torrent of the Segre. The place breathes
of vengeance and death ; and one seems to inhale a new
air when he emerges into the conque of Le Pla, after
being inclosed for two hours within those terrible gates.
It was a double delight to me to come upon lush mead-
ows, and smell the vernal sweetness of the flowering grass.
Leaving the river on my left, I struck eastward along the
sides of clayey hills, with slopes of vine above me, and the
broad green meadows below. The vegetation had already
a more northern character ; clumps of walnut, poplar, and
willow grew by the brooksides, and the fields of wheat were
not yet ripe for harvest. I passed a picturesque, tumbling
village called Arfa, crossed the Segre for the last time, and
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 265
then rode onward into a valley several miles in diameter,
the bed of which was broken by rounded hills. This was
the Valley of Urgel, or " the See," el seu, as it is called
by the people in their dialect. The term recalls the days
when the Bishop was a sovereign prince, and his see a
temporal, as well as ecclesiastical government
Juan pointed out a fortress in advance, which I supposed
to be the town. Near it, on the slope of the hill, there was
a mass of buildings, baking in the afternoon sun ; and I
know not which was most melancholy, the long lines of
cracked, deserted ramparts on the hill, or the crumbling,
uninhabited houses on the slope below. I did not see six
persons in the place, which was not Urgel, but Castel
Ciudad. The former city is a mile further, seated in the
centre of the plain. I saw, on my left, the mouth of a glen
of the Pyrenees, and guessed, before the groom said so,
that within its depths lay the forgotten Republic of An-
dorra. The Valira, the one stream of the Republic, poured
upon the plain its cold green waters, which I forded, in
several channels, before reaching the gates of Urgel.
Juan had cheered me with the promise of a good inn.
The exterior of the house was, if anything, a trifle meaner
than that of the neighboring houses ; the entrance was
through a stable, and the kitchen and public room very
dirty ; yet, these once passed, I entered a clean, spacious,
and even elegant bedroom. A door therefrom opened
upon a paved terrace, with a roof of vine and a superb
view of the Pyrenees ; and hither, as I sat and rested my
weary bones, came the landlord, and praised the country.
There was inexhaustible coal in the mountains, he said ;
there was iron in the water ; the climate was the best in
Spain ; people were healthy and lived long and the only
thing wanting was a road to some part of the world.
The towns through which I had passed seemed as old
and lonely as any towns could well be ; but they are tame
beside the picturesque antiquity of Urgel. Nothing seems
256 BY-WAYS OF EUROFh.
to have been changed here since the twelfth century.
streets are narrow and gloomy, but almost every house
rests on massive arches, which form continuous arcades,
where the mechanics sit and ply their avocations. The
vistas of these arched passages are closed either with a
single building of very primitive and ponderous architec-
ture, or by the stones of a wall as old as the times of the
Moors. The place is like a gallery of old sepia drawings.
I attracted the usual wonder, as I loitered through the
gloom of the arcades ; work was suspended while I passed,
and tongues were silent. When I entered the venerable
cathedral, which was finished six hundred years ago, the
solitary worshipper stopped in the midst of an ave, and
stared at me with open mouth. The spacious Gothic nave,
however, was less attractive than the pictures outside ; so 1
passed from the interior to the exterior shadows one
about as dense as the other. Presently I came upon a
massive house, with a magnificent flat-roofed arbor of
grapes beside it, and was saying to myself that there was
one fortunate person in the poverty-stricken capital, when
the door opened and Don Basilio came forth with sweeping
cassock and enormous hat. A little further, I found my-
self in a small plaza, ojie side of which was occupied by a
building resembling a fortress. Over the door I read the
inscription, " Princeps soberan del Vails de Andorra."
This was the residence of the bishop, who claims the title
of sovereign of the little republic ; his powers, in fact, being
scarcely more than nominal.
I was tempted to present myself to his Reverence, and
state my intention of visiting Andorra ; but my information
with regard to the republic was so vague that I knew not
how such a visit mighi be regarded. I might be creating
difficulty where none existed. With this prudent reflec-
tion I returned to the inn, and engaged a fresh horse and
O O
guide for the morrow, sending Juan back to Carclona. It
was but an hour's ride, the landlord said, to the frontier
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 257
The region of ill-repute lay behind me ; the difficult bridle-
roads were passed, and all evil predictions had come to
naught. By-ways are better than highways, and if an in-
telligent young American, who knows the Spanish language,
will devote a year to the by-ways of Spain, living with the
people and in their fashion, he will find that all the good
books of observation and adventure have not yet been
written.
IT
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES.
THERE are remote, forgotten corners of history as there
are of geography. When Hale*vy brought out his opera Le
Val d'Andorre, the name meant no more to the most of
those who heard it than the Valley of Rasselas to our ears.
a sound, locating a fiction. But the critic, who must
seem to know everything, opened one of his lexicons, and
discovered that Andorra was an actual valley, buried in the
heart of the Pyrenees. Furthermore, he learned, for the
first time, that its territory was an independent republic,
preserved intact since the days of Charlemagne ; that both
France and Spain, incredible as the fact may appear, have
always scrupulously respected the rights granted to its
inhabitants more than a thousand years ago. While the
existence of every other -state has in turn been menaced,
while hundreds of treaties have been made only to be
broken, here is a place where, like the castle of the Sleep-
ing Beauty, time has stood still, and History shut up her
annals.
Napoleon, when a deputation from the little republic
visited him in Paris, said : " I have heard of this Andorra,
and have purposely abstained from touching it, because I
thought it ought to be preserved as a political curiosity."
Louis Philippe, thirty years later, exclaimed : "What! is it
possible that I have a neighbor whose name I never heard
before ? " I suspect that the name of Andorra on the ex-
cellent German maps, which overlook nothing, was the
first indication of the existence of the state to many of those
who are now acquainted with it. It was so in my case.
From noting its position, and seeing its contracted bound-
aries, so carefully marked out, I went further, and picked
262 . BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
up what fragments of information could be found in French
and German geographical works. These were sufficiently
curious to inspire me with the design of visiting the valley.
On reaching Urgel, in the Spanish Pyrenees, I was
within a league of the Andorran frontier. My way thither
lay through the deep gorge out of which the river Valira
issues, on its way to the Segre. The bald, snow-streaked
summits in the north belonged to the territory of the re-
public, but whatever of life and labor it contained was
buried out of sight in their breast Nevertheless, the
vague and sometimes threatening reports of the people
which had reached me at a distance here vanished. Every-
body knew Andorra, and spoke well of it. I had some
difficulty in finding a horse, which the landlord declared
was on account of the unpractical shape and weight of my
valise ; but, when I proposed going on foot, an animal was
instantly produced. The arrieros could not let a good
bargain slip out of their hands.
It was a wonderful morning in mid June. The shadow
of the Pyrenees still lay cool upon the broad basin of
Urgel ; but the brown ramparts of Castel Ciudad on the
rocks, and all the western heights, sparkled in sunshine.
I found a nimble mouptain pony waiting for me at the door
of the inn, and Julian, my guide, a handsome fellow of
twenty, in rusty velvet jacket and breeches, and scarlet
Phrygian cap. A skin as brown as an Arab's ; an eye full
of inexpressible melancholy ; a grave, silent, but not gloomy
nature all these had Julian ; yet he was the very com-
panion for such a journey. He strode from the gate of
Urgel with a firm, elastic step, and I followed through the
gray olive orchards across the plain. The lower terraces
of the mountain were silvery with the olive ; but when
the path turned into the gorge of the Valira, the landscape
instantly changed. On one side rose a rocky wall ; on the
other, meadows of blossoming grass, divided by thickets of
aider and willow, slanted down to the rapid stream, the
THI REPUBIIC OF THE PYBENEE.1.
noise of which could scarcely be heard for the songs of the
nightingales. Features like these, simple as they may
seem, sometimes have a singular power to warm one's an-
ticipations of what lies beyond. There is a promise in
certain scenery ; wherein it exists I cannot tell, but I have
felt it frequently, and have never yet been disappointed.
After I had threaded the gorge for two miles, it expanded
into a narrow valley, where the little Spanish village of
Arcacel lay huddled among the meadows. Beyond it, the
mountains closed together again, forming an almost impas-
sable canon, along the sides of which the path was labo-
riously notched. There were a great many people abroad,
and Julian was obliged to go in advance, and select spots
where my horse could pass their mules without one or the
other being pushed into the abyss below. Some of those
I met were probably Andorrans, but I found as yet no
peculiarities of face or costume. This is the only road
from Spain into the republic, and is very rarely, if ever,
traversed by a foreign tourist. The few persons who have
visted Andorra, made their way into the valley from the
side of France.
As I rode forward, looking out from time to time, for
some mark which would indicate the frontier, I recalled
what little I had learned of the origin of the republic.
There is not much which the most patient historian could
establish as positive fact ; but the traditions of the people
and the few records which they have allowed to be pub-
lished run nearly parallel, and are probably as exact as
most of the history of the ninth century. On one point
all the accounts agree that the independence of the val-
ley sprang indirectly from the struggle between the Franks
and Saracens. When the latter possessed themselves of the
Peninsula, in the beginning of the eighth century, a rem-
nant of the Visigoths took refuge in this valley, whence,
later, they sent to Charlemagne, imploring assistance.
After Catalonia had been icconquered, the Emperor so
264 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
runs the popular tradition gave them the valley as a re-
ward for their bravery in battle. The more probable ac-
count is, that Charlemagne sent his son, Louis le Debon-
naire, who followed the last remnants of the Saracen army
up the gorge of the Valira, and defeated them on the spot
where the town of Andorra now stands. After the victory
he gave the valley to certain of his soldiers, releasing them
from all allegiance except to himself. This was in the
year 805. What is called the " Charter of Charlemagne,"
by some of the French writers, is evidently this grant of
his son.
Within the following century, however, certain difficulties
arose, which disturbed the inhabitants of the little state less
than their powerful neighbors. Charlemagne had pre-
viously given, it appears, the tithes of all the region tc
Possidonius, Bishop of Urgel, and the latter insisted on
retaining his right. Moreover, Charles the Bald, in 843,
presented to Siegfrid, Count of Urgel, the right of sove-
reignty over Andorra, which Louis le De"bonnaire had re-
served for himself and his successors. Thus the spiritual
and temporal lords of Urgel came in direct conflict, and
the question remained undecided for two centuries ; the
Andorrans, meanwhile, r quietly attending to their own af-
fairs, and consolidating the simple framework of their gov-
ernment. Finally, at the consecration of the Cathedral of
Urgel, in the year 1040, the widowed Countess Constance
publicly placed the sovereignty claimed by her house in the
hands of Bishop Heribald. (How curious it seems to find
the name of Garibaldi occurring in this obscure history !}
But this gift of Constance was not respected by her suc-
cessors, and the trouble broke out anew in the following
century. We have but a meagre chain of detached inci-
dents, yet what passion, what intrigue, what priestly thirst
of power and jealous resistance on the part of the nobles
are suggested, as we follow the scanty record ! The
Bishop of Urgel triumphs to this day, as he reads the in
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 265
scription over his palace-door : " Princeps soberan del Vails
de Andorra." ,
At the end of the twelfth century, Arnald, Count of
Castelbo, purchased certain privileges in the valley from
Ermengol, Count of Urgel. The sale was resisted by the
bishop, and a war ensued, in which the latter was defeated.
Raymond-Roger, Count of Foix, was then called to aid the
episcopal cause his promised reward being a share in
the sovereignty of Andorra, the territory of which bordered
his own. Notwithstanding he was victorious, having taken
and sacked the city of Urgel, he seems to have considered
his claim to the reward still insecure. In the year 1202
he married his son and successor, Roger-Bernard II., to
the daughter and only child of the Count of Castelbo.
Thus the Bishop of Urgel saw the assumption of sove-
reignty which he had resisted transferred to the powerful
house of Foix. It is stated, however, that, in all the wars
which followed, both parties refrained from touching the
disputed territory, in order that the value of the revenue
expected from it might not be diminished. The Andor-
rans themselves, though certainly not unconcerned, re-
mained perfectly passive. The fastnesses of the Pyrenees
on all sides of them resounded with the noise of war, while
they, one generation after another, tended their flocks and
cultivated their fields.
The quarrel (and it is almost the end of all history re-
lating to Andorra) came to a close in the year 1278.
Roger-Bernard III. of Foix, before the gates of Urgel,
which must soon have yielded to him, accepted the pro-
posal for an arbitration Don Pedro of Aragon having
offered his name as security for th? fulfillment of the terms
which might be agreed upon. Two priests and four knights
were the arbitrators ; and the Pariatges (Partitions) which
they declared on the 7th of September of the year already
mentioned settled the question of the sovereignty of An-
dorra from that day to this. Its principal features were
266 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
that a slight tribute should be paid by the people, on alter
nate years, to the Counts of Foix and the Bishops of Urgel
and that certairfofficials of the Valley should, in like man-
ner, be named alternately by the two parties. In all other
respects, the people were left free. The neutrality of theit
territory, which had been so marvelously preserved for
four centuries and a half, was reaffirmed ; and it has never
since been violated. During the wars of Napoleon, a
French army appeared on the frontiers of the republic
with the intention of marching through it into Spain ; but
on the judges and consuls representing to the commanding
general the sacred neutrality of their valley, he turned
about and chose another route.
The house of Foix became merged in that of Be"arn, and
the inheritance of the latter, in turn, passed into the hands
of the Bourbons. Thus the crown of France succeeded to
the right reserved by Louis le Debonnaire, and presented
by Charles the Bald to Siegfrid, Count of Urgel. The
Andorrans, who look upon their original charter as did
the Hebrews on their Ark of the Covenant, consider that
the Pariatges are equally sanctioned by time and the favor
of God ; and, so far from feeling that the tribute is a sign
of subjection, they consider that it really secures their in-
dependence. They therefore do not allow the revolutions,
the change of dynasties which France has undergone, to
change their relation to the governing power. They were
filled with dismay, when, in 1793, the representative of the
French Republic in Foix refused to accept the tribute, on
the ground that it was a relic of the feudal system. For
six or seven years thereafter they feared that the end of
things was at hand ; but the establishment of the Empire,
paradoxical as it may appear, secured to them their repub-
lic. They seem never to have considered that the refusal
of the French authorities gave them a valid pretext io
cease the further payment of the tribute.
This is the sum and substance of the history of Andorra
THE REPUBLIC OF 1HE PYRENEES. 267
No one can help feeling that a wholly exceptional fortune
has followed this handful of people. All other rights given
by Charlemagne and his successors became waste paper
long since the Counts of Urgel, the houses of Foix and
Beam, have disappeared, and the Bourbons have ceased to
reign in France, yet the government of the little re-
public preserves the same forms which were established in
the ninth century, and the only relations \hich at present
connect it with the outer world date from the year 1278.
I endeavored to impress these facts upon my mind, as the
gorge opened into a narrow green valley, blocked up in
front by the Andorran mountains. I recalled that pic-
turesque legend of the knight of the Middle Ages, who,
penetrating into some remote nook of the Apennines, found
a forgotten Roman city, where the people still kept their
temples and laid their offerings on the altars of the gods.
The day was exquisitely clear and sunny; the breezes of
the Pyrenees blew away every speck of vapor from the
mountains, but I saw everything softly through that veil
which the imagination weaves for us.
Presently we came upon two or three low houses. At
the door of the furthest two Spanish soldiers were standing,
one of whom stepped forward when he saw me. A picture
of delay, examination, bribery, rose in my mind. I as-
sumed a condescending politeness, saluted the man gravely,
and rode forward. To my great surprise no summons fol-
lowed. I kept on my way without looking back, and in
two minutes was out of Spain. Few travellers have ever
left the kingdom so easily.
The features of the scenery remained the same nar-
row, slanting shelves of grass and grain, the Valira foam-
ing below, and the great mountains of gray rock towering
into the sky. In another half-hour I saw the little town
of San Julian de Loria, one of the six municipalities of
Andorra. As old and brown as Urgel, or the villages
along the Rio Segre, it was in no wise to be distinguished
268 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
from them. The massive stone walls of the houses were
nearly black ; the roofs of huge leaves of slate were cov-
ered with a red rust ; and there were no signs that any-
thing had been added or taken away from the place foi
centuries. As my horse clattered over the dirty paving-
stones, mounting the one narrow, twisted street, the people
came to the doors, and looked upon me with a grave curi-
osity. I imagined at once that they were different from
the Catalans, notwithstanding they spoke the same dialect,
and wore very nearly the fame costume. The expression
of their faces was more open and fearless ; a cheerful gravity
marked their demeanor. I saw that they were both self-
reliant and contented.
While Julian stopped to greet some of his friends, I rode
into a very diminutive plaza, where some thirty or forty of
the inhabitants were gossiping together. An old man,
dressed in pale blue jacket and knee-breeches, with a red
scarf around his waist, advanced to meet me, lifting his
scarlet cap in salutation.
" This is no longer Spain ? " I asked.
" It is neither France nor Spain," said he ; " it is An-
lorra."
"The Republic of Andorra?"
" They call it so." .
" I am also a citizen of a republic," I then said ; but,
although his interest was evidently excited, he asked me no
questions. The Andorran reserve is proverbial throughout
Catalonia ; and as I had already heard of it, I voluntarily
gave as much information respecting myself as was neces-
sary. A number of men, young and old, had by this time
collected, and listened attentively. Those who spoke Span-
ish mingled in the conversation, which, on my part, was
purposely guarded. Some degree of confidence, however
seemed to be already established. They told me that they
were entirely satisfied with their form, of government
and their secluded life ; that they were poor, but much
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 269
wealth would be of no service to them, and, moreovei
(which was true), that they were free because they were
poor. When Julian appeared, he looked with surprise upon
the friendly circle around me, but said nothing. It was still
two hours to Andorra la VeU% (Old Andorra), the capital,
which I had decided to make my first resting-place ; so T
said, " Aclios ! " all the men responding, " Dios guarda ! "
Beyond the village I entered upon green meadow-land,
shaded by grand walnut-trees, mounds of the richest fo-
liage. The torrent of Avina came down through a wild
glen on the left, to join the Valira, and all the air vibrated
with the sound of waters and the incessant songs of the
nightingales. People from the high, unseen mountain
farms and pasture-grounds met me on their way to San
Julian ; and their greeting was always " God guard you ! "
hinting of the days when travel was more insecure than
now. When the mountains again contracted, and the path
clung to the sides of upright mountain walls, Julian wenc
in advance, and warned the coming muleteers. Vegetation
ceased, except the stubborn clumps of box, which had fas-
tened themselves in every crevice of the precipices ; and
the nightingales, if any had ventured into the gloomy gorge,
were silent. For an hour I followed its windings, steadily
mounting all the while ; then the rocks began to lean 'away,
the smell of flowering grass came back to the air, and I
saw, by the breadth of blue sky opening ahead, that we
were approaching the Valley of Andorra.
The first thing that met my eyes was a pretty pastoral
picture. Some rills from the melting snows had been caught
and turned into an irrigating canal, the banks of which
were so overgrown with brambles and wild-flowers that it
O
had become a natural stream. Under a gnarled, wide-
armed ilex sat a father, with his two youngest children ; twc
older ones gathered flowers in the sun ; and the mother,
with a basket in her hand, paused to look at me in the
meadow below. The little ones laughed and shouted ; the
270 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
father watched them with bright, happy eyes, and over and
around them the birds sang without fear. And this is the
land of smugglers and robbers! I thought. Turning in
the saddle, I watched the group as long as it was visible.
"When I set my face forward again, it was with a sudden
catch of the breath and a cry of delight. The promise of
the morning was fulfilled ; beautiful beyond anticipation
was the landscape expanded before me. It was a valley
six miles in length, completely walled in by immense moun-
tains, the bases of which, withdrawn in the centre, left a
level bed of meadows, nearly a mile broad, watered by the
winding Valira. Terraces of grain, golden below, but still
green above, climbed far up the slopes ; then forest and
rock succeeded ; and finally the gray pinnacles, with snow
in their crevices, stood mantled in their own shadows.
Near the centre of the valley, on a singular rocky knoll,
the old houses and square tower of Andorra were perched,
as if watching over the scene. In front, where the river
issued from a tremendous split between two interlocking
mountains, I could barely distinguish the houses of Escal-
das from the cliffs to which they clung. Nothing could be
simpler and grander than the large outlines of the scene,
nothing lovelier than its minuter features, so wonderfully
suggesting both the garden and the wilderness, the fresh
green of the North and the hoary hues and antique forms
of the South. Brimming with sunshine and steeped in
delicious odors, the valley after the long, dark gorge I
had threaded seemed to flash and sparkle with a light
unknown to other lands.
Shall I ever forget the last three miles of my journey ?
Crystal waters rushed and murmured beside my path ;
great twisted ilex-trees sprang from the masses of rock ;
mounds of snowy eglantine or purple clematis crowned the
cliffs or hung from them like folded curtains ; and the dark
shadows of walnut and poplar lay upon the lush fields of
grass and flowers. The nightingale and thrush sang or
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 271
the earth, and the lark in the air ; and even the melan
choly chant of the young farmer in his fields seemed to be
only that soft undercurrent of sadness which was needed
to make the brightness and joy of the landscape complete
Climbing the rocks to the capital, I was pleasantly sur-
prised to see the sign " Hostal " before I had made more
than two turns of the winding street. The English guides,
both for France and Spain, advise the adventurous tourist
who wishes to visit Andorra to take his provender with
him, since nothing can be had in the valley. A friendly
host came to the door, and welcomed me. Dinner, he said,
would be ready in an hour and a half; but the appearance
of the cheerful kitchen into which I was ushered so pro-
voked my already ravenous hunger that an omelette was
made instantly, and Julian and I shared it between us.
An upper room, containing a coarse but clean bed, which
barely found room for itself in a wilderness of saddles and
harness, was given to me, and I straightway found myself
at home in Andorra. So much for guide-books !
I went forth to look at the little capital before dinner.
Its population is less than one thousand ; the houses are
built of rudely broken stones of schist or granite, and
roofed with large sheets of slate. The streets seem to
have been originally located where the surface of the rock
rendered them possible ; but there are few of them, and
what the place has to show may be speedily found. I felt
at once the simple, friendly, hospitable character of the
people : they saluted me as naturally and genially as if I
had been an old acquaintance. Before I had rambled
many minutes, I found myself before the Casa del Vatts^
the House of Government. It is an ancient, cracked build-
ing, but when erected I could not ascertain. The front is
simple and massive, with three irregular windows, and a
large arched entrance. A tower at one corner threatens
O
to fall from want of repair. Over the door is the inscrip-
tion : " Domus consilii, sedes justitiae." There is also a
272 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
marble shield, containing the arms of the Republic, and
apparently inserted at a more recent date. The shield is
quartered with the mitre and crosier of the Bishop of Ur
gel, the four crimson bars of Catalonia, the three bars on
an azure field of Foix, and the cows of Be'arn. Under the
shield is sculptured the Latin verse :
" Suspice : sunt vallis neutrius stemmata ; sunt que
Regna, quibus gaudent nobiliora tegi :
Singula si populos alios, Andorra, beabunt,
Quidni juncta ferent aurea secla tibi ! "
I suspect, although I have no authority for saying so, that
this verse conies from Fiter, the only scholar Andorra ever
produced, who flourished in the beginning of the last cen-
tury. The ground-floor of the building consists of stables,
where the members of the council lodge their horses when
they meet officially. A tumbling staircase leads to the
second story, which is the council-hall, containing a table
and three chairs on a raised platform, a picture of Christ
between the windows, and oaken benches around the walls.
The great object of interest, however, is a massive chest,
built into the wall, and closed with six strong iron locks,
connected by a chain. This contains the archives of An-
dorra, including, as the people devoutly believe, the origi-
nal charters of Charlemagne and Louis le De'bonnaire.
Each consul of the six parishes is intrusted with the keep-
ing of one key, and the chest can only be opened when all
six are present. It would be quite impossible for a stran-
ger to get a sight of the contents. The archives are said
to be written on sheets of lead, on palm-leaves, on parch-
ment, or on paper, according to the age from which they
date. The chest also contains the " Politar," or Annals
of Andorra, with a digest of the laws, compiled by the
scholar Fiter. The government did not allow the work to
be published, but there is another manuscript copy in the
possession of the Bishop of Urgel.
I climbed the huge mass of rock behind the building,
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 273
and sat down upon its crest to enjoy the grand, sunny pic-
ture of the valley. The mingled beauty and majesty of
the landscape charmed me into a day-dream, in which the
old, ever-recurring question was lazily pondered, whether
or not this plain, secluded, ignorant life was the happiest
lot of man. But the influences of the place were too sweet
and soothing for earnest thought, and a clock striking noon
o & o
recalled me to the fact that a meal was ready in the hostal.
The host sat down to the table with Julian and myself, and
the spout of the big-bellied Catalonian bottle overhung our
mouths in succession. We had a rough but satisfactory
dinner, during which I told the host who I was and why I
came, thereby winning his confidence to such an extent
that he presently brought me an old, dirty Spanish pam-
phlet, saying, " You may read this."
Seeing that it was a brief and curious account of An-
dorra, I asked, " Cannot I buy this or another copy?"
" No," he answered ; " it is not to be bought. You can
read it ; but you must give it to me again."
I selected a dark corner of the kitchen, lit my cigar,
and read, making rapid notes when I was not observed.
The author was a nephew of one of the bishops of Urgel,
and professed to have seen with his own eyes the charter
of Louis le Debonnaire. That king, he stated, defeated
the Saracens on the plain towards Escaldas, where the
western branch of the Valira comes down from the Valley
of Ordino. Before the battle, a passage from the Book of
Kings came into his mind : " Endor, over against Mount
Tabor, where the children of Israel, preparing for war
against the heathen, pitched their camp " ; and after the
victory he gave the valley the name of Endor, whence An-
dorra. The resemblance, the author innocently remarks,
is indeed wonderful. In both places there are high moun-
tains ; the same kinds of trees grow (!) ; a river flows
through each ; there are lions and leopards in Endor, and
bears and wolves in Andorra ! He then gives the following
IS
274 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
quotation from the charter, which was written in Latin
" The men who actually live in this country are Licindo
Laurentio, Obaronio, Antimirio, Guirinio, Suessonio, Bar-
rulio, rustic laborers, and many others." Louis le D^bon-
naire returned to France by the present Porte de Fontar-
gente, where, on the summit of the Pyrenees, he caused
a chain to be stretched from rock to rock. The holes
drilled for the staples of the rings are still to be seen, the
people say.
When I had finished the book, I went out again, and
in the shade of a willow in the meadow below, made a
rough sketch of the town and the lofty Mont Anclar (mow
clavus) behind it. As I returned, the lower part of the
valley offered such lovely breadths of light and shade that
I sought a place among the tangle of houses and rocks to
make a second drawing. The women, with their children
around them, sat at their doors, knitting and chatting. One
cried out to another, as I took my seat on the ground,
" Why don't you bring a chair for the cavalier ? " The
chair was brought immediately, and the children gathered
around, watching my movements. The mothers kept
them in good order, every now and then crying out, " Don't
go too near, and don't stand in front ! " Among themselves
they talked freely about me ; but, as they asked no ques-
tions, I finally said, " I understand you ; if you will ask, I
will answer," whereupon they laughed and were silent.
I have already said that reserve is a marked character-
istic of the Andorrans. No doubt it sprang originally
from their consciousness of their weakness, and their fear
to lose their inherited privileges by betraying too much
about themselves. When one of them is questioned upon
a point concerning which he thinks it best to be silent, he
assumes a stupid expression of face, and appears not to
understand. That afternoon a man came to me in the inn,
produced a rich specimen of galena, and said, "Do you
know what that is ? " " Certainly," I answered -, " it is tht
THE REPUBLIC OF THE I YRENEES. 275
ore of lead. Where did you get it ? " He put it in his
pocket, looked up at the sky, and said, " What fine weather
we have ! " It is known that there is much lead in the
mountains, yet the mines have never been worked. The
people say, " We must keep poor, as our fathers have been.
If we become rich, the French will want our lead and the
Spaniards our silver, and then one or the other will rob us
of our independence."
So well is this peculiarity of the inhabitants understood,
that in Catalonia to assume ignorance is called '' to play
the Andorran." A student from the frontier, on entering
a Spanish theological seminary, was called upon to trans-
late the New Testament. When he came to the words,
" Jesus autem tacebat," he rendered them, in perfect good
faith, " Jesus played the Andorran." For the same reason,
the hospitality of the people is of a passive rather than of
an active character. The stranger may enter any house in
the valley, take his seat at the family board, and sleep
under the shelter of the roof; he is free to come and go;
no questions are asked, although voluntary information is
always gladly received. They would be scarcely human if
it were not so.
The principal features of the system of government
which these people have adopted may be easily described.
They have no written code of laws, the Politar being only
a collection of precedents in certain cases, accessible to the
consuls and judges, and to them alone. When we come to
examine the modes in which they are governed, proce-
dures which, based on long custom, have all the force of
law, we find a singular mixture of the elements of de-
mocracy, aristocracy, and monarchy. The sovereignty of
France and the Bishop of Urgel is acknowledged in the
appointment of the two viguiers (vicarii), who, it is true,
are natives of the valley, and devoted to its interests. In
all other respects the forms are democratic ; but the cir
cumstance that the officials are unpaid, that they must be
276 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
married, and that they must be members of families in
good repute, has gradually concentrated the government in
the hands of a small number of families, by whom it is
virtually inherited. Moreover, the law of primogeniture
prevails to the fullest extent, still further lessening the
number of qualified persons.
The Republic consists of six communes, or parishes, each
of which elects two consuls and two councillors, whose
term of service is four years; one official of each class
being elected every two years. There is no restriction of
the right of suffrage. The twenty-four officials form the
deliberative body, or Grand Council, who alone have the
power of electing the Syndic, the executive head of the
government. He is chosen for life ; he presides over the
Council, and carries its decisions into effect, yet is respon-
sible to it for his actions. Only half the Council being
chosen at one time, the disadvantage of having an entirely
new set of men suddenly placed in office is obviated. The
arrangement, in fact, is the same which we have adopted in
regard to the election of United States Senators.
The consuls, in addition, have their municipal duties.
Each one names ten petty magistrates, called decurions,
whose functions are not much more important than those
of our constables. They simply preserve order, and assist
in bringing offenses to light. All the persons of property,
or who exercise some useful mechanical art, form what is
called the Parish Council, whose business it is to raise the
proportionate share of the tribute, to apportion the pastures,
fix the amount of wood to be sold (part of the revenue of
Andorra being derived from the forests), and to regulate
; 1! ordinary local matters. These councils, of course, are
self-existing ; every person who is not poor and insignifi-
cant taking his place naturally in them. No one can be
chosen as consul who is under thirty years of age, who has
not been married, who is blind, deaf, deformed, or epileptic,
who is addicted to drink, or who has committed any offense
against the laws.
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 277
The functions of the parish councils and the Grand
Council of the Republic are carefully separated. The
former have charge of inns, forges, bakeries, weaving, and
the building of dwelling-houses ; the latter has control
of the forests, the ways of communication, the chase, the
fisheries, the finances, and the building of all edifices of a
public character. It has five sessions a year. Its mem-
bers are not paid, but they are lodged and fed, during these
sessions, at the public expense. Each parish owns two
double-beds in the upper story of the Casa del Vails at
Andorra ; in each bed sleep two consuls or two councillors.
There is a kitchen, with an enormous pot, in which their
frugal meals are cooked, and a dining-room in which they
are served. Formerly their sessions were held in the
church-yard, among the tombs, as if to render them more
solemnly impressive; but this practice has long been dis-
continued.
The expenses of the state, one will readily guess, must be
very slight. The tribute paid to France is nineteen hun-
dred and twenty francs ; that to the Bishop of Urgel, eight
hundred and forty-two francs an average of two hundred
and seventy-five dollars per annum. The direct tax is five
cents annually for each person ; but a moderate revenue is
derived from the sale of wood and charcoal, and the rent
of pastures on the northern slope of the Pyrenees. Im-
port, export, and excise duties, licenses, and stamps are
unknown, although, in civil cases, certain moderate fees are
established. The right of tithes, given by Charlemagne to
Possidonius, remains in force ; but they are generally paid
in kind ; and in return the Bishop of Urgel, who appoints
the priests, contributes to their support. The vicars, of
whom there is one to each parish, are paid by the govern-
ment. The inhabitants are, without exception, devout Cath-
olics, yet it is probably ancient custom, rather than the
influence of the priests, which makes them indifferent to
education. The schools are so few that they hardly de
2T BY-^AYS OF EUfcOt>E.
serve to be mentioned. Only one man in a hundred, and
one woman in five hundred can read and write.
The two viguiers, one of whom is named by France and
the other by the Bishop of Urgel, exercise the functions of
judges. They are the representatives of the two sovereign
powers, and their office is therefore surrounded with every
mark of respect. Although nominally of equal authority
their activity is in reality very unequally divided. Usually
some prominent official of the Department de PArie'ge is
named on the part of France, and contents himself with an
annual visit to the valley. The Bishop, on the other hand,
always names a native Andorran, who resides among the
people, and performs the duties of both viguiers. When a
new viguier is appointed, he must be solemnly installed at
the capital. The members of the Grand Council then ap-
pear in their official costume a long surtout of black
cloth, with crimson facings, a red shawl around the waist,
gray knee-breeches, sky-blue stockings, and shoes with
silver buckles. The Syndic of the Republic wears a crim-
son mantle ; but the viguier is dressed in black, with a
sword, cocked hat, and gold-headed staff. As the tribute
paid to France is much larger than that paid to the Bishop,
the people have voluntarily added to the latter a Christmas
offering of the twelve best h'ams, the twelve richest cheeses,
and the twelve fattest capons to be found in the six par-
ishes.
The sovereign powers have two other representatives in
addition to the viguiers. These are the batlles (bailes,
bailiffs ?) who are chosen from a list of six persons selected
by the Grand Council. Their principal duty is to hear
and decide, in the first instance, all civil and criminal cases,
except those which the government specially reserves for
its own judgment. The batlles, however, are called upon
to prevent, rather than solve litigation. When a case oc-
curs, they first endeavor to reconcile the partie's, or substt
tute a private arbitration. If that fails- the case is con
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 279
ridered ; and, after the help of God is solemnly invoked,
judgment is pronounced. Where the dispute involves a
delicate or doubtful point, the batlle consults separatelj
the three men of best character and most familiar with the
laws who are to be found in the parish, and decides as the
judgment of two of them may coincide. It rarely happens
that any serious lawsuit occurs, or that any capital crime is
committed. The morals of the people are guarded with
equal care ; any slip from chastity is quietly looked after
by the priests and officials, and the parties, if possible,
legally united.
The more important cases, or appeals from the decision
of the batlles, come before the Supreme Tribunal of Jus-
tice, which is composed of the two viguiers, a judge of ap-
peal (chosen to give the casting vote when there is a dif-
ference of opinion between the viguiers), a government
prosecutor, and two rahonadors (pleaders) chosen for the
defense by the Grand Council. This tribunal has the
power to pronounce a capital sentence, which is then car-
ried out by an executioner brought either from France or
Spain.
The army, if it may be called such, consists of six hun-
dred men, or one from each family. They are divided into
six companies, according to the parishes, with a captain for
each ; the decurions acting as subaltern officers. The only
special duty imposed upon them, beyond the occasional
escort and guard of prisoners, is an annual review by the
viguiers and the Grand Council, which takes place on the
meadow below Andorra. The officials are seated in state
around a large table, upon which a muster-roll of the army
is laid. When the first name is read, the soldier to whom
it belongs steps forward, discharges his musket in the air,
then advances to the table and exhibits his ammunition,
which must consist of a pound of powder, twenty-four balls,
and as many caps. Each man is called in turn, until the
whole six hundred have been thus reviewed.
280 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
Such is an outline of the mode of government and the
forms of judicial procedure in this little republic. I have
not thought it necessary to add the more minute details
which grow naturally out of the peculiarities already de-
scribed. Two things will strike the reader : first, the suffi-
ciency of the system, quaint and singular as it may be in
some respects, to the needs of the people ; secondly, the
skill with which they have reconciled the conditions im-
posed upon them by the Pariatges, in 1278, with the struc-
ture of government they had already erected. For a people
so ignorant, so remote from the movement of the world,
and so precariously situated, their course has been directed
by a rare wisdom. No people value independence more ;
they have held it, with fear and trembling, as a precious
gift ; and for a thousand years they have taken no single
step which did not tend to secure them in its possession.
According to the host's volume, the population of the
towns is as follows : Andorra, 850 inhabitants ; San Julian
de Loria, 620 ; Encamp, 520 ; Canillo, 630 ; Ordino, 750 ;
and Massana, 700. The population of the smaller hamlets,
and the scattered houses of the farmers and herdsmen, will
probably amount to about as many more, which would give
eight thousand persons as the entire population of the state.
I believe this estimate to be very nearly correct. It is a
singular circumstance, that the number has not materially
changed for centuries. Emigration from the valley has
been rare until recent times ; the climate is healthy ; the
people an active, vigorous race ; and there must be some
unusual cause for this lack of increase. A young man, a
native of the parish of Ordino, with whom I had a long
conversation in the evening, gave me some information
upon this point. The life of families in Andorra is still
regulated on the old patriarchal plan. The landed prop-
erty descends to the oldest son or daughter, or, in default
of direct issue, to the nearest relative. This, indeed, is not
the law,' which gives only a third to the chief inheritor, and
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 281
divides the remainder equally among the other members
of the family. But it has become a custom stronger than
law a custom which is now never violated to preserve
the old possessions intact. The caps, or heads of families,
are held in such high estimation, that all other family and
even personal rights are subordinate to theirs. They are
rich and respected, while the younger brothers and sisters,
who, by this arrangement, may be left too poor to marry,
cheerfully accept a life of celibacy. " I am a younger son,"
said my informant ; " but I have been able to marry, be-
cause I went down into Catalonia, entered into business,
and made some money." When a daughter inherits, she
is required to marry the nearest relative permitted by
canonical law, who takes her family name and perpetuates
it
In the course of centuries, however, the principal fami-
lies have become so inter-related that their interests fre-
quently require marriages within the prohibited degrees.
In this case the Andorran undertakes a journey to Rome,
to procure a special dispensation from the Pope. He is
generally the representative of other parties, similarly sit-
uated, who assist in defraying the expenses of the journey.
After a collective dispensation has been issued, all the
marriages must be celebrated by proxy the Andorran
and a Roman woman who is paid for the service represent-
ing, in turn, each bridal pair at home. The latter must
afterwards perform public penance in church, kneeling
apart from the other worshippers, with lighted tapers in
their hands and ashes upon their heads.
Owing to the strictness of these domestic laws, the re-
markable habit of self-control among the people, and the
careful guard over their morals exercised by the officials,
they have become naturally virtuous, and hence great free-
dom of social intercourse is permitted among the sexes.
Their sports and pleasures are characterized by a pastoral
implicity and temperance. Excesses are very rare because
282 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
all ages and classes of both sexes meet together, and the
presence of the priests and caps grossos (chief men) acts
as a check upon the young men. At the festival of some
patron saint of the valley, mass in the chapel is followed
by a festive meal in the open air, after which the priest
himself gives the signal for the dances to commence. The
lads and lasses then assemble on a smooth piece of turf,
where the sounds of bagpipe and tambourine set their feet
in motion. The old people are not always gossiping spec-
tators, speculating on the couples that move before them
in the rude, wild dances of the mountains ; they often enter
the lists, and hold their ground with the youngest.
Thus, in spite of acquired reserve and predetermined
poverty, the life of the Andorrans has its poetical side.
The republic has produced one historian (perhaps I should
say compiler), but no author ; and only Love, the source
and soul of Art, keeps alive a habit of improvisation in the
young which they appear to lose as they grow older. Dur-
ing Carnival, a number of young men in the villages as-
semble under the balcony of some chosen girl, and praise,
in turn, in words improvised to a familiar melody, her
charms of person and of character. When this trial of the
Minnesingers begins to lag, for want of words or ideas, the
girl makes her appearance on the balcony, and with a cord
lets down to her admirers a basket containing cakes of
her own baking, bottles of wine, and sausages. Before
Easter, the unmarried people make bets, which are won by
whoever, on Easter morning, can first catch the other and
cry out, " It is Easter, the eggs are mine ! " Tricks, false-
hoods, and deceptions of all kinds are permitted : the young
man may even surprise the maiden in bed, if he can suc-
ceed in doing so. Afterwards they all assemble in public,
relate their tricks, eat their Easter eggs, and finish the day
with songs and dances.
Two ruling ideas have governed the Andorrans for cen-
turies past, and seem to have existed independent of anj
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYBENEES. 288
special tradition. One is, that they must not become rich {
the other, that no feature of their government must be
changed. The former condition is certainly the more diffi-
cult of fulfillment, since they have had frequent opportu-
nities of increasing their wealth. There is one family which,
on account of the land that has fallen to it by inheritance,
would be considered rich in any country; half a dozen
others possessing from twenty to thirty thousand dollars ;
and a large number who are in comfortable circumstances
simply because their needs are so few. I had heard that a
party opposed to the old traditional ideas was growing up
among the young men, but it was not so easy to obtain
information on the subject. When I asked the gentleman
from Ordino about it, he " acted the Andorran," put on
an expression of face almost idiotic, and talked of something
else. He and two others with whom I conversed during the
evening admitted, however, that a recent concession of the
government (of which I shall presently speak) was the
entering wedge by which change would probably come
upon the hitherto changeless republic.
With the exception of this incommunicativeness, in
itself rather- an interesting feature no people could have
been more kind and friendly. When I went to bed among
the saddles and harness in the little room, I no longer felt
that I was a stranger in the place. All that I had heard of
O *
the hoispitality of the people seemed to be verified by their
demeanor. I remembered how faithfully they had asserted
the neutrality of their territory in behalf of political exile?;
from France and Spain. General Cabrera, Armand Carrel,
and Ferdinand Flocon have at different times found a ref-
uge among them. Although the government reserves the
right to prohibit residence to any person whose presence
may threaten the peace of the valley, I have not heard that
the right was ever exercised. Andorra has been an ark of
safety to strangers, as well as an inviolate home of freedom
to its own inhabitants.
284 BY-WAYS OF EUBOPE.
Julian called me at four o'clock, to resume our journej
up the valley, and the host made a cup of chocolate while
my horse was being saddled. Then I rode forth into the
clear, cold air, which the sun of the Pyrenees had not yet
warmed. The town is between three and four thousand
feet above the sea, and the limit of the olive tree is found
in one of its sheltered gardens. As I issued from the
houses, and took a rugged path along the base of Mont
Anclar, the village of Escaldas and the great gorge in front
lay in a cold, broad mantle of shadow, while the valley was
filled to its topmost brims with splendid sunshine. I looked
between the stems of giant ilexes upon the battle-field of
Louis le De*bonnaire. Then came a yawning chasm, down
which foamed the western branch of the Valira, coming
from an upper valley in which lie the parishes of Ordino
and Massana. The two valleys thus form a Y, giving the
territory of Andorra a rough triangular shape, about forty
miles in length its base, some thirty miles in breadth,
overlapping the Pyrenees, and its point nearly touching the
Rio Segre, at Urgel.
A bridge of a single arch spanned the chasm, the bottom
of which was filled with tumbling foam; while every ledge
of rock, above and below, was draped with eglantine, wild
fig, clematis, and ivy. Thence, onward towards Escaldasi
my path lay between huge masses which had fallen from
the steeps, and bowers completely snowed over with white
roses, wherein the nightingales were just beginning to
awaken. Then, one by one, the brown houses above me
clung like nests to the rocks, with little gardens hanging on
seemingly inaccessible shelves. I entered the enfolding
shadows, and, following the roar of waters, soon found my-
self at Escaldas a place as wonderfully picturesque as
Ronda or Tivoli, directly under the tremendous perpen-
dicular walls of the gorge ; the arrowy Valira sweeping the
foundations of the houses on one side, while the dark
masses of rook crowded against and separated them on the
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 28fi
other. From the edge of the river, and between the thick
foliage of ilex and box behind the houses, rose thin columns
of steam, marking the hot springs whence the place (ayua*
caldas} was named.
Crossing the river. I halted at the first of these springs,
and took a drink. Some old people who collected informed
me that there were ten in all, besides a number of cold
mineral fountains, furnishing nine different kinds of water
all of which, they said, possessed wonderful healing prop-
erties. There were both iron and sulphur in that which I
tasted. A little further, a rude fulling-mill was at work in
the open air ; and in a forge on the other side of the road
three blacksmiths were working the native iron of the
mountains. A second and third hot spring followed ; then
a fourth, in which a number of women were washing clothes.
All this in the midst of a chaos of rock, water, and foliage.
These springs of Escaldas have led to the concession
which the Andorrans described to me as opening a new,
and, I fear, not very fortunate, phase of their history. The
exploiters of the gambling interest of France, on the point
of being driven from Wiesbaden, Homburg. and Baden-
Baden, ransacked Europe for a point where they might at
the same time ply their business and attract the fashionable
world. They detected Andorra; and by the most consum-
mate diplomacy they have succeeded in allaying the sus-
picions of the government, in neutralizing the power of its
ancient policy, and in acquiring privileges which, harmless
as they seem, may in time wholly subvert the old order of
things. It is impossible that this result could have been
accomplished unless a party of progress, the existence of
which has been hinted, has really grown up among tne
people. The French speculators, I am told, undertake to
build a carriage-road across the Pyrenees ; to erect bathing-
establishments and hotels on a magnificent scale at Escal-
das, and to conduct the latter, under the direction of the
%uthorities of Andorra, for a period of forty years, at the
286 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
end of which time the latter shall be placed in possession
of the roads, buildings, and all other improvements. The
expense of the undertaking is estimated at ten millions of
francs. A theatre and a bank (faro?) are among the.
features of the speculation. Meanwhile, until the carriage-
road shall be built, temporary hotels and gaming-houses
are to be erected in the valley of the Ariege, on the French
side of the Pyrenees, but within the territory belonging to
Andorra.
I do not consider it as by any means certain that the plan
will be carried out ; but if it should be, the first step towards
the annexation of Andorra to France will have been taken.
In any case, I am glad to have visited the republic while it
is yet shut from the world.
Behind Escaldas an affluent of the Valira dashed down
the mountain on the right, breaking the rich masses of
foliage with silver gleams. I halted on the summit of the
first rocky rampart, and turned to take a last view of the
valley. What a picture ! I stood in the deep shadow of
the mountains, in the heart of a wilderness of rocks which
towered out of evergreen verdure, and seemed to vibrate
amidst the rush, the foam, and the thunder of streams.
The houses of the village, clinging to and climbing the
sides of the opening pas's, made a dark frame, through
which the green and gold of the splendid valley, drowned
in sunshine, became, by the force of contrast, limpid and
luminous as a picture of the air. The rocks and houses of
Old Andorra and the tower of the House of Government
made the central point of the view ; dazzling meadows
below and mountain terraces above basked in the faint
prismatic lustre of the morning air. High up, in the rear
of the crowning cliffs, I caught glimpses of Alpine pastures ;
and on the right, far away, streaks of snow. It was a vision
never to be forgotten : it was one of the few perfect land-
scapes of the world.
As the path rose in rapid zigzags beside the split through
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 287
which the river pours, I came upon another busy village.
In an open space among the rocks there were at least a
/undred bee-hives, formed of segments of the hollowed
crunks of trees. They stood in rows, eight or ten feet
apart ; and the swarms that continually came and went
seemed to have their separate paths marked out in the air.
They moved softly and swiftly through each other without
entanglement. After passing the gateway of the Valira,
the path still mounted, and finally crept along the side of a
deep trough, curving eastward. There were fields on both
slopes, wherever it was possible to create them. Here I
encountered a body of road-makers, whom the French
speculators had set to work. They were engaged in widen-
ing the bridle-path, so that carts might pass to Escaldas
from the upper valleys of Encamp and Canillo. The rock
was blasted on the upper side ; while, on the lower, work-
men were basing the walls on projecting points of the preci-
pice. In some places they hung over deep gulfs, adjusting
the great masses of stone with equal skill and coolness.
In an hour the gorge opened upon the Valley of Encamp,
which is smaller, but quite as wild and grand in its features
as that of Andorra. Here the fields of rye and barley were
only beginning to grow yellow, the flowers were those of an
earlier season, and the ilex and box alone remained of the
southern trees and shrubs. Great thickets of the latter
fringed the crags. A high rock on the left served as a
pedestal for a church, with a tall, square belfry, which
leaned so much from the perpendicular that it was not
pleasant to ride under it. The village of Encamp occupied
a position similar to that of Escaldas, at the farther end of
the valley, and in the opening of another gorge, the sides of
which are so closely interfolded that the river appears to
ksue out of the very heart of the mountain. It is a queer,
dirty, mouldy old place. Even the immemorial rocks of
the Pyrenees look new and fresh beside the dark rust of
its walls. The people had mostly gone away to their fields
288 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
and pastures; only a few old men and women, and th
youngest children, sunned themselves at the doors. The
main street had been paved once, but the stones were now
displaced, leaving pits of mud and filth. In one place the
houses were built over it, forming dark, badly smelling
arches, under which I was forced to ride.
The path beyond was terribly rough and difficult, climb-
ing the precipices with many windings, until it reached a
narrow ledge far above the bed of the gorge. There were
frequent shrines along the way, at the most dangerous
points ; and Julian, who walked ahead, always lifted his
cap and muttered a prayer as he passed them. After three
or four miles of such travel, I reached the church of
Merichel, on an artificial platform, cut out of the almost
perpendicular side of the mountain. This is the shrine of
most repute in Andorra, and the goal of many a summer
pilgrimage. Here the mass, the rustic banquet, and the
dance draw old and young together from all parts of the
republic.
I climbed another height, following the eastern curve of
the gorge, and finally saw the village of Canillo, the capital
of one of the six parishes, lying below me, in the lap of
a third valley. It had a brighter and fresher air than En-
camp ; the houses were larger and cleaner, and there were
garden-plots about them. In this valley the grain was quite
green ; the ilex had disappeared, making way for the pop-
lar and willow, but the stubborn box still held its ground.
In every bush on the banks of Valira sat a nightingale ;
the little brown bird sings most lustily where the noise of
water accompanies his song. I never saw him so fearless ;
I could have touched many of the minstrels with my hand
as I passed.
At Canillo I crossed the Valira, and thenceforward the
path followed its western bank. This valley was closed,
like all the others, by a pass cloven through the mountains.
Upon one of the natural bastions guarding it there is an
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 289
ancient tower which the people say was built by the Sara-
cens before the Frank conquest. The passage of the gorge
which followed was less rugged than the preceding ones,
an indication of -my approach to the summit of the Pyre-
nees. In following the Rio Segre and the Valira, I had
traversed eight of those tremendous defiles, varying fron>
one to six miles in length ; and the heart of the mountain
region, where the signs of force and convulsion always
diminish, was now attained. One picture on the way was
so lovely that I stopped and drew it. In the centre of the
valley, on a solitary rock, stood an ancient church and
tower, golden-brown in the sun. On the right were moun-
tains clothed with forests of pine and fir ; in the distance,
fields of snow. All the cleared slopes were crimson with
the Alpine-rose, a dwarf variety of rhododendron. Per-
fect sunshine covered the scene, and the purest of breezes
blew over it. Here and there a grain-field clung to the
crags, or found a place among their tumbled fragments, but
no living being was to be seen.
The landscapes were now wholly northern, except the
sun and sky. Aspens appeared on the heights, shivering
among the steady pines. After a time I came to a point
where there were two valleys, two streams, and two paths.
Julian took the left, piloting me over grassy meadows,
where the perfume from beds of daffodil was almost too
powerful to breathe. On one side, all the mountain was
golden with broom-flowers ; on the other, a mass of fiery
crimson, from the Alpine-rose. The valley was dotted
with scattered cottages of the herdsmen, as in Switzerland.
In front there were two snowy peaks, with a " saddle " be-
tween evidently one of the portes of the Pyrenees ; yet
I saw no indications of the hamlet of Soldeu, which we
must pass. Julian shouted to a herdsman, who told us we
had taken the ^frong valley. The porte before us was that
of Fontar<rente. across which Louis le De"bonnaire stretched
O
his chain on leaving Andorra.
19
290 BY-WAYS OF EURCl'K.
We retraced our steps, and in half an hour reached Sol
deu, in a high, bleak pasture-valley, where cultivation
ceases. It is at least six thousand feet above the sea, and
the vegetation is that of the high Alps. ' We were nearly
famished, and, as there was no sign of a "hostal," entered
the first house. The occupant, a woman, offered to give
us what she had, but said that there was another family
who made a business of entertaining travellers, and we
would there be better served. We found the house, and
truly, after waiting an hour, were refreshed by a surprising
dinner of five courses. There was another guest in the
person of a French butcher from the little town of Hos-
pitalet, in the valley of the Arie*ge. It was so cold that we
all crowded about the kitchen fire. Two Andorrans came
in, and sat down to the tabte with us. I have dined at
stately entertainments where there was less grace and re-
finement among the company than the butcher and the
two peasants exhibited. There was a dessert of roasted
almonds and coffee (with a chasse) ; and after the meal we
found the temperature of the air very mild and balmy.
Hospitalet being also my destination, I accepted the
butcher's company, and at one o'clock we set forth for the
passage of the Pyrenees. On leaving Soldeu I saw the
last willow, in which sat and sang the last nightingale.
The path rose rapidly along the steep slopes of grass, with
an amphitheatre of the highest summits around us. The
forests sank out of sight in the glens ; snow-fields multi-
plied far and near, sparkling in the thin air, and the scenery
assumed a bleak, monotonous grandeur. I traced the Va
lira, now a mere thread, to its source in seven icy lakes*
fed by the snow : in those lakes, said the butcher, arc the
finest trout of the Pyrenees. The Porte de Vcdira was
immediately above us, on the left ; a last hard pull up the
steep, between beds of snow, and we stood* on the summit.
The elevation of the pass is nearly eight thousand feet
above the sea. On either hand you descry nothing but the
THE REP-JBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 291
irregular lines of the French and Spanish Pyrenees, rising
and falling in receding planes of distance. Rocks, grass,
and snow make up the scenery, which, nevertheless, im-
presses by its very simplicity and severity.
The descent into France is toilsome, tut not dangerous
A mile or two below the crest we saw the fountain of the
Ariege, at the base of a grand escarpment of rock. Thence
for two hours we followed the descending trough of the
river through bleak, grassy solitudes, uncheered by a single
tree, or any sign of human life except the well-worn path.
Finally the cottage of a grazing-farm came into view, but
it was tenantless all the inhabitants having been over-
whelmed by an avalanche three years ago. Then I dis-
covered signs of a road high up on the opposite mountain,
saw workmen scattered along it, and heard a volley of ex-
plosions. This was the new highway to Porte St. Louis and
Puigcerda. On a green meadow beside the river walked
two gentlemen and two ladies in round hats and scarlet
petticoats
"They are picking out a spot to build their gaming-
houses upon," said the butcher ; " this is still Andorra."
A mile further there was a little bridge fhe Pont de
Cerda. A hut, serving as a guard-house, leaned against
the rocks, but the gens (Parmes were asleep or absent, and
I rode unquestioned into France. It was already sunset
in the valley, and the houses of Hospitalet, glimmering
through the shadows, were a welcome sight. Here was the
beginning of highways and mail-coaches, the movement of
the living world again. I supped and slept (not very com-
fortably, I must confess) in the house of my friend the
butcher, said good-by to Julian in the morning, and by
noon was resting from my many fatigues in the best inn of
Foix.
But henceforth the Valley of Andorra will be one of mj
enthusiasms.
THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE.
ON my way from the Pyrenees to Germany, I tinned
aside from the Rhone highway of travel to make acquaint-
ance with a place of which everybody has heard, yet which
seems to have been partly dropped from the rapid itinera-
ries which have come into fashion with railways. This is
the celebrated monastery called the " Grande Chartreuse,"
situated in an Alpine wilderness known as the " Desert,"
on the borders of Savoy. During the last century, when
Gray and Horace Walpole penetrated into those solitudes,
it was a well-known point of interest in the " grand tour ; "
but it seems to have been neglected during and since the
great upheaval of the French Revolution and the Napo-
leonic Empire. The name, however, is kept alive on
the tongues of gourmands by a certain greenish, pungent,
perfumed liquor, which comes upon their tables at the end
of dinner.
The traveller from Lyons to Marseilles passes within a
six-hours' journey of the Grande Chartreuse. If he leave
the train at Valence, the branch road to Grenoble will
take him up the Valley of the Isere, and he will soon ex
change the rocky vine-slopes of the Rhone for Alpine
scenery on a scale hardly surpassed in Switzerland. This
was the route which I took, on my way northward. The
valley of the Isere, at first broad, and showing on its flat,
stony fields traces of frequent inundations, gradually con-
tracted ; the cultivation of silk gave place to that of grain
and vines, and the meadows of deep grass, studded with
luge walnut-trees, reproduced, but on a warmer and richer
scale, the character of Swiss scenery. Night came on
before I reached the Vale of Gresivaudan, which is consid-
296 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
ered the paradise of Dauphine", and when the jrain halted
at the station of Voreppe, it was pitch-dark under a gather-
ing rain. There was a rustic omnibus in waiting, into
which I crowded with a priest and two farmers, all of whom
recommended the " Petit Paris " as the best inn, and
thither, accordingly, I went when we reached the village.
It was a primitive, but picturesque and inviting place.
I was ushered into a spacious kitchen, with a paved floor
and a huge stone range standing in the centre. The lana-
lady stood before her pans and gave the finishing touch to
some cutlets while she received my orders and those of the
priest The latter, when he came into the light, proved to
be a young man, pale, thin, and melancholy, with a worn
breviary under his arm. He asked to have a bed imme-
diately. In an adjoining room, a company of peasants were
drinking cider and thin wine, and discussing crops around
a deal' table. I listened awhile, but finding it impossible
to understand their dialect, followed the example of the
priest. The landlady gave me a clean bed in a clean room,
and I speedily slept in spite of rain and thunder.
I had barely taken coffee in the morning before an om-
nibus drove up, on its way to St. Laurent du Pont, a, vil-
lage at the mouth of the^ ravine which descends from the
Grande Chartreuse. There was a place inside, between
two sharp-featured women and opposite another priest, who
was middle-aged and wore an air of cheerful resignation.
This place I occupied, and was presently climbing the
long mountain road, with a glorious picture of the Vale
of Gre*sivaudan deepening and widening below. Half-
way up the mountains beyond the Isere floated shining
belts of cloud, the shadows of which mottled the sunlit
fields and gardens. Above us, huge walls of perpendicular
rock, crowned with forests, shut out the morning sky, bu*
the glens plunging down from their bases were filled with
the most splendid vegetation. Our way upward was
through the shadows of immense walnut-trees, beside the
THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE. 297
rushing of crystal brooks, and in the perfume of blossom
ing grass and millions of meadow flowers. It seemed
incredible that we should be approaching H " Desert "
through such scenery.
My fellow-travellers were inclined to be social. We lost
the women at the first little hamlet above Voreppe, and
there only remained the priest and a stout, swaggering
person, who had the appearance and manners of a govern-
ment contractor. The former told us that he had a parish
on the high, windy table-lands of Champagne, and had
never before seen such wonderful mountain landscapes.
He was now on his way to Rome one of the army of
six thousand " migratory ravens " (as the Italians called
them), who took part in the Festival of St. Peter. He was
cheerful and tolerant, with more heart than intellect, and
we got on very agreeably. The contractor informed us
that the monks of the Chartreuse had an income of a mil-
lion francs a year, a part of which they spend in building
churches and schools. They have recently built a new
church for the village of St. Laurent du Pont.
In an hour or more we had reached the highest point of
the road, which now ran eastward along the base of a line
of tremendous mountains. On the topmost heights, above
the gray ramparts of rock, there were patches of a bright
rosy color, which I at first took to be the Alpine rhododen-
dron in blossom, but they proved to be forests of beech,
which the recent severe frosts had scorched. The streams
from the heights dropped into gulfs yawning at the base
of the mountains, making cataracts of several hundred
feet. Here the grain, already harvested in the valley of
the Rhone, was still green, and the first crop of hay uncut.
St. Laurent du Pont is a little village directly in the
mouth of the gorge. The omnibus drew up before the
cafe", and my clerical friend got into a light basket wagon
for the journey to the monastery, two leagues distant, I
preferred to climb the gorge leisurely, on foot, and set
296 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE.
about engaging a man as companion rather than gride
The sky was full of suspicious clouds, there were mutter-
ings of thunder in the mountains, and the sun stung with
an insupportable power ; but after breakfast I set out with
a middle-aged man, who had an eye to profit, followed the
stream for a mile, and found myself in the heart of a ter-
rific wilderness of rock and forest. In front the mountains
closed, and only a thin line of shadow revealed the split
through which we must pass. Before reaching it, there is
an ancient forge on the left, and a massive building on the
right, which the monks have recently erected for the man-
ufacture of the liqueur which bears the name of their mon-
astery.
Just beyond the forge are the remains of an ancient gate,
which once closed the further passage. The road is hewn
out of the solid rock, and the sides of the cleft are so near
together that the masonry supporting the road is held firm
by timbers crossing the abyss and morticed into the op-
posite rock. Formerly there was only a narrow and dan-
gerous mule-path, and the passage must have had an exhil-
arating character of danger which the present security of
the road destroys. It was so in Gray's time, inspiring him
with these almost Horatian lines :
" Per invias rapes, fera per j uga,
Clivosque praruptos, sonantes
Inter aquas, nemorumque noctem."
This closed throat of the mountains is short : it soon ex-
pands a little, allowing the splendid deciduous forests to
descend to the water's brink. But above, on all sides, the
rocks start out in sheer walls and towers, and only a nar-
row strip of sky is visible between their crests. After a
mile of this scenery I reached a saw-mill, beside which
there was some very fine timber. Still another mile, and
the road was carried across the defile by a lofty stone
bridge of a single arch. " This is the bridge of San
THE GRANDE CHABTEEUSE. 299
Bruno," said the guide, " and we are now just half-way to
the monastery." In spite of the shadows of the forests, the
Air was almost stifling in its still heat, and I sat down on
the parapet of the bridge to take breath. This was the
" Desert," whither the Bishop of Grenoble directed San
Bruno to fly from the temptations of the world. At that
time it could have been accessible only with great labor
and danger, and was much more secluded than the caves
of the Thebaid. But the word conveys no idea of the
character of the scenery. For the whole distance it is a
deep cleft in the heart of lofty mountains, overhung with
precipices a thousand feet high, yet clothed, wherever a
root can take hold, by splendid forests. Ferns and wild
flowers hang from every ledge, and the trees are full of
singing birds.
Still climbing, we mounted high above the stream, and
in twenty minutes reached a natural gateway, formed by a
solitary pillar of rock, three hundred feet high, and not
more than forty feet in diameter. Here, six weeks before,
a wagon with six young peasants went over the brink, and
fell into the terrible abyss. The driver, whose carelessness
occasioned the accident, leaped from the wagon ; the other
five went down, and were dashed to pieces. Between the
aiguille (needle), as it is called, and the mountain-wall,
there was formerly a gate, beyond which no woman was
allowed to pass. The sex is now permitted to visit the
monastery, but not to enter its gates. This part of the
road is almost equal to the famous Via Mala. A series of
tunnels have been cut through the sheer, projecting crags,
the intervening portions of the road being built up with
great labor from below. One hangs in mid-air over the
dark chasm, where the foam of the rushing waters shines
like a phosphoric light.
Finally, the slope of the mountains becomes less abrupt,
the shattered summits lean back, and the glen grows
brighter under a broader field of sky. On the right the
800 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE.
forests are interrupted by pasture grounds ; the road is now
safe, though very steep, and the buildings of the monastery
presently come into view, a mass of quadrangular piles of
masonry, towers, and pyramidal roofs, inclosed by a higb
wall which must be considerably more than a mile in cit-
cuit. The place, in fact, resembles a fortified city. The
gateway was closed on the side by which I approached^ but
an old monk, with shaven head and flowing beard, who was
driving an ox-cart (the first time I ever saw one of his
class so usefully employed), directed me to go around to
the eastern front. An isolated house, shaded by a group
of old linden-trees, is set apart for the use of the female
visitors, who are attended by an old woman, usually a sister
of some conventual order.
My guide rang the bell at the entrance, and the door
was immediately opened by a young monk in a long, brown
gown. " Can I be admitted ? " I asked. " Yes," said he
in a whisper, " the guide will take you to the father who
receives strangers." I was conducted across a grassy
court-yard, in which there were two large stone fountains,
to the main building. Several brethren in brown were
passing swiftly to and fro in the cool, spacious corridors,
but they took no notice of me. I found the father in a
comfortable chamber, hung with maps. He was a bright,
nimble man of sixty, with shaven head and face ; but for
his keen eyes, he would not have seemed more than half
alive, his complexion and his shroud-like gown being
nearly the same color. I told him who I was, why I came,
and asked permission to stay until the next day. " Cer-
tainly," he whispered, " as long as you please. I will show
you into the refectory, and order that you have a room."
I was somewhat unwell, and the heat and fatigue had
made me weak, which the father piobably noticed, for on
reaching the refectory a great, bare apartment, with an
old-fashioned chimney-place for burning logs he said :
"You must have a glass of our liqueur, the green kind,
THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE. 301
which is the strongest." It was like an aromatic flame,
but it really gave me a different view of life, in the space
of fifteen minutes. The garfon was a sturdy fellow in a
blue blouse, evidently a peasant hired for the season. His
services were confined to the refectory. Another brother
in brown, with a mild, ignorant countenance, conducted me
to an upper chamber, or rather cell, containing a bed, a
table, a chair, and bowl of water, with a large private altar
and prie-dieu. Having taken possession and put the key
in my pocket, I returned to the refectory, where the white
father begged me to make myself at home, and likewise
vanished. There are fixed hours when strangers are con-
ducted through the buildings, and, as I had still some time
to wait, I went forth from the monastery and set to work
at a sketch of the place.
The monks of the Chartreuse now belong to the order
of La Trappe. San Bruno first came hither in the year
1084, and the foundation of the monastery dates from 1137.
The Trappist, or silent system, arose in the sixteenth cen-
tury, but 1 am ignorant of the date when it was here in-
troduced. It is probably the severest and most unnatural
of all forms of monastic discipline. Isolation is cruel
enough in itself, without the obligation of silence. The
use of monasteries, as conservatories of learning, as sanc-
tuaries of peace in the midst of normal war, has long since
ceased : they are now an anachronism and they will soon
become an offense. The grand pile of buildings before me
was ravaged during the French Revolution, and the monks
turned adrift. Although the government still keeps its
hold on the greater part of the property then sequestrated.
it has favored the monastery in every other possible way.
France swarms with black robes, as it has not before for a
hundred years. The Empress Eugenie is a petted daughter
of the Church of Rome, and the willing instrument of its
plans, so far as her influence extends. The monks of La
Chartreuse, however, to judge from what I saw of theii
302 BY-WATS OF EUROPE.
industry and business talent, are far less objectionable than
those of their brethren who are not bound to solitude and
silence.
At the appointed hour I was again admitted with a whis
per, and joined three dark priests (also on their way tc
Rome) for a tour of the interior. The mild brother in
brown was our guide. After calling our attention to a
notice which requested that all visitors to the monastery
would neither stand still nor speak above their breath, he
unlocked a gate and ushered us into the inner corridors.
We walked down the dim echoing vaults of solid masonry
and paused at a door, through which came the sound
of a sepulchral chant. It was the church, wherein two
ancient fathers were solemnly intoning a service which
seemed like a miserere. The brother conducted us to an
upper gallery, dipped his fingers into the font, and pre-
sented the holy water to me with a friendly smile. I am
afraid he was cut to the heart when I shook my head, say-
ing : ' Thank you, I don't need it." There was an ex-
pression of stupefaction in his large, innocent eyes, and
thenceforward he kept near me, always turning to me with
a tender, melancholy interest, as if hoping and praying that
there might, for me, be r some escape from the hell of
heretics.
There was nothing worthy of notice in the architecture
of the church, or the various chapels. That for the dead
was hung with skulls and cross-bones, on a ground of
black ; the grave-yard, in which the dead monks lie, like
the Quakers, under unmarked mounds, was more cheerful.
Here, at least, grass and wild-flowers are not prohibited,
the sweetest mountain breezes find their way over the
monastic walls, and the blue sky above is filled with a
silence, in which there is nothing painful. The most in-
teresting thing I saw was the Hall of the Order, filled with
portraits of its generals, and with frescoes illustrating the
life of San Bruno. A statue of the Saint represents him
THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE. 308
as a venerable man, of pure, noble, and benevolent aspect
The head, I suspect, is imaginary, but it is very fine. As
works of art, the pictures have no merit ; the three priests,
however, looked upon them with awful reverence. So
much depends on place, circumstance, and sentiment!
The brush of Raphael could have added nothing to the
impression which these men drew from the stiff workman-
ship of some unknown painter.
I was astonished at the extent of the buildings. There
is a single corridor, Gothic, of solid stone, six hundred and
sixty feet in length. Looking down it, the perspective
dwindles almost to a point. Opening from it and from the
other intersecting corridors are the cells of the monks, each
with a Biblical sentence in Latin (generally of solemn im-
port) painted on the doors. The furniture of these cells is
very simple, but a human skull is always part of it. In the
rear of each is a small garden, inclosed by a wall, where
the fathers and brothers attend to their own flowers and
vegetables. They must have, it seems, some innocent sol-
ace ; the silence, the fasting, the company of the skull, and
the rigid ceremonials, would else, I imagine, drive the most
of them mad. Those whom we met in the corridor walked
with an excited, flying step, as if trying to outrun their own
thoughts. Their faces were pale and stern ; they rarely
looked at us, and, of course, never spoke. The gloom and
silence, the hushed whispers of the priests and guide, and
the prohibition put upon my own tongue, oppressed me
painfully at last. I longed to startle the dead repose of
the corridors by a shout full of freedom and rejoicing.
There are at present forty patres and twenty fratres in the
monastery. The direction of external matters is intrusted
to a few, who enjoy more contact with the world, and must
be absolved from the obligation of silence. Moreover the
O
rules in this respect are not so strenuously enforced as
formerly. The monks are allowed to converse slightly on
Sundays and saints' days, and once a week, when they walk
804 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
in procession to the Chapel of St. Bruno, higher up the
mountain. An experienced father has charge of the manu-
facture of the liqueur, which is made, I learned, from the
young shoots of the mountain fir, mixed with certain
aromatic herbs. Some parts of the process are kept secret
The Chartreuse is sold, even on the spot, at a high price,
and is sent to all parts of the world.
When we returned to the refectory, I found several
gentlemen from Chambery in waiting. They, also, in-
tended to stay all night, and to start at one in the morning for
the ascent of the Grand Somme, the highest pinnacle of the
mountain. I predicted rain, but they were not to be dis-
couraged. The result was, as I learned next morning, that
they rose at the appointed time, groped about in the for-
est in perfect darkness, and came back in half an hour
drenched to the skin. The servitor informed me that two
Englishmen had arrived, and were entertained in another
part of the monastery. I learned for the first time that, the
better to preserve quiet and order, the guests are separated
according to their nationalities. This explained the mean-
ing of " Salle de la France " on the door of the hall in which
I found myself. Americans are rare visitors, and I presume
they thought it safest to put me with the Frenchmen.
It is always Lent in flie Grand Chartreuse. Neverthe-
less, the dinner of eggs, fish, fruits, cheese, and wine which
was served to us was of excellent quality. The bed wag
coarse but clean, and after putting out my lamp to hide the
reproachful eyes of the Virgin, I slept soundly. Breakfast,
however, was a little too lean for my taste. Instead of coffee
they gave me half-cooked cabbage soup and a lump of black
bread. The bill was five francs. Herein, I think, the monks
are right They make a moderate charge for what they
furnish, instead of expecting -he traveller (as in other
monasteries) to give five times the worth of it as a dona-
tion. Living in such a wilderness, at the height of 4,300
feet above the sea, it is a great labor to keep the requisite
THF GRANDE CHARTREUSE. 305
supplies on hand. Poor travellers are not only lodged and
fed gratuitously, but sometimes receive a small addition to
their funds.
Nevertheless, while I felt a positive respect for the indus-
try, fortitude, and charity of the monks of the Chartreuse, I
drew a long breath of relief as I issued from its whispering
corridors. I believe I talked to my guide in a much louder
voice than usual, as we returned down the gorge. The visit
had been full of interest, yet I could not have guessed, in
advance, how oppressive was the prohibition of speech. I
shall never again admire the silent and solitary system of
some of our penitentiaries.
At St. Laurent du Pont I took the omnibus, getting a
front seat beside the coachman, which I kept, not only to
Voreppe, but down the magnificent valley of Gresivaudan
to Grenoble. The mountains, on the side toward the Isere,
appear to be absolutely inaccessible. No one would guess,
on looking up at them from below, what a remarkable settle
ment has existed for centuries within their solitudes.
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS.
THORINGIA, " The Heart of Germany ," has for many a
century ceased to be a political designation, yet it still lives
in the mouths and the songs of the people as the well-
beloved name for all that middle region lying between the
Hartz on the north and the mountain-chain stretching from
the Main to the Elbe on the south. A few points, such as
Eisenach, Weimar, and Jena, are known to the tourist ; the
greater part, although the stage whereon many of the most
important events in early and mediaeval German history
were enacted, has not yet felt the footstep of the curious
stranger. From the overthrow of its native monarchy by
the Franks, in the sixth century, to the close of 4;he Thirty
Years' War, in the seventeenth, the fortunes of this land
symbolized, in a great measure, those of the Teutonic race.
Behind battle and crime and knightly deed sprang up those
flowers of legend whose mature seed is poetry. In no part
of Europe do they blossom so thickly as here.
I had already stood in the hall of the Minnesingers on the
Wartburg ; had crept into the Cave of Venus, on the moun-
tain of Tannhiiuser ; had walked through the Valley of Joy,
where the two wives of the Count of Gleichen first met face
to face ; and had stood on the spot where Winfried, the
English apostle, cut down the Druid oaks, and set up in
their stead the first altar to Christ. But on the northern
border of Thuringia, where its last mountains look across
the Golden Mead towards the dark summits of the Hartz,
there stands a castle, in whose ruins sleeps the favorite
tradition of Germany, a legend which, changing with the
ages, became the embodiment of an idea, and now repre-
sents the national unity, strength, and freedom. This is
310 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
the Kyffhauser; and the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa
sleeps under it, in a crypt of the mountain, waiting for the
day when the whole land, from the Baltic to the Alps, shall
be ready to receive a single ruler. Then he will come forth,
and the lost Empire will be restored.
Many a time, looking towards the far-away Brocken from
the heights of the Thiiringian Forest, had I seen the tower
of the Kyffhauser like a speck on the horizon, and as often
had resolved to cross the twenty intervening leagues. The
day was appointed and postponed for years, as it hap-
pened ; but a desire which is never given up works out its
own fulfillment in the course of time, and so it was with
mine. It is not always best to track a legend too closely.
The airy brow of Tannhauser's Mountain proved to be very
ugly rock and very tenacious clay, when I had climbed it ;
and I came forth from the narrow slit of a cavern torn,
squeezed out of breath, and spotted with tallow. Some-
thing of the purple atmosphere of the mountain and the
mystery of its beautiful story has vanished since then. But
the day of my departure for the Kyffhauser was meant for
an excursion into dream-land. When the Summer, depart-
ing, stands with reluctant feet ; when the Autumn looks
upon the land, yet has not taken up her fixed abode ; when
the freshness of Spring is revived in every cloudless morn-
ing, and the afternoons melt slowly into smoke and golden
vapor, then comes, for a short space, the season of illu-
sion, of credulity, of winsome superstition.
On such a day I went northward from Gotha into a
boundless, undulating region of tawny harvest and stubble
fields. The plain behind me, stretching to the foot of the
Thiiringian Forest, was covered with a silvery, shimmering
atmosphere, on which the scattered villages, the orchards,
and the poplar-bordered highways were dimly blotted, like
the first timid sketch of a picture, which shall grow into
clear, confident color. Far and wide, over the fields, the
peasants worked silently and steadily among their flax,
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 311
oats, and potatoes, perhaps rejoicing in the bounty of the
sunshine, but too much in earnest to think of singing.
Only the harvest of the vine is gathered to music. The
old swallows collected their flocks of young on the
ploughed land, and drilled them for the homeward flight
The sheep, kept together in a dense gray mass, nibbled
diligently among the stubble, guarded only by a restless
dog. At a corner of the field the box -house of the shep-
herd rested *n its wheels, and he was probably asleep
within it Wains, laden with sheaves, rumbled slowly
along the road towards the village barns. Only the ravens
wheeled and croaked uneasily, as if they had a great deal
of work to do, and couldn't decide what to undertake first
I stretched myself out luxuriously in the carriage, and
basked in the tempered sunshine. I had nothing to do but
to watch the mellow colors of the broadening landscape, as
we climbed the long waves of earth, stretching eastward and
westward out of sight. Those mixed, yet perfect moods
which come equally from the delight of the senses and
the release of the imagination, seem to be the very essence
of poetry, yet how rarely do they become poetry ! The
subtile spirit of song cannot often hang poised in thin air ;
it must needs rest on a basis, however slender, of feeling
or reflection. Eichendorff is the only poet to whom com-
pletely belongs the narrow border-land of moods and sen-
sations. Yet the key-note of the landscape around me
was struck by Tennyson in a single fortunate word,
" In looking on the happy Autumn-fields."
The earth had finished its summer work for man, and now
breathed of rest and peace from tree, and bush, and shorn
stubble, and reviving grass. It was still the repose of lusty
life ; the beginning of death, the sadness of the autumn
was to come.
In crossing the last hill, before descending to the city of
Langensalza, I saw one of the many reverse sides of this
fair picture of life. A peasant girl, ragged, dusty, and
312 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
tired, with a young child in her lap, sat on a stone seat bj
the wayside. She had no beauty ; her face was brown and
hard, her hair tangled, her figure rude and strong, and she
held the child with a mechanical clasp, in which there was
instinct, but not tenderness. Yet it needed but a single
glance to read a story of poverty, and of shame and de-
sertion ignorantly encountered and helplessly endured.
Here was no acute sense of degradation ; only a blind,
brutish wretchedness. It seemed to me, * I saw her,
looking stolidly into the sunny air, that she was repeating
the questions, over and over, without hope of answer:
" Why am I in the world ? What is to become of me ? "
At Langensalza I took a lighter carriage, drawn by a
single horse, which was harnessed loosely on the left side
of a long pole. Unfortunately I had a garrulous old driver
who had seen something of last year's battle, and supposed
that nothing could interest me more than to know precisely
where certain Prussian regiments were posted. Before I
had divined his intention, he left the highway, and carried
me across the fields to the top of the Jews' Hill, which was
occupied at the commencement of the battle by the Prus-
sian artillery. The turf is still marked with the ragged
holes of the cannon-balls. In the plain below, many trees
are slowly dying from an overdose of lead. In the fields
which the farmers were ploughing one sees here and there
a headstone of granite or an iron crucifix ; but all other
traces of the struggle have disappeared. The little mill,
which was the central point of the fight, has been well re-
paired ; only some cannon-balls, grim souvenirs, are left
sticking in the gable-wall. A mile further, across the
Unstrut, at the commencement of the rising country, is the
village of Merxleben, where the Hanoverians were posted.
Its streets are as dull and sleepy as ever before. Looking
at the places where the plaster has been knocked off the
houses, one would not guess the instruments by which H
was done.
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENITS. 318
Some distance further, at a safe height, my old mat
halted beside two poplars. " Here," he said, " the King
of Hanover stood." Did he keep up the mimicry of sight,
I wonder, while the tragedy was going on ? This blind
sovereign represents the spirit of monarchy in its purest
essence. Though totally blind, from a boy, he pretends
to see, because the people must perceive no defect in a
king. When he rides out, the adjutants on both sides are
attached to his arms by fine threads ; and he is thus
guided, while appearing to guide himself. He visits pic-
ture-galleries, admires landscapes, and makes remarks
upon the good or ill appearance of his courtiers. After
the battle of Langensalza, which he pretended to direct,
he sent his uniform to the museum at Hanover, with some
straws and wheat-blades from the field where he stood
sewed upon it in various places 1 Other monarchs of
Europe have carried the tattered trappings of absolutism
into a constitutional form of government, but none of them
has been so exquisitely consistent as this man.
We plodded forward over vast tawny waves of land-
scape, as regular as the swells of the sea. All this terri-
tory, once so rich and populous, was reduced to a desert
during the Thirty Years' War, and two centuries have
barely sufficed to reclaim it. After that war, Germany
possessed only twenty-five per cent, of the men, the cattle,
and the dwellings which she owned when it began, and
this was the least of the evil. The new generation had
grown up in insecurity, in idleness, immorality, and crime ;
the spirit of the race was broken, its blood was tainted,
and it has ever since then been obliged to struggle frona
decadence into new power. We must never lose sight of
these facts when we speak of the Germany of the present
day. Well for us that we have felt only the shock and
struggle, the first awakening of the manly element, not the
later poison of war !
After more than two hours on the silent, lonely heights,
814 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
scarcely a man being here at work in the fields of
abroad on the road, I approached a little town called
Ebeleben, in the principality of Schwarzburg-Sondershau-
sen. The driver insisted on baiting his horse at the " mu-
nicipal tavern," as it was called ; and I remembered that
in the place lived a gentleman whom I had met nine years
before. Everybody knew the Amtsrath ; he was at home ;
it was the large house beside the castle. Ebeleben was
a former residence of the princess ; but now its wonderful
rococo gardens have run wild, the fount^.ns and waterfalls
are dry, the stone statues have lost their noses and arms,
and the wooden sentries posted at all the gates have rotted
to pieces. The remains are very funny. Not a particle
of melancholy can be attached to the decayed grotesque.
I went into the court-yard of the house to which I had
been directed. A huge parallelogram of stone and steep
roofs inclosed it ; there were thirteen ploughs in a row on
one side, and three mountains of manure on the other.
As no person was to be seen, I mounted the first flight of
steps, and found myself in a vast, antiquated kitchen. A
servant, thrusting her head from behind a door, told me to
go forward. Pantries and store-rooms followed, passages
filled with antique household gear, and many a queer nook
and corner ; but I at last reached the front part of the
building, and found its owner. His memory was better
than I had ventured to hope ; I was made welcome so
cordially, that only the sad news that the mistress of the
nouse lay at the point of death made my visit brief. The
Amtsrath, who farms a thousand acres, led me back to the
tavern through his garden, saying, " We must try and bear
all that comes to us," as I took leave.
A few years ago there was a wild, heathery moorland,
the haunt of gypsies and vagabonds, beyond Ebeleben.
Now it is all pasture and grain-field, of thin and barren
aspect, but steadily growing better. The dark-blue line I
had seen to the north, during the day, now took the shape
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 316
of hills covered with forest, and the road passed between
*:hem into the head of a winding valley. The green of
Thiiringian meadows, the rich masses of beech and oak,
again refreshed my eyes. The valley broadened as it fell,
and the castle and spires of Sondershausen came into view.
An equipage, drawn by four horses, came dashing up from
a side-road. There were three persons in it ; the short,
plain-faced man in a felt hat was the reigning prince, Giin-
ther von Schwarzburg. There was not much of his illus-
trious namesake, the Emperor, in his appearance ; but he
had an honest, manly countenance, and I thought it no
harm to exchange greetings.
I think Sondershausen must be the quietest capital in
Europe. It is said to have six thousand inhabitants, about
two hundred of whom I saw. Four were walking in a
pleasant, willow-shaded path beside the mills ; ten were
wandering in the castle-park ; and most of the remainder,
being children, were playing in the streets. When I left,
next morning, by post for the nearest railway station, be-
yond the Golden Mead, I was the only passenger. But the
place is well built, and has an air of contentment and
comfort
I was here on the southern side of the mountain ridge
which is crowned by the Kyffhauser, and determined to
cross to Kelbra, in the Golden Mead, at its northern base.
The valley was draped in the silver mists of the morning
as I set out ; and through them rose the spire of Jecha-
burg, still bearing the name of the Druid divinity there
overthrown by the apostle Winfried. But there was an-
other point in the landscape where my fancy settled the
Trauenberg, at the foot of which was fought the first great
Hunnenschlacht (battle of the Huns). When that gallant
emperor, Henry the Bird-Snarer, sent a mangy dog to
Hungary, instead of the usual tribute, he knew and pre-
pared for the consequences of his act. The Huns burst
into Germany ; he met and defeated them, first here, and
816 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
then near Merseburg (A. D. 933), so f.tterly that the*
never again attempted invasion, Kaulbach's finest cartoon
represents one or the other of these battles. Those fierce
groups of warriors, struggling in a weird atmosphere, made
the airy picture which I saw. One involuntarily tries to
vivify history, and the imagination holds fast to any help.
After an hour and a half among the hills, I saw the
Golden Mead, so bright, so beautiful, that I compre-
hended the love which the German emperors, for centuries,
manifested for it. I looked across a level valley, five or
six miles wide, meadows green as May interrupting the
bands of autumnal gold, groves and winding lines of trees
marking the watercourses, stately towns planted at inter-
vals, broad, ascending slopes of forest beyond, and the
summit of the Brocken crowning all. East and west, the
Mead faded out of sight in shining haze. It is a favored
region. Its bounteous soil lies low and warm, sheltered
by the Hartz ; it has an earlier spring and a later sum-
mer than any other part of Northern Germany. This I
knew, but I was not prepared to find it, also, a delight to
the eye. Towards Nordhausen the green was dazzling,
and there was a blaze of sunshine upon it which recalled
the plain of Damascus.,
At Kelbra, I looked in vain for the Kyff hauser, thougL
so near it; an intervening summit hides the tower. Oii
the nearest headland of the range, however, there is a
ruined castle called the Rothenburg, which has no history
worth repeating, but is always visited by the few who find
their way hither. I procured a small boy as guide, and
commenced my proper pilgrimage on foot. An avenue of
cherry-trees gave but scanty shade from the nerce sun,
while crossing the level of the Golden Mead ; but, on
reaching the mountain, I found a path buried in forests.
It was steep, and hard to climb ; and I soon found reason
for congratulation in the fact that -he summit has an alti-
tude of only fifteen hundred feet. It was attained at las* ;
THE KYFFHA'JSEB AND ITS LEGENDS. 317
the woods, which had been nearly impenetrable, ceased,
and I found myself in front of a curious cottage, with a
thatched roof, built against the foot of a tall round tower
of other days. There were benches and tables under the
adjoining trees ; and a solid figure, with a great white
beard, was moving about in a semi-subterranean apartment,
inserted among the foundations of the castle.
Had it been the Kyffhiiuser, I should have taken him
for Barbarossa. The face reminded me of Walt Whitman,
and, verily, the man proved to be a poet. I soon discov-
ered the fact ; and when he had given us bread and beer,
he brought forth, for my purchase, the third edition of
" Poems by the Hermit of the Rothenburg," published by
Brockhaus, Leipzig. His name is Friedrich Beyer. His
parents kept an inn on ground which became the battle-
field of Jena, three or four years after he was born His
first recollection is of cannon, fire, and pillage. This is all
that I learned of his history; his face suggests a great deal
more. The traces of old passions, ambitions, struggles,
and disappointments have grown faint from the exercise of
a cheerful philosophy. He is proud to be called a poet, yet
serves refreshments with as much alacrity as any ordinary
kellner.
After a time he brought an album, saying : " I keep this
for such poets as happen to come, but there are only two
names, perhaps, that you have ever heard Ludwig Storch
and M'uller von der Werra. Uhland was once in the Hartz,
but he never came here. Riickert and a great many others
have written about the Kyffhauser and Barbarossa; but
the poets, you know, depend on their fancies, rather than
on what they see. I can't go about and visit them, so I
can only become acquainted with the few who travel this
way."
He then took an immense tin speaking-trumpet, stationed
himself on a rock, pointed the trumpet at an opposite ridge
of the mountain, and bellowed forth four notes which
818 BY-WAYS OF EUBOPi.
sounded like the voice of a dying bull. But, after a pause
of silence, angels replied. Tones of supernatural sweet-
ness filled the distant air, fading slowly upwards, until the
blue, which seemed to vibrate like a string that has been
struck, trembled into quiet again. It was wonderful ! I
have heard many echoes, but no other which so marvel-
ausly translates the sounds of earth into the langnage of
heaven. " Do you notice," said the poet, " how one tone
grows out of the others, and silences them ? Whatever
sound I make, that same tone is produced not at first,
but it comes presently from somewhere else, and r^akes it-
self heard. I call it reconciliation atonement ; the prin-
ciple in which all human experience must terminate. You
will find a poem about it in my book."
The Rothenburg has been a ruin for about thret hundred
years. It was a small castle, but of much more elegant
and symmetrical architecture than most of its crumbling
brethren. The trees which have grown up in court-yard
and hall have here and there overthrown portions of the
walls, but a number of handsome Gothic portals and win-
dows remain. The round tower appears to have belonged
to a much earlier structure. The present picturesque
beauty of the place compensates for the lack of history and
tradition. Its position Is such that it overlooks nearly the
whole extent of the Golden Mead and the southern slope
of the Hartz a hemisphere of gold and azure at the time
of my visit. It was a day which had strayed into Septem-
ber out of midsummer. Intense, breathless heat filled the
earth and sky, and there was scarcely a wave of air, even
upon that summit.
The Kyffhauser is two or three miles further eastward,
upon the last headland of the range, in that direction.
The road connecting the two castles runs along the crest,
through forests of the German oak, as is most fit. Taking
leave of the poet, and with his volume in rhy pack, I plod-
ded forward in the shade, attended by " spirits twain," in
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 319
visible to my young guide. Poetry walked on my right
hand, Tradition on my left. History respectfully declined
to join the party ; the dim, vapory, dreamful atmosphere
did not suit her. Besides, in regard to the two points con-
cerning 'which I desired to be enlightened she could have
given me little assistance. Why was the dead Barbarossa
supposed to be enchanted in a vault under the Kyff hauser,
a castle which he had never made his residence ? Fifteen
years ago, at the foot of the Taurus, in Asia Minor, I had
stood on the banks of the river in which he was drowned ;
and in Tyre I saw the chapel in which, according to such
history as we possess, his body was laid. Then, why should
he, of all the German emperors, be chosen as the symbol
of a political resurrection ? He defied the power of the
popes, and was placed under the ban of the Church ; he
gained some battles and lost others; he commenced a
crusade, but never returned from it ; he did something
towards the creation of a middle class, but in advance of
the time when such a work could have been appreciated.
He was evidently a man of genius and energy, of a noble
personal presence, and probably possessed that individual
magnetism, the effect of which survives so long among the
people ; yet all these things did not seem to constitute a
sufficient explanation.
The popularity of the Barbarossa legend, however, is not
to be ascribed to anything in the Emperor's history. In
whatever way it may have been created, it soon became
the most picturesque expression of the dream of German
unity a dream to which the people held fast, while the
princes were doing their best to make its fulfillment impos-
sible. Barbarossa was not the first, nor the last, nor the
best of the great Emperors ; but the legend, ever willful in
its nature, fastened upon him, and Art and Literature are
forced to accept what they find already accepted by the
people. This seemed to me, then, to be the natural ex-
planation, and I am glad to find it confirmed in the main
320 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
points by one of the best living writers of Germany. The
substance of the popular tradition is embodied in this little
song of Biickert :
" The Ancient Barbarossa,
Friedrich, the Kaiser great,
Within the castle-cavern
Sits in enchanted state.
" He did not die ; but ever
Waits in the chamber deep,
Where, hidden under the castle,
He sat himself, to sleep.
" The splendor of the Empire
He took with him away,
And back to earth will bring it
When dawns the chosen day.
" The chair is ivory purest
Whereof he makes his bed;
The table is of marble
Whereon he props his head.
" His beard, not flax, but burning
With fierce and tier}' glow,
Right through the marble table
Beneath his chin doth grow.
" He nods in dreams, and winketh
With dull, half-open eye,
And, once an age, he beckons
A page that standeth by.
" He bids the boy in slumber:
1 dwarf, go up this hour,
And see if still the ravens
Are flying round the tower.
" ' And if the ancient ravens
Still wheel above me here,
Then must I sleep enchanted
For many a hundred year.' M
Hlf-way from the Rothenburg after passing t nou
THE K"i FFHAUSEK AND ITS LEGENDS. 321
pyramid of petrified wood, I. caught sight of the tower of
the Kyffhauser, a square dark-red mass, looming over the
oak woods. The path dwindled to a rude forest road, and
the crest of the mountain, on the left, hid from view the
glimmering level of the Golden Mead. I saw nothing but
the wooded heights on the right, until, after climbing a
space, I found myself suddenly in the midst of angular
mounds of buried masonry. The " Kaiser Friedrich's
tower," eighty feet high and about thirty feet square, ap-
peared to be all that remained of the castle. But the ex-
tensive mounds over which I stumbled were evidently
formed from the debris of roofs and walls, and something
in their arrangement suggested the existence of vaults
under them. The summit of the mountain, four or five
hundred feet in length, is entirely covered with the ruins
A cottage in the midst, occupied by three wild women, is
built over an ancient gateway, the level of which is con-
siderably below the mounds ; and I felt sure, although the
women denied it, that there must be subterranean cham-
bers. They permitted me, in consideration of the pay-
ment of three cents, to look through a glass in the wall,
and behold a hideous picture of the sleeping Emperor.
Like Macbeth's witches, they cried in chorus :
"Show! show!
Show his eyes and grieve his heart;
Take his money, a^.1 let him depart ! "
That, and a bottle of bad beer, which my small boy
drank with extraordinary facility, was all the service they
were willing to render me. But the storied peak was de-
serted ; the vast ring of landscape basked in the splendid
day ; the ravens were flying around the tower ; and there
were seats at various points where I could rest at will and
undisturbed. The Kyffhauser \vas so lonely that its
gnomes might have allowed the wonder-flower to grow for
me, and have opened their vaults without the chance of a
21
822 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
profane foot following. I first sketched the tower, to sat
isfy Duty ; and then gave myself up to the guidance of
Fancy, whose face, on this occasion was not to be distin-
guished from that of Indolence. There was not a great
deal to see, and no discoveries to make ; but the position
of the castle was so lordly, the view of the Golden Mead so
broad and beautiful, that I could have asked nothing more.
I remembered, as I looked down, the meadows of Tarsus,
and pictured to myself, in the haze beyond the Brocken,
the snowy summits of the Taurus. " What avails the truth
of history ? " I reflected ; " I know that Barbarossa never
lived here, yet I cannot banish his shadowy figure from my
thoughts. Nay, I find myself on the point of believing the
legend."
The word " Kyff hauser " means, simply, " houses on the
peak " (Mppe or kuppe). The people, however, have a
derivation of their own. They say that, after Julius Caesar
had conquered the Thiiringian land, he built a castle for
his praetor on this mountain, and called it Confasio, to
signify the state to which he had reduced the ancient mon-
archy. Long afterwards, they add, a stag was found in the
forest, with a golden collar around its neck, on which were
the words : "' Let no one hurt me ; Julius gave me my
liberty." The date of the foundation of the castle cannot
be determined. It was probably a residence, alternately,
of the Thuringians and Franks, in the early Christian cen-
turies ; the German emperors afterwards occasionally in-
habited it ; but it was ruined in the year 1189, just before
the departure of Barbarossa for the Orient. Afterwards
rebuilt, it appears to have been finally overthrown and de-
serted in the fourteenth century. It is a very slender his-
tory wnich I have to relate ; but, as I said before, History
did not accompany me on the pilgrimage.
The Saga, however, whose word is often as good as
the written record, had a great deal to say. She told
me, first, that the images and ideas of a religion live among
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ItS LEGENDS.
the people for ages after the creed is overthrown ; that the
half of a faith is simply transferred, not changed. Here is
the thread by which the legend of the Kyffhauser may be
unraveled. The gods of the old Scandinavian and Teutonic
mythology retreated into the heart of certain sacred moun-
tains during the winter, and there remained until the
leaves began to put forth in the forests, when the people
celebrated their reappearance by a spring festival, the
Druid Pentecost. When Christianity was forced upon the
land, and the names of the gods were prohibited, the prom-
inent chiefs and rulers took their place. Charlemagne sat
with his paladins in the Untersberg, near Salzburg, under
the fortress of Nuremberg, and in various other mountains.
Two centuries later, Otto the Great was, in like manner,
invested with a subterranean court; then, after an equal
space of time, came Barbarossa's turn. Gustav Freytag, 1
to whom I am indebted for some interesting information on
this point, read to me, from a Latin chronicle of the year
1050, the following passage: "This year there was great
excitement among the people, from the report that a ruler
would come forth and lead them to war. Many believed
that it would be Charlemagne ; but many also believed
that it would be another, whose name cannot be men-
tioned." This other was Wuotan (Odin), whose name the
people whispered three centuries after they had renounced
his worship. r
This explanation fits every particular of the legend.
The Teutonic tribes always commenced their wars in the
spring, after the return of the gods to the surface of the
earth. The ravens flying around the tower are the well-
known birds of Odin. When Barbarossa comes forth, he
will first hang his shield on the barren tree, which will
then burst into leaf. The mediaeval legend sprang natu-
rally from the grave of the dead religion. Afterwards,
1 The well-known author of Debit and Credit, and Pictures of the Germa*
Pa*.
824 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
probabl} during the terrible depression which followed the
Thirty Years' War, another transfer took place. The
gods were at last forgotten ; but the aspirations of the peo-
ple, connecting Past and Future, found a new meaning in
the story, which the poets, giving it back to them in a glo-
rified form, fixed forever.
We have only two things to assume, and they will give
us little trouble. The Kyffhauser must have been one of
those sacred mountains of the Teutons in which the gods
took up their winter habitation. Its character corresponds
with that of other mountains which were thus selected. It
is a projecting headland, partly isolated from the rest of
the range, like Tabor, " a mountain apart." This would
account for the 'location of the legend. The choice of
Barbarossa may be explained partly by the impression
which his personal presence and character made upon the
people (an effect totally independent of his place in his-
tory), and partly from the circumstance, mysterious to
them, that he went to the Holy Land, and never returned.
Although they called him the " Heretic Emperor," on ac-
count of his quarrel with the Pope, this does not appear to
have diminished the power of his name among them. The
first form of the legendf as we find it in a fragment of
poetry from the fourteenth century, says that he disap-
peared, but is not dead ; that hunters or peasants some-
times meet him as a pilgrim, whereupon he discovers him-
self to them, saying that he will yet punish the priests, and
restore the Holy Roman Empire. A history, published ir
the year 1519, says : " lie was a man of great deeds, mar-
velously courageous, lovable, severe, and with the gift of
speech, renowned in many things as was no one before
him save Carolus the Great, and is at last lost, so that
no man knows what is become of him."
I know not where to look for another tradition made up
of such picturesque elements. Although it may be told in
a few words, it contains the quintessence of the history of
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 326
two thousand years. Based on the grand Northern my.
thology, we read in it the foundation of Christianity the
Crusades, that hatred of priestcraft which made the Refor-
mation possible, the crumbling to pieces of the old German
Empire, and finally that passionate longing of the race
which is now conducting it to a new national unity and
power. For twenty years the Germans have been collect-
ing funds to raise a monument to Herrmann, the Cheru-
skian chief, the destroyer of Varus and his legions in the
Teutoburger Forest; yet Germany, after all, grew great
from subjection to the laws and learning of Rome. The
Kyffhauser better deserves a monument, not specially to
Barbarossa, but to that story which for centuries symbolized
the political faith of the people.
The local traditions which have grown up around the
national one are very numerous. Some have been trans-
planted hither from other places, as, for instance, that
of the key-flower, but others, very naive and original,
belong exclusively here. It is possible, however, that they
may also be found in other lands ; the recent researches in
fairy lore teach us that scarcely anything of what we pos-
sess is new. Here is one which suggests some passages
in Wieland's " Oberon."
In Tilleda, a village at the foot of the Kyffhauser, some
lads and lasses were met, one evening, for social diversion.
Among them was a girl whom they were accustomed to
make the butt of their fun whom none of them liked,
although she was honest and industrious. By a secret
understanding, a play of pawns was proposed; and when
this girl's turn came to redeem hers, she was ordered to
go up to the castle and bring back three hairs from the
sleeping Emperor's beard. She set out on the instant,
while the others made themselves merry over her sim-
plicity. To their great surprise, however, she returned in
an hour, bringing with her three hairs, fiery-red in color
and of astonishing length. She related that, having en-
326 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
tered the subterranean chambers, she was conducted by
dwarf to the Emperor's presence, where, after having
drained a goblet of wine to his health, and that of the
Frau Empress, she received permission to pluck three
hairs from the imperial beard, on condition that she would
neither give them away nor destroy them. She faithfully
kept the promise. The hairs were laid away among her
trinkets ; and a year afterwards she found them changed
into rods of gold, an inch in diameter. Of course the
former Cinderella then became the queen.
There are several stories, somewhat similar in character,
of which musicians or piping herdsmen are the heroes.
Now it is a company of singers or performers, who, passing
the Kyff hauser late at night, give the sleeping Emperor a
serenade; now it is a shepherd, who saying to himself,
" This is for the Kaiser Friedrich " plays a simple melody
upon his flute. In each case an entrance opens into the
mountain. Either a princess comes forth with wine, or a
page conducts the musicians into the Emperor's presence.
Sometimes they each receive a green bough in payment,
sometimes a horse's head, a stick, or a bunch of flax. All
are either dissatisfied with their presents, or grow tired of
carrying them, and throw them away, except one (gener-
ally the poorest and silliest of the company), who takes his
home with him as a souvenir of the adventure, or as an
ironical present to his wife, and finds it, next morning,
changed into solid gold. How faithful are all these legends
to the idea of compensation ! It is always the poor, the
simple, the persecuted to whom luck comes.
I have two more stories, of a different character, to re-
peat. A poor laborer in Tilleda had an only daughter,
who was betrothed to a young man equally pooi, but good
and honest. It was the evening before the wedding-day ;
the guests were already invited, and the father suddenly
remembered with dismay that there was only one pot, one
dish, and two plates in the house. " What shall we do?"
tBE KYFFHAUSEB AND ITS LEGENDS. 827
he cried. " You must go up to the Kyffhauser, and ask
the Princess to lend us some dishes." Hand in hand the
lovers climbed the mountain, and at the door of the cavern
found the Princess, who smiled upon them as they came.
They made their request timidly and with fear ; but she
bade them take heart, gave them to eat and drink, and
filled a large basket with dishes, spoons, and everything
necessary for a wedding feast. When they returned to the
village with their burden, it was day. All things were
strange ; they recognized neither house nor garden : the
people were unknown to them, and wore a costume they
had never before seen. Full of distress and anxiety, they
sought the priest, who, after hearing their story, turned
over the church-books, and found that they had been ab-
sent just two hundred years.
The other legend is that of Peter Klaus, the source frono
which Irving drew his Rip Van Winkle. I had read it
before (as have, no doubt, many of my readers), but was
not acquainted with its local habitation until my visit to
the Kyffhauser. It was first printed, so far as I can learn,
in a collection made by Otmar, and published in Bremen
in the year 1800. Given in the briefest outline, it is as
follows : Peter Klaus, a shepherd of Sittendorf, pastured
his herd on the Kyffhauser, and was in the habit of collect-
ing the animals at the foot of an old ruined wall. He
noticed that one of his goats regularly disappeared for
some hours every day ; and. finding that she went into an
opening between two of the stones, he followed her. She
led him into a vault, where she began eating grains of oats
which fell from the ceiling. Over his head he heard the
stamping and neighing of horses. Presently a squire in
ancient armor appealed, and beckoned to him without
speaking. He was led up stairs, across a court-yard, and
into an open space in the mountain, sunken deep between
rocky walls, where a company of knights, stern and silent
were playing at bowls. Peter Klaus was directed by ge
328 BY-WAYS OF ELBOPE.
tures 1 i set up the pins, which he did in mortal fear, until
the quality of a can of wine, placed at his elbow, stimulated
his courage. Finally, after long service and many deep
potations, he slept. When he awoke, he found himself
lying among tall weeds, at the foot of the ruined wall.
Herd and dog had disappeared ; his clothes were in tatters,
and a long beard hung upon his breast. He wandered
back to the village, seeking his goats, and marveling that
he saw none but strange faces. The people gathered
around him, and answered his questions, but each name he
named was that upon a stone in the church-yard. Finally,
a woman who seemed to be his wife pressed through the
crowd, leading a wild-looking boy, and with a baby in her
arms. " What is your name ? " he asked.
" Maria."
" And your father ? "
" He was Peter Klaus, God rest his soul ! who went up
the Kyffhauser with his herd, twenty years ago, and has
never been seen since."
Irving has taken almost every feature of his story from
this legend ; but his happy translation of it to the Catskills.
and the grace and humor which he has added to it, have
made it a new creation. ' Peter Klaus is simply a puppet of
the people's fancy, but Rip Van Winkle has an immortal
vitality of his own. Few, however, who look into the wild
little glen, on climbing to the Catskill Mountain House,
suspect from what a distance was wafted the thistle-down
which there dropped and grew into a new plant, with the
richest flavor and color of the soil. Here, on the Kyffhau-
ser, I find the stalk whence it was blown by some fortunate
wind.
No doubt some interesting discoveries might be made,
if the ruins were cleared and explored. At the eastern
end of the crest are the remains of another tower, from
which I detected masses of masonry rising through the
oaks, on a lower platform of the mountain. The three
THE KYFFHA'USER AND ITS LEGENDS. 329
wild women informed me that there was a chapel dowt
there ; but my small boy had never heard of it, and didn't
know the way.
" Where do you come from, boy ? " the woman asked.
" From Kelbra."
" O . ah ! To be sure you don't know ! The Kelbra
people are blockheads and asses, every one of 'em. They
think their Rothenburg is everything, when the good Lord
knows that the Kaiser Red-beard never lived there a day
of his life. From Kelbra, indeed ! It's the Tilleda people
that know how to guide strangers ; you've made a nice
mess of it, Herr, taking a Kelbra boy ! "
Perhaps I had ; but it wasn't pleasant to be told of it in
that way. So I took my boy, said farewell to Barbarossa's
tower, and climbed down the steep of slippery grass and
stones to the ruins of the lower castle. The scrubby oaks
and alder thickets were almost impenetrable ; a single path
wound among them, leading me through three ancient
gateways, but avoiding several chambers, the walls of which
are still partially standing. However, I finally reached the
chapel a structure more Byzantine than Gothic, about
fifty feet in length. It stands alone, at the end of a court-
yard, and is less ruined than any other part of the castle.
The windows remain, and a great part of the semicircular
chancel, but I could find no traces of sculpture. The floor
had been dug up in search of buried treasure. Looking
through an aperture in the wall, I saw another inclosure
of ruins on a platform further below. The castle of Kyff-
hauser, then, embraced three separate stages of buildings,
nil connected, and forming a pile nearly a quarter of a mile
in length. Before its fall it must have been one of the
stateliest fortresses in Germany.
I descended the mountain in the fierce, silent heat which
made it seem so lonely, so far removed from the bright
world of the Golden Mead. There were no flocks on the
dry pasture-slopes, no farmers in tho stubble-fields undei
830 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
them ; and the village of Tilleda, lying under my eye*
bared its deserted streets to the sun. There, nevertheless,
I found rest and refreshment in a decent inn. My desti
nation was the town of Artern, on the Unstrut, at the east-
ern extremity of the Golden Mead ; and I had counted on
finding a horse and hay-cart, at least, to carry me over the
intervening nine or ten miles. But no ; nothing of the
kind was to be had in Tilleda even a man to shoulder
my pack was an unusual fortune, for which I must be grate-
ful. " Wait till evening," said the landlady, after describing
to me the death of her husband, and her business troubles,
" and then Hans Meyer will go with you."
The story being that the family of Goethe originally came
from Artern, and that some of its members were still living
in the neighborhood, I commenced my inquiries at Tilleda.
" Is there anybody of the name of Goethe in the village ?"
I asked the landlady.
" Yes," said she, " there 's the blacksmith Goethe, but I
believe he 's the only one."
The poet's great-grandfather having been a blacksmith,
and the practice of a certain trade or profession being so
frequently hereditary among the Germans, I did not doubt
but that this was a genuine branch of the family. All that
the landlady could say of the man, in reply to my questions,
was, " He 's only a blacksmith."
The sun had nearly touched the tower on the Kyffhauser
when Hans Meyer and I set out for Artern ; but the fields
still glowed with heat, and the far blue hills, which I must
reach, seemed to grow no nearer, as I plodded painfully
along the field-roads. The man was talkative enough, and
his singular dialect was not difficult to understand. He
knew no tradition which had not already been gathered,
but, like a genuine farmer, entertained me with stories of
hail-storms, early and late frosts, and inundations. He was
inveterately wedded to old fashions, and things of the past,
had served against the Republicans in 1849. and not a glim
THE OFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 331
mering idea of the present national movement had ever
entered his mind. I had heard that this region was the
home of conservative land-owners, and ignorant peasants
who believe in them, but I am not willing to take Hans
Meyer as a fair specimen of the people.
It is wearisome to tell of a weary journey, The richest
fields may be monotonous, and the sweetest pastoral scenery
become tame, without change. I looked over the floor of
the Golden Mead, with ardent longing towards the spire of
Artern in the east, and with a faint interest towards the
castle of Sachsenberg, in the south, perched above a gorge
through which the Unstrut breaks its way. The sun went
down in a splendor of color, the moon came up like a
bronze shield, grain-wagons rolled homewards, men and
women flocked into the villages, with rakes and forks on
their shoulders, and a cool dusk slowly settled over the
great plain. Hans Meyer was silent at last, and I was in
that condition of tense endurance when an unnecessary re-
mark is almost as bad as an insult ; and so we went over
the remaining miles, entering the gates of Artern by moon-
light.
The first thing I did in the morning, was to recommence
my inquiries in regard to Goethe. " Yes," said the land-
lord, " his stammhaus (ancestral house) is here, but the
family don't live in it any longer. If you want to see it,
one of the boys shall go with you. There was formerly a
smithy in it ; but the smiths of the family left, and then it
was changed."
I followed the boy through the long, roughly-paved main
street, until we had nearly reached the western end of the
town, when he stopped before an old yellow house, two
stories high, with a steep tiled roof. Its age, I should
guess, was between two and three hundred years. The
street-front, above the ground floor, which, having an
arched entrance and only one small window, must have
been thefoimer smithy, showed its framework Df timber
882 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
as one sees in all old German houses. Before the closelj
ranged windows of the second story there were shelves with
pots of gilliflowers and carnations in blossom. It was a
genuine mechanic's house, with no peculiar feature to dis-
tinguish it particularly from the others in the street A
thin-faced man, with sharp black mustache, looked out of
one of the windows, and spoke to the boy, who asked
whether I wished to enter. But as there was really nothing
to be seen, I declined.
According to the chronicles of Artern, the great-grand-
father Goethe, the blacksmith, had a son who was appren-
ticed to a tailor, and who, during his wander schaft, sojourned
awhile in Frankfort-on-the-Main. He there captivated the
fancy of a rich widow, the proprietress of the Willow-Bush
Hotel (the present " Hotel Union"), and married her, or
she married him, a fact which presupposes good looks,
or talents, or both, on his part. His son, properly edu-
cated, became in time the Councillor Goethe, who begat
the poet The latter, it is said, denied that the tailor was
his grandfather, whence it is probable that an additional
generation must be interpolated ; but the original black-
smith has been accepted, I believe, by the most of Goethe's
biographers. A generation, more or less, makes no differ-
ence. Goethe's ancestry, like that of Shakespeare, lay in
the ranks of the people, and their strong blood ran in the
veins of both.
No author ever studied himself with such a serene, ob-
jective coolness as Goethe ; but when he speaks to the
world, one always feels that there is a slight flavor of dich-
inng infused into his wahrheit. Or perhaps, with the arro-
gance natural to every great intellect, he reasoned outward,
and assumed material from spiritual facts. Fiction being
only Truth seen through a different medium, the poet who
can withdraw far enough from his own nature to contem-
plate it as an artistic study, works under a different law
from that of the autobiographer. So when Goethe illus-
THE KYFFHAUSEK AND ITS LEGENDS. 333
bates himself, we must not always look closely for facts.
The only instance, which I can recall at this moment,
wherein he speaks of his ancestors, is the poetical frag
ment :
" Stature from father, and the mood
Stern views of life compelling;
From mother I take the joyous heart,
And the love of story-telling;
Great-grandsire's passion was the fair
What if I still reveal it?
Great-grandam's was pomp, and gold, and show,
And in my bones I feel it."
It is quite as possible, here, that Goethe deduced the
character of his ancestors from his own, as that he sought
an explanation of the latter in their peculiarities. The
great-gran dsire may have been Textor, of his mother's
line ; it is not likely that he knew much of his father's
family-tree. The burghers of Frankfurt were as proud, in
their day, as the nobility of other lands ; and Goethe, at
least in his tastes and habits, was a natural aristocrat. It
is not known that he ever visited Artern.
Concerning the other members of the original family, the
landlord said : " Not one of them lives here now. The last
Goethe in the neighborhood was a farmer, who had a lease
of the scharfrichterei " (an isolated property, set apart for
the use of the government executioner), " but he left here
some six or eight years ago, and emigrated to America."
" Was he the executioner ? " I asked. " O, by no means ! "
the landlord answered ; " he only leased the farm ; but it
was not a comfortable place to live upon, and, besides, he
didn't succeed very well." So the blacksmith in Tilleda
and the American Goethe are the only representatives left.
What if a great poet for our hemisphere should, in time,
spring from the loins of the latter ?
I ordered a horse and carriage with no compunctions of
conscience, for I was really unable to make a second day's
journey on foot. The golden weather had lasted just long
884 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE
enough to complete my legendary pilgrimage. The mom
ing at Artern came on with cloud and distant gray sweeps
of rain, which soon blotted out the dim headland of the
Kyff hauser. 1 followed the course of the Unstrut, which
here reaches the northern limit of his wanderings, and
winds southward to seek the Saale. The valley of the river
is as beautiful as it is secluded, and every hour brings a
fresh historical field to the traveller. No highway enters
it; only rude country roads lead from village to village, and
rude inns supply plain cheer. Tourists are here an unknown
variety of the human race.
I passed the ruins of Castle Wendelstein, battered during
the Thirty Years' War, a manufactory of beet-sugar now
peacefully smokes in the midst of its gray vaults and but-
tresses, and then Memleben, where Henry the Bird.
Snarer lived when he was elected Emperor, and Otto II.
founded a grand monastery. Other ruins and ancient
battle-fields followed, and finally Nebra, where, in 531, the
Thuringians fought with the Franks three days, and lost
their kingdom. On entering Nebra, I passed an inn with
the curious sign of " Care " (Sorge), represented by a
man with a most dismal face, and his head resting hope-
lessly upon his hand. An inn of evilest omen ; and, as
suredly, I did not stop the're.
Further down the valley, green vineyards took the place
of the oak forests, and the landscapes resembled those of
the Main and the Neckar. There were still towns, and
ruined castles, and battle-fields, but I will not ask the
reader to explore the labyrinthine paths of German history.
The atmosphere of the legend had faded, and I looked with
an indifferent eye on the storied scenes which the windings
of the river unfolded. At sunset, I saw it pour its waters
into those of the Saale, not far from the railway station at
Naumburg, where I came back to the highways of travel
A WEEK ON CAPEI.
Lo OKING seaward from Naples, the island oi Capri lies
across the throat of the bay like a vast natural breakwater,
grand in all its proportions, arid marvelously picturesque in
outline. The fancy is at once excited, and seeks to find
some definite figure therein. Long ago, an English traveller
compared it to a coucbant lion ; Jean Paul, on the strength
of some picture he had seen, pronounced it to be a sphinx ;
while Gregorovius, most imaginative of all, finds that it is
" an antique sarcophagus, with bas-reliefs of snaky-haired
Eumenides, and the figure of Tiberius lying ipon it."
Capri is not strictly a by-way of travel, inasmuch as most
of the tourists who come to Naples take the little bay-
steamer, visit the Blue Grotto, touch an hour at the marina,
or landing-place, and return the same evening via Sorrento.
But this is like reading a title-page, instead of the volume
behind it. The few who climb the rock, and set themselves
quietly down to study the life and scenery of the island, find
an entire poem, to which no element of beauty or interest
is wanting, opened for their perusal. Like Venice, Capri is
a permanent island in the traveller's experience detached
from the mainland of Italian character and associations. It
is not a grand dramatic epic, to which light waves keep time,
tinkling on the marble steps ; but a bright, breezy pastoral
of the sea, with a hollow, rumbling undertone of the Past,
like that of the billows in its caverns. Venice has her
generations, her ages of heroic forms : here one sole figure,
supiemely fierce and abominable, usurps the historic back-
ground. Not only that : its shadow is projected over the
life of the island, now and for all time to come. Here>
where Nature has placed terror and beauty side I y side*
22
338 BT-WAYS OF EUROPE.
the tragedy of one man is inextricably blended with the
idyllic annals of a simple, innocent people. To feel this,
one must live a little while on Capri.
It was nearly the end of January, when Antonio, our boat
man, announced that we had the "one day. out of a dozen,''
for crossing the ten miles of sea between Sorrento and the
o
island. I had my doubts, placing my own weather-instinct
against the boatman's need of making a good fare in a dull
season ; but we embarked, nevertheless. The ripple of a
sirocco could even then be seen far out on the bay, and a
cloudy wall of rain seemed to be rising from the sea. " Non
c'e paura" said the sailors ; " we have a god-mother at the
marina of Capri, and we are going to burn a lamp for her
to-night. She will give us good weather." They pulled
gayly, and we soon passed the headland of Sorrento, beyond
which the mouth of the Bay of Naples opened broadly to
view. Across the water, Ischia was already dim with rain ;
and right in front towered Capri, huge, threatening, and to
the eye inaqcessible but for the faint glimmer of houses at
the landing-place.
Here we met the heavy well rolling in from the sea.
The men bent to their oars, with cries of " Hal-li ! mac-
cheroni a Capri ! " The ,spray of the coming rain struck
us, but it was light and warm. Antonio set the sail, and we
steered directly across the strait, the sky becoming darker
and wilder every minute. The bold Cape of Minerva, with
its Odyssean memories, and the Leap of Tiberius, on Capri ?
were the dim landmarks by which we set our course. It
was nearly two hours before we came to windward of the
latter, and I said to Antonio : " It is one day out of a dozen
for cold and wet." He was silent, and made an attempt to
look melancholy. However, the rocks already overhung us
in front was a great curving sweep of gardens, mounting
higher and ever higher in the twilight ; and the only boat
we had seen on the deserted bay drew in towards us, and
made for the roadstead.
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 339
The row of fishermen's houses on the beach beckoned
welcome after the dreary voyage. At first I saw no human
being, but presently some women and children appeared,
hurrying to the strand. A few more lifts on the dying
swell, and our keel struck the shore. The sailors jumped
into the water; one of the women planted a tall bench
against the bow, and over this bridge we were landed.
There was already a crowd surrounding us with clamor?
for gifts and service. The woman with the bench was the
noisiest : " It is mine ! " she continually cried, "/brought
it ! " I gave her H copper coin, expecting, after my Nea-
politan experiences to hear wilder cries for more ; but she
only uttered, " Eh f due bajocchi ! " in an indescribable tone,
shouldered her bench, and walked away. Antonio picked
out two maidens, piled our baggage upon their heads, and
we set off for the town of Capri. The clamorous crowd
dissolved at once ; there was neither insult nor pursuit It
was a good-humored demonstration of welcome nothing
more.
It was but a single step from the strand the only little
fragment of beach on ten miles of inaccessible shore to
the steep and stony pathway leading up the height. It still
rained, and the night was rapidly falling. High garden
walls further darkened the way, which was barely wide
enough to allow two persons to pass, and the bed of which,
collecting the rain from the steeps on either side, was like
that of a mountain torrent. Before us marched the bare-
legged porteresses, with astonishing lightness and swiftness,
while we plodded after, through the rattling waters, often
slipping on the wet stones, and compelled to pause at every
corner to regain our breath. The bright houses on the
ndge overhead shone as if by their own light, crowning the
dusky gardens, and beckoning us upwards.
After neariy half an hour of such climbing, we emerged
from between the walls. A vast, hollow view opened dimly
down to the sea for a moment ; then we passed under an arch,
840 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
and found ourselves in the little square of the town, which
is planted on the crest of the island, at its lowest point.
There are not forty feet of level ground ; the pavement
falls to both shores. A few paces down the southern slope
brought us to a large white mansion, beside which the
crown of a magnificent palm-tree rustled in the wind.
This was the hostelry of Don Michele Pagano, known to
all artists who have visited Capri for the last twenty years.
A stately entrance, an ample staircase, and lofty, vaulted
chambers, gave the house a palatial air, as we came into it
out of the stormy night. The two maidens, who had car-
ried forty pounds apiece on their heads, were not in the
least flushed by their labor. The fee I gave seemed to me
very small, but they were so well pleased that Antonio's
voice, demanding, " Why don't you thank the Signore ? "
made them start out of a dream, perhaps of pork and
macaroni. At once, like children saying their lessons, they
dipped a deep courtesy, side by side, saying, " Grazie, Sig-
nore ! " I then first saw how pretty they were, how bright
their eyes, how dazzling their teeth, and how their smiles
flashed as they said " Good-night ! " Meanwhile, Don
Michele's daughter had kindled a fire on the hearth, there
was a promise of immediate dinner, and we began to like
Capri from that moment.
My first walk satisfied me that no one can make ac-
quaintance with the island, from a boat. Its sea-walls of
rock are so enormous, that they hide almost its entire habit-
able portion from view. In order to make any description
of its scenery clear to the reader, the prominent topograph-
ical features must be first sketched. Capri lies due south
of Naples, its longer diameter running east and west, so
that it presents its full broadside to the capital. Its out-
line, on the ground plan, is that of a short, broad-topped
boot, the toe pointing towards the Sorrentine headland.
The breadth, across the top, or western end, is two miles,
and the length of the island is about four miles. The town
A WEEK ON CAPRI.
of Capri lies just at the top of the instep, where the ankle
is narrowest, occupying also the crest between the northern
and southern shores. Immediately to the west of it rises a
tremendous mountain-wall, only to be scaled at one point.
All the island beyond this wall is elevated considerably
above the eastern half, the division being also municipal
and social. The eastern part, however, possesses the only
landing-places on both shores, whence it is the most ani-
mated and populous, claiming at least two thirds of the
entire number of five thousand souls on the island. The
most elevated points are the Salto (leap) di Tiberio, the
extreme eastern cape, which rises nearly a thousand feet
above the sea ; and Monte Solaro, a part of the dividing
wall which I have just mentioned, about double the height
of the Salto. In addition to the landing-place on the
northern shore, there is a little cove just opposite, below
the town, where boats can land in still weather. Else-
where, the rocks descend to the water in a sheer wall, from
one to eight hundred feet in height. Although so near
Naples, the winds from the mountains of the Peninsula are
somewhat softened in crossing the bay, and the winter
temperature is about ten degrees higher in consequence.
When we crossed the little square of the town to the
entrance-gate, on the morning after our arrival, there was a
furious tramontana blowing. The whole circuit of the Bay
of Naples was visible, drawn in hard, sharp outlines, and
the blue basin of water was freckled with thousands of
shifting white-caps. The resemblance of the bay to a vast
volcanic crater struck my fancy : the shores and islands
seem to be the ruins of its rim. Such a wind, in Naples,
would have been intolerable : here it was only strong at
exposed points, and its keen edge was gone. We turned
eastward, along the narrow, dirty street, to get into the
country. In a hundred yards the town ceased, and the
heavy walls gave place to enormous hedges of cactus. A
boy, walking the same way, asked : " Are you going to
842 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
Timberio " (Tiberius) ? The ruins of the Villa Jovis, the
principal palace of the Emperor, were already to be seen,
on the summit of the eastern headland of the island.
Along a roughly paved lane, under the shade of carob and
olive trees, we finally came to a large country-house in a
most picturesque state of ruin. A crumbling archway,
overhung by a fringe of aloes, which had thrust their roots
between the stones, attracted my attention, and I began to
sketch it. Not many minutes elapsed before five or six
boys came out, and watched me from the arch. They
would have been good accessories, but, whenever I looked
at one, he got out of the way. Presently they brought an
aloe, and set it upon the rocks ; but, seeing that I paid no
attention to it, one of them remarked with a grimace, " No
butiglia," meaning that he expected no gratuity from me.
They were lively, good-natured imps, and so it was a pleas-
ure to disappoint them agreeably.
We went also down the southern slope of the island, and
came at random into the Val Tragara, a peaceful sol-
itude, where twenty-five centuries of labor have turned the
hostile rocks into tiers of ever-yielding gardens. One range
of these is supported upon arches of masonry that formerly
upheld the highway which Tiberius constructed between
his palaces. I afterwards found other traces of the road,
leading in easy zigzags to the site of the fourth palace on
San Michele. Descending deeper in the Val Tragara we
missed the main path, and stumbled down the channels of
the rain between clumps of myrtle and banks whereon the
red anemone had just begun to open its blossoms. The
olive-trees, sheltered from the wind, were silent, and their
gray shadows covered the suggestive mystery of the spot.
For here Tiberius is supposed to have hidden those rites of
the insane Venus to which Suetonius and Tacitus so darkly
allude.
" Non ragioniam di lor, ma guarda e passa."
A single almond-tree, in flower, made its own sunshine
A WEEK ON CAPRI.
in the silvery gloom ; and the secluded beauties of the
place tempted us on, until the path dropped into a ravine,
which fell towards the sea. Following the line of the an-
cient arches there is another path the only level walk on
the island leading to a terrace above the three pointed
rocks off the southern coast, called the Faraglioni. In the
afternoon, when all the gardens and vineyards from the
edge of the white cliffs to the town along the ridge lie in
light, and the huge red and gray walls beyond, literally
piled against the sky, are in hazy shadow, the views from
this path are poems written in landscape forms. One does
not need to remember that here once was Rome ; that
beyond the sea lie Sicily and Carthage ; that Augustus con-
secrated the barren rock below to one of his favorites, and
jested with Thrasyllus at one of his last feasts. The de-
light of the eye fills you too completely ; and Capri, as you
gaze, is released from its associations, classic and diabolic.
If Nature was here profaned by man, she has long ago
washed away the profanation. Her pure air and healthy
breezes tolerate no moral diseases. Such were brought
hither ; but they took no root, and have left no trace, ex-
cept in the half-fabulous " Timberio " of the people.
It is time to visit the Villa Jovis, the Emperor's chief
residence. The tramontana still blew when we set out;
but, as I said, it had lost its sharp edge in coming over the
bay, and was deliciously bracing. As the gulf opened
below us, after passing Monte San Michele, we paused to
look at the dazzling panorama. Naples was fair in sight ;
and the smoke of Vesuvius, following the new lava, seemed
nearly to have reached Torre del Greco. While we were
studying the volcano through a glass, a tall man in Scotch
cap and flannel shirt came up, stopped, and addressed us
in Italian.
"You see that white house yonder on the cliff? "said
he ; "a Signore Inglese lives there. It's a nice place, a
beautiful situation. There's the place for the cows and
844 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
there are the columbaria, and all sorts of things. It's what
they call a quinta in Portugal."
" Is the P^nglishman married ? " I asked.
"I don't know," he replied ; " I believe there's a certain
woman in the house."
I handed him the glass, which he held to his eyes for
five minutes, without saying a word. Suddenly he broke
out in English : " Yes, as you say, the powdery appearance
the ah, the sudden change ! Boreal weather, you
know ; but the indications seem to me, having watched and
kept the thing in view, quite ah quite of your opin-
ion : "
I was speechless, as may easily be imagined ; and, before
I could guess what to reply, he handed me the glass, took
off his cap, said : " Here's hoping ah, wishing that we
may meet again perhaps!" and went off with tremen-
dous strides.
" Who is that, Augusto ? " I asked of the small Caprese
boy who carried our books and umbrellas.
" Un Signo' Inglese."
" Is anything the matter with him ? "
" _& un ptf pazzo " (a little cracked).
" Where does he live ? "*
" Yonder ! " said Augusto, pointing to the very house,
and place for the cows, and the columbaria, to which the
gentleman himself had called my attention. It was his
own house ! The " certain woman," I afterwards learned,
was his legal wife, a girl of Capri. As for himself, he
bears a name noted in literature, and is the near relative
of three authors.
Two pleasant girls kept us company a little further, and
then we went on alone, by a steep, slippery path, paved
with stone, between the poor little fields of fig and olive.
The patches of wheat were scarcely bigger than cottage
flower-beds, and in many places a laborious terrace sup-
ported only ground enough to produce a half-peck of grain.
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 346
Lupines and horse-beans are the commonest crop at this
season. Along our path bloomed " the daisy-star that
never sets," with anemone and golden broom. The Villa
Jovis was full in view, and not distant ; but the way first
led us to the edge of the cliffs on the southeastern side of
tEe island. From a rough pulpit of masonry we looked
down on the wrinkled sea near a thousand feet below.
The white-caps were but the tiniest sprinkles of silver on
its deep-blue ground.
As we mounted towards the eastern headland, the tremen-
dous walls of the western half of Capri rose bold and bright
against the sky ; but the arcs of the sea horizon, on either
side, were so widely extended that they nearly clasped be-
hind Monte Solaro. It was a wonderful, an indescribable
view ; how can I give it in words ? Here I met an old man.
in a long surtout, who stopped and conversed a minute in
French. He was a soldier of Napoleon, now the keeper of
a little restaurant at the Salto di Tiberio, and had just been
made happy by the cross and a pension. The restaurant
was opened by a peasant, and we passed through it to the
Salto. A protecting rampart of masonry enables you to
walk to the very brink. The rock falls a thousand feet,
and so precipitously that the victims flung hence must
have dropped into the waves. We looked directly across the
strait to the Cape of Minerva, and towards Salerno as well
as Naples. The snow-crowned Monte Sant' Angelo, rising
in the centre, gave the peninsula a broad pyramidal form
buttressed by the headlands on either side. The Isles of
the Sirens were full in view ; and. beyond them, the whole
curve of the Salernic gulf, to the far Calabrian cape of
Licosa The distance was bathed in a flood of airy gold,
and the gradations in the color of the sea, from pale ame-
thyst to the darkest sapphire below us, gave astonishing
breadth and depth to the immense perspective. But the
wind, tearing round the point in furious gusts, seemed try-
ing to snatch us over the rampart, and the hoiror of th
height became insupportable.
846 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
Much of the plan of the Villa Jovis may still be traced
As we approached the ruins, which commence a few pacea
beyond the Salto, a woman made her appearance, and
assumed the office of guide. " Here lived Timberio," said
she ; " he was a great man, a beautiful man, but 0, he was
a devil ! Down there are seven chambers, which you can
only see by a torch-light ; and here are the piscine, one for
salt water and one for fresh ; and now I'll show you the
mosaic pavement all made by Timberio. 0, the devil
that he was ! " Timberio is the favorite demon of the
people of Capri. I suspect they would not give him up for
any consideration. A wine of the island is called the " Tears
of Tiberius " (when did he ever shed any, I wonder ? ), just
as the wine of Vesuvius is called the Tears of Christ. When
I pointed to the distant volcano, whose plume of silver smoke
was the sign of the active eruption, and said to the woman,
" Timberio is at work yonder ! " she nodded her head, and
answered : " Ah, the devil ! to be sure he is."
We picked our way through the ruins, tracing three
stories of the palace, which must have been four, if not
five stories high on the land side. Some drums of marble
columns are scattered about, bits of stucco remain at the
bases of the walls ; there' is a corridor paved with mosaic,
descending, curiously enough, in an inclined plane, and the
ground-plan of a small theatre ; but the rubbish left does
not even hint of the former splendor. It is not one of those
pathetic ruins which seem to appeal to men for preserva-
tion ; it rather tries to hide itself from view, welcoming the
broom, the myrtle, and the caper-shrub to root-hold in its
masses of brick and mortar.
On the topmost platform of ruin is the little chapel of
Santa Maria del Soccorso, together with the hermitage of
a good-natured friar, who brings you a chair, offers you bits
of Tiberian marble, and expects a modest alms. Here I
found the wild Englishman, sitting on a stone bench beside
the chapel. He pointed over the parapet to the awful
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 347
precipice, and asked me : " Did you ever go over there ? 1
did once to get some jonquils. You know the rock-
jonquils are the finest." Then he took my glass, looked
through it at the distant shores, and began to laugh. f ' This
reminds me," said he, " of a man who was blown up with his
house several hundred feet into the air. He was immensely
frightened, when, all at once, he saw his neighbor's house
beside him blown up too. And the neighbor called out :
' How long do you think it will take us to get down again ?'
Cool wasn't it ? " Thereupon he went to the ladies of
the party, whom he advised to go to the marina, and see the
people catch shrimps. " It's a beautiful sight," he said.
" The girls are so fresh and rosy but, then, so are the
shrimps ! "
It is no lost time, if you sit down upon a block of marble
in the Villa Jovis, and dream a long, bewildering day-dream.
Here it is almost as much a riot for the imagination to
restore what once was, as to create what might be. The
temples of Minerva and Apollo, across the strait, were both
visible from this point. Looking over Capri, you place the
second palace of Tiberius on the summit of Monte Tuoro.
which rises against the sea on your right ; the third on the
southern side of the island, a little further ; the fourth on
Monte San Michele ; the fifth and sixth beyond the town
of Capri, near the base of the mountain wall. Roads con-
necting these piles of splendor cross the valleys on high
arches, and climb the peaks in laborious curves. Beyond
the bay, the headland of Misenum and the shores of Baise
are one long glitter of marble. Villas and temples crown
the heights of Puteoli, and stretch in an unbroken line to
Neapolis. Here the vision grows dim, but you know what
magnificence fills the whole sweep of the shore Portici
and Pompeii and Stabiae, growing visible again as the pal-
aces shine above the rocks of Surrenttim !
After the wonder that such things were, the next greatest
wonder is that they have so utterly vanished. What u
848 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
preserved is so fresh and solid that Time seems to have
done the least towards their destruction. The masonry of
Capri can scarcely have been carried away, while such
quarries still unexhausted were supplied by the main-
land ; and the tradition is probably correct, that the palaces
of Tiberius were razed to the ground immediately after his
fall. The charms of the island were first discovered by
Augustus. Its people were still Greek, in his day ; and it
belonged to the Greek Neapolis, to which he gave the larger
and richer Ischia in exchange for it. The ruins of the Villa
Jovis are supposed to represent, also, the site of his palace ;
and Tiberius, who learned diplomacy from the cunning
Emperor, and crime from the Empress, his own mother,
first came hither with him. A period > of twenty or thirty
years saw the splendors of Capri rise and fall. After
Tiberius, the island ceased to have a history.
Every walk on these heights, whence you look out far
over bays, seas, and shores, is unlike anything else in the
world. It is surprising what varieties of scenery are
embraced in this little realm. In the afternoon we saw
another phase of it on the southern shore, at a point
called the Marina Piccola. After passing below the town
and the terraced fields, we came upon a wild slope, grown
with broom and mastic and arbutus, among which cows
were feeding. Here the island shelves down rapidly be-
tween two near precipices. The wind was not felt ; the air
was still and warm, and the vast, glittering sea basked in the
sun. At the bottom we found three fishers' houses stuck
among the rocks, more like rough natural accretions than
the work of human hand ; a dozen boats hauled up on the
stones in a cove about forty feet in diameter ; and one soli-
tary man. Silence and savage solitude mark the spot. East-
ward, the Faraglioni rise in gray-red, inaccessible cones ;
the ramparts of the Castello make sharp, crenelated zigzags
on the sky, a thousand feet above one's head ; and only a
few olive-groves, where Monte Tuoro falls into the Val
A WEEK ON CAPRI.
Tragara, speak of cultivation. One might fancy himself to
be upon some lone Pacific island. The fisher told us thai
in tempests the waves are hurled entirely over the houses,
and boats in the cove are then dashed to pieces. But in
May, the quails, weary with their flight from Africa, land on
the slope above, and are caught in nets by hundreds and
thousands.
We had not yet exhausted the lower, or eastern half of
the island. Another morning was devoted to the Arco
Naturale, on the southern coast, between Monte Tuoro and
the Salto. Scrambling along a stony lane, between the
laborious terraces of the Capri farmers, we soon reached
the base of the former peak, where, completely hidden from
view, lay a rich circular basin of level soil, not more than a
hundred yards in diameter. Only two or three houses were
visible ; some boys, hoeing in a field at a distance, cried out,
" Signo', un baioc 1 ! " with needless iteration, as if the words
were a greeting. Presently we came upon a white farm-
house, out of which issued an old woman and four wild,
frouzy girls all of whom attached themselves to us, and
would not be shaken off.
We were already on the verge of the coast. Over the
jagged walls of rock we saw the plain of Paestum beyond
the sea, which opened deeper and bluer beneath us with
every step. The rich garden-basin and the amphitheatre
of terraced fields on Monte Tuoro were suddenly shut from
view. A perpendicular cliff of white rock arose on the
right ; and below some rough shelves wrought into fields
stood the Natural Arch, like the front of a shattered Gothic
cathedral. Its background was the sea, which shone through
the open arch. High up on the left, over the pointed crags,
stood a single rock shaped like a Rhine-wine beaker, hold-
ing its rounded cup to the sky. There is scarcely a wilder
view on Capri.
Following the rough path by which the people reach their
little fields, we clambered down the v ocks, along the brink
350 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
of steeps which threatened danger whenever the gusts of
wind came around the point. The frouzy girls were at hand,
and eager to help. When we declined, they claimed money
for having given us their company, and we found it prudent
to settle the bill at once. The slope was so steep that every
brink of rock, from above, seemed to be the last between us
and the sea. Our two boy-attendants went down somewhere,
out of sight; and their song came up through the roar of
the wind like some wild strain of the Sirens whose isles we
saw in the distance. The rock is grandly arched, with a
main portal seventy or eighty feet high, and two open
windows at the sides.
Half-way down the cliff on the right is the grotto of
Mitromania a name which the people, of course, have
changed into " Matrimonio," as if the latter word had an
application to Tiberius ! There were some two hundred
steps to descend, to a little platform of earth, under the
overhanging cliffs. Here the path dropped suddenly into
a yawning crevice, the floor of which was traversed with
cracks, as if ready to plunge into the sea which glimmered
up through them. Passing under the gloomy arch, we came
upon a chamber of reticulated Roman masonry, built in a
side cavity of the rock, which forms part of the main grotto
or temple of Mithras. The latter is about one hundred feet
deep and fifty wide, and opens directly towards the sunrise.
Antiquarians derive the name of the grotto from Magnum
Mithrce Antrum. There seems to be no doubt as to its
character : one can still perceive the exact spot where the
statue of the god was placed, to catch the first beams of his
own luminary, coming from Persia to be welcomed and
worshipped on the steeps of Capri. T-t is difficult to say
what changes time and earthquakes may not have wrought ;
but it seems probable that the ancient temple extended to
the front of the cliffs, and terminated in a platform hanging
over the sea. A Greek inscription found in this grotto
associates it both with the superstition and the cruelty of
A WEEK ON CAPBI. 851
Tiberius. I have not seen the original, which is in the
Museum at Naples, but here repeat it from the translation
of Gregorovius :
44 Ye who inhabit the Stygian land, beneficent demons.
Me, the unfortunate, take ye also now to your Hades,
Me, whom not the will of the gods, but the power of the Ruler,
Suddenly smote with death, which, guiltless, I never suspected.
Crowned with so many a gift, enjoying the favor of Caesar,
Now he destroyeth my hopes and the hopes of my parents.
Not fifteen have I reached, not twenty the years I have numbered,
Ah ! and no more I behold the light of the beautiful heavens.
Hypatos am I by name: to thee I appeal, my brother,
Parents, also, I pray you, unfortunate, mourn me no longer! "
A. human sacrifice is here clearly indicated. This mys-
terious cavern, with its diabolical associations, the giddy
horror of the Salto, and the traces of more than one con-
cealed way of escape, denoting the fear which is always
allied with cruelty, leave an impression which the efforts of
those historiasters who endeavor to whitewash Tiberius
cannot weaken with all their arguments. Napoleon was
one of his admirers, but his opinion on such matters is of
no great weight. When Dr. Adolf Stahr, however, devotes
a volume to the work of proving Tiberius to have been a
good and much-abused man, we turn to the pages of Sue-
tonius and the Spintrian medals, and are not convinced.
The comment of the old woman at the Villa Jovis will
always express the general judgment of mankind, " 0,
cAe diavolo era Timberio!"
If you^stand at the gate of the town, and look eastward
towards the great dividing wall, you can detect, on the
corner nearest the sea, the zigzag line of the only path
which leads up to Anacapri and the western part of the
island. One morning when the boy Manfred, as he brought
our coffee, told us that the tramontana had ceased blowing,
we sent for horses, to make the ascent. We had been
awakened by volleys of musketry ; the church-bells were
chiming, and there were signs of a festa, but Felice, the
B52 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
owner of the horses, explained the matter. Two young
men, manners of Capri, had recently suffered shipwreck on
the coast of Calabria. Their vessel was lost, and they only
saved their lives because they happened, at the critical
moment, to call on the Madonna del Carmine. She heard
and helped them : they reached home in safety, and on this
day they burned a lamp before her shrine, had a mass said
in their names, and invited their families and friends to
share in the thanksgiving. I heard the bells with delight,
for they expressed the poetry of superstition based on
truth.
We set out, in
" The halcyon mom
To hoar February born."
Indeed, such a day makes one forget tramontana, sirocco,
and all the other weather-evils of the Italian winter. Words
cannot describe the luxury of the air, the perfect stillness
and beauty of the day, and the far, illuminated shores of
the bay as they opened before us. We saw that the season
had turned, in the crocusses and violets which blossomed
beside the path the former a lovely pale-purple flower,
with fire-tinted stamens. With Felice came two little girls,
Luigia and -Serafina, the former of whom urged on a
horse, while the other carried on her head the basket of
provisions. Our small factotum, Augusto, took charge of
the bottles of wine, and Felice himself bore the shawls
and books. Beyond the town, the path wound between
clumps of myrtle, arbutus, and the delicate white erica,
already in bud. Under us lay the amphitheatre of vine-
yards and orange-groves ; and the town of Capri, behind,
stretching from San Michele to the foot of the Castello,
seemed a fortified city of the Middle Ages. Over the
glassy sea rose Vesuvius, apparently peaceful, yet with a
demon at work under that silvery cloud ; Monte St. Angelo,
snowy and bleak ; and the rich slopes of Sorrento and
Massa.
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 868
One of the giumente (as Felice called his horses) turned
on seeing the rocky staircase, and tried to escape. But it
was a sign of protest, not of hope. They were small, un
shod, very peaceful creatures, doomed to a sorry fate, but
they never had known anything better. Their horse-ideal
was derived from the hundred yards of Mnstony path below
Capri, and the few fresh turnips and carrots which they get
on holidays. It was, perhaps, a waste of sympathy to pity
them ; yet one inclines to pity beasts more readily than men.
At the foot of the staircase we dismounted, and prepared
to climb the giddy steep. There are five hundred and
sixty steps, and they will average more than a foot in
height. It is a fatiguing but not dangerous ascent, the
overhanging side being protected by a parapet, while the
frequent landings afford secure resting-places. On the
white precipices grew the blue " flower of spring " (jiore
della primaverd), and the air was sweet with odors of un-
known buds. Up and still up, we turned at each angle to
enjoy the wonderful aerial view, which, on such a morning,
made me feel half-fledged, with sprouting wings which ere-
long might avail to bear me across the hollow gulf. We
met a fellow with a splendid Roman head, whereon he was
carrying down to the marina the huge oaken Ijnee of some
future vessel. Surprised at the size of the timber, I asked
Felice whether it really grew upon the island, and he said
there were large oaks about and beyond Anacapri.
Half-way up, the chapel of Sant' Antonio stands on a
little spur, projecting from the awful precipices. Looking
down, you see the ruins of the Palazzo a' Mare of Tiberius,
the bright turquoise patches where the water is shallow,
and its purple tint in shadow. White sails were stretching
across from the headland of Sorrento, making for the Blue
Grotto. There were two more very long and steep flights
of steps, and then we saw the gate on the summit, arched
against the sky. Hanging from the rocks, but inaccessible,
were starry bunches of daffodils. It had seemed to me on
23
354 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
looking at the rocky walls from Capri, that an easier point
of ascent might have been chosen, and I believe it is settled
that Tiberius visited his four western palaces by a differ-
ent path ; but I now saw that the islanders (not possessing
despotic power) have really chosen the most accessible
point. The table-land beyond does not, as I had imagined,
commence at the summit of the cliffs, but far below them,
and this staircase strikes the easiest level.
There are few equal surprises on Capri. Not many
more steps, and we found ourselves on a rich garden-plain,
bounded on the left by stony mountains, but elsewhere
stretching away to sky and sea, without a hint of the tre-
mendous cliffs below. Indeed, but for the luminous, trem-
bling haze around the base of the sky, one would not sur-
mise the nearness of the sea, but rather think himself to
be in some inland region. The different properties are
walled, but there is no need of terraces. Shining white
houses, with domed roofs, stand in the peaceful fields. The
fruit-trees grow rank, huge oaks and elms with ivied trunks
rise above them, and the landscape breathes a sweet, idyllic
air. I noticed many cherry-trees of great size. The oaks,
though deciduous, still wore the green leaves of last sum-
mer, which will only be "pushed from the twigs when this
year's buds open. High over this pleasant land, on a bare
rock, are the towers of a mediaeval castle, now named after
Barbarossa the corsair, not the Emperor.
Presently we came to Anacapri, cleanest, most pictur-
esque and delightful of Italian villages. How those white
houses, with their airy loggias, their pillared pergolas, and
their trim gardens, wooed us to stay, and taste the delight
of rest, among a simple, beautiful, ignorant, and honest peo-
ple ! The streets were as narrow and shady as those of
my oriental city, and thii houses mostly presented a blank
side to them ; but there were many arches," each opening
on a sunny picture of slim, dark-haired beauties spinning
silk, or grandams regulating the frolics of children. The
A WEEK ON CAPBI. 356
latter, seeing us, begged for bajocchi ; and even the girls
Jid the same, but laughingly, with a cheerful mimicry of
mendicancy. The piazza of the village is about as large aa
the dining-room of a hotel. A bright little church occu-
pies one side ; and, as there was said to be a view from the
roof, we sent for the key, which was brought by three girls.
I made out the conjectured location of the ninth, tenth,
eleventh, and twelfth palaces of Tiberius, whereof only a
few stones remain, and then found that the best view was
that of the three girls. They had the low brow, straight
nose, short upper lip, and rounded chin which belongs to
the Caprese type of beauty, and is rather Hellenic than
Roman. Their complexion was dark, sunburnt rather than
olive, and there was a rich flush of blood on their cheeks ;
the eyes long and large, and the teeth white as the kernels
of fresh filberts. Their bare feet and hands, spoiled by
much tramping and hard work, were out of keeping with
their graceful, statuesque beauty. A more cheerful picture
of Poverty (for they are all miserably poor), it would be
difficult to find.
It was but a mile further to the headland of Damecuta.
Felice, however, advised us rather to visit the tower of
Lima, above the Punta della Carena, the northwestern
extremity of the island, and his advice proved to be good
in the end. We descended a stony steep into a little val-
ley, shaded by superb olive-groves, under which the crops
of lupines were already beginning to blossom. The dell
fell deeper as we advanced ; the grass was starred with red
anemones, and there were odors of concealed violets. A
mile further, we came upon a monastery, with a square,
crenelated tower, beyond which the fields gave place to a
narrow strip of stony down. All at once the shore yawned
beneath us, disclosing the extremity of the island, with
three deserted batteries on as many points of rock, a new
light-house, and the little cove where the troops of Murat
landed, when they surprised the English and recaptured
356 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
Capri, in 1808. Westward, there was a wide sweep of
sunny sea ; northward, Ischia, Procidu with its bright town,
Baiae and Pozzuoli. Here, at the foot of an old martellc
tower, we made our noon halt, relieving Serafina of the
weight of her basket, and Augusto of his bottles.
The children and young girls, going out to their work in
the fields, begged rather pertinaciously. " We are very
poor," they cried ; ' and you are so grand and beautiful you
can surely give us something." On the return, we met a
group of lively maidens coming up from Capri, who said,
when I told them there were no more bajocchi in my pock-
ets : " Well, then, give us a franc, and we will divide it
among us ! " Nevertheless, begging is not the nuisance
on Capri that it is on the main-land. It is always good-
humored, and refusal is never followed by maledictions.
The poor are positively and certainly poor, and they seem
to think it no shame to take what they can get over and
above their hard earnings. When one sees how very in-
dustrious and contented they are, it is rather a pleasure to
add a few coppers to the little store laid aside for their
holidays.
With every day, every hour, of our residence, we more
fully realized the grandeur and variety of the landscapes
of Capri. The week which I thought sufficient to enable
us to see the island thoroughly drew towards its close ; and
although we had gone from end to end of the rocky shores,
climbed all the principal peaks, and descended into every
dell and ravine, our enjoyment was only whetted, not ex-
hausted. The same scenes grow with every repetition.
There is not a path or crooked lane among the old houses,
irhich does not keep a surprise in reserve. The little
town, with only here and there a stone to show for the
Past, with no architectural interest whatever, is neverthe-
less a labyrinth of picturesque effects. In -the houses, all
the upper chambers are vaulted, and the roofs domed above
them as in the Orient ; while on one or more sides there
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 367
is a loggia or arched veranda, overhung with cornice of
grapevines, or gay with vases of blooming plants. Thick
walls, narrow windows, external staircases, palm-trees in
the gardens, and raised platforms of masonry placed so as
to catch the breezes of summer nights, increase the resem-
blance to the Orient. Living there, Syria seems to be
nearer than Naples.
In the Val Tragara, near the sea, there is a large de-
serted monastery, the Certosa, dating from the fourteenth
century. Here, as elsewhere, the monks have either picked
out the choicest spot for their abode or have made it beau-
tiful by their labor. The Certosa is still stately and im-
posing in its ruin. In the church the plaster is peeling off,
leaving patches of gay fresco on the walls and ceiling.
The sacristy and an adjoining chapel are riddled with can-
non-balls; and two recumbent marble statues of the foun-
ders, resting on their sarcophagi, look at each other from
opposite sides, and seem to wonder what the desolation
means. The noble court-yard, surrounded with arched cor-
ridors, is dug up for a garden ; there is straw and litter in
the crumbling cells ; and the prior's apartment, with its
wonderful sea and coast views, is without an occupant.
The garden only has not forgotten its former luxury. Its
vines and fig-trees equal those of Crete and Syria ; and its
cactuses have become veritable trees, twenty feet in height.
The monks succeeded in getting hold of the best land on
the island ; yet 1 have no doubt that the very people they
impoverished wish them back again.
The Caprese are very devout and superstitious. They
have two devils (" Timberio " being one), and a variety of
saints. The beautiful little church in the A own, external!)
so much like a mosque, is filled with votive offerings,
painted or modeled in wax, each of which has its own
story of miraculous interposition and escape. On one side
of the nave sits in state the Madonna del Carmine, a
life-sized doll, with fair complexion, blue eyes, and a pro.
358 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
fusion of long curling tresses of real blonde hair. In hei
lap she holds a dwarfish man, with hair of nearly equal
length. A dozen wax-candles were burning before her, in
anticipation of her coming festa, which took place before
we left Capri. She is the patron saint of the coral-fishers,
none of whom neglected to perform their share of the cel-
ebration.
The day was ushered in with volleys of musketry, and
the sounds, or rather cries, of the worst brass band I ever
heard, which went from house to house, blowing, and col-
lecting coppers. After the forenoon mass, the procession
was arranged in the church, and then set out to make the
tour of the town. First came the members of a confrater-
nity, mostly grizzly old men, in white gowns, with black
capes, lined with red ; then followed a number of small
boys, behind whom marched the coral-fishers, forty or fifty
in number brown, weather-beaten faces, burned by the
summers of the African coast. They were dressed with
unusual care, and their throats seemed ill at ease inside of
collar and cravat. Every one in the procession carried a
taper, which he shielded from the wind with the hollow left
hand, while his right managed also to collect the melted
wax. Next appeared the Madonna, on her litter of state,
followed by six men, who bore her silken canopy. In her
train were the priests, and about a hundred women and
girls brought up the rear.
Among the latter there were some remarkably lovely
faces. The mixture of yellow, blue, and scarlet colors
which they delight to wear contrasted brilliantly with the
glossy blackness of their hair and the sunny richness of
their complexion. The island costume, however, is begin-
ning to disappear. Only a few girls wore the mucadore, or
folded handkerchief, on the head, while several were grand
in wide silk skirts and crinolines. The people are not en-
vious, but many a longing glance followed those progres-
sive maidens.
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 369
In so small a domain as Capri, all that happens is known
to everybody. A private romance is not possible ; and so,
on this occasion, the crowd on the little piazza were moved
by a curiosity which had no relation to the Madonna del
Carmine. The story, as I received it, is this : Nearly a
year ago, the aunt of a beautiful girl who was betrothed to
one of the young coral-fishers was visited by an Englishman
then staying at the Hotel Tiberio, who declared to her his
violent love for the niece, and solicited her good offices to
have the previous engagement broken off. Soon after this
the Englishman left ; the aunt informed the girl's father of
the matter, the betrothal with the coral-fisher was sus-
pended, and the father spent most of his time in frequent-
ing the hotels to ascertain whether a rich young English-
man had arrived. A few days before our visit to Capri,
the girl received presents from her unseen and unknown
wooer, with a message requesting her not to appear in the
procession of the Madonna del Cnrmine. The Englishman
stated that he was at the Hotel Tiberio. and only waited
the arrival of certain papers in order to claim her as his
bride. Thereupon the father came to the hotel, but failed
to discover the mysterious stranger. Two artists, and
several ladies who were there, offered to assist him ; but
the mystery still remained unsolved. Other letters and
presents came to the girl ; but no young, rich Englishman
could be found on the island. The artists and ladies took
up the matter (determined, I am very glad to say, to drive
away the Englishman, if there were one, and marry the
girl to the coral-fisher), but T have not yet heard of any
denouement. The young fisher appeared in the procession,
but the girl did not ; consequently, everybody knew that the
mysterious letters and presents had made her faithless.
For my part, I hope the coral-fisher a bright, stalwart,
handsome young fellow will find a truer sweetheart.
After making the complete tour of the town, which oc-
cupied about half an hour, the procession returned to the
860 BY-WAYS OF EUBOPE.
church. The coral-fishers were grave and devout ; oue
could not question their sincerity. I was beginning to
find the scene touching, and to let my sympathy go fortL
with the people, when the sight of them dropping on their
knees before the great, staring doll of a Madonna, as sh
bobbed along on the shoulders of her bearers, turned all my
softness into granite. The small boys, carrying the tapers
before her, were employed in trying to set fire to each other's
shocks of uncombed hair. Two of them succeeded, and
the unconscious victims marched at least a dozen steps with
blazing heads, and would probably have been burned to
the scalp had not a humane by-stander extinguished the
unfragrant torches. Then everybody laughed ; the victims
slapped those who had set fire to them ; and a ridiculous
comedy was enacted in the very presence of the Madonna,
who, for a moment, was the only dignified personage. The
girls in the rear struck up a hymn without the least regard
to unison, and joked and laughed together in the midst of
it. The procession dissolved at the church door, and not
a moment too soon, for it had already lost its significance.
I have purposely left the Blue Grotto to the last, as for
me it was subordinate in interest to almost all else that I
saw. Still it was part of the inevitable programme. One
calm day we had spent in the trip to Anacapri, and another,
at this season, was not to be immediately expected. Never
theless, when we arose on the second morning afterwards
the palm-leaves hung silent, the olives twinkled withoul
motion, and the southern sea glimmered with the veiled
light of a calm. Vesuvius had but a single peaceful plume
of smoke, the snows of the Apulian Mountains gleamed
rosily behind his cone, and the fair headland of Sorrento
shone in those soft, elusive, aerial grays, which must be the
despair of a painter. It was a day for the Blue Grotto,
and so we descended to the marina.
On the strand, girls with disordered hair and beautiful
teeth offered shells and coral. We found mariners readily
A WEEK ON CAPBI. 361
and, after a little hesitation, pushed off in a large boat,
leaving a little one to follow. The tramontana had left a
faint swell behind it, but four oars carried us at a lively
speed along the shore. We passed the ruins of the baths
of Tiberius (the Palazzo a' Mare), and then slid into the
purple shadows of the cliffs, which rose in a sheer wall five
hundred feet above the water. Two men sat on a rock,
fishing with poles ; and the boats further off the shore were
sinking their nets, the ends of which were buoyed up with
gourds. Pulling along in the shadows, in less than half an
hour we saw the tower of Damecuta shining aloft, above a
slope of olives which descended steeply to the sea. Here,
under a rough, round bastion of masonry, was the entrance
to the Blue Grotto.
We were now transshipped to the little shell of a boat
which had followed us. The swell rolled rather heavily
into the mouth of the cave, and the adventure seemed a
little perilous, had the boatmen been less experienced. We
lay flat in the bottom ; the oars were taken in, and we had just
reached the entrance, when a high wave, rolling up, threat-
ened to dash us against the iron portals. " Look out ! "
cried the old man. The young sailor held the boat back
with his hands, while the wave rolled under us into the
darkness beyond ; then, seizing the moment, we shot in
after it, and were safe under the expanding roof. At first,
all was tolerably dark : I only saw that the water near the
entrance was intensely and luminously blue. Gradually,
as the eye grew accustomed to the obscurity, the irregular
vault of the roof became visible, tinted by a faint reflection
from the water. The effect increased, the longer we re-
mained ; but the rock nowhere repeated the dazzling sap-
phire of the sea. It was rather a blue-gray, very beautiful,
but far from presenting the effect given in the pictures
sold at Naples. The silvery, starry radiance ot foam or
bubbles on the shining blue ground was the loveliest phe-
nomenon of the grotto. To dip one's hand in the sea, and
362 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
scatter the water, was to create sprays of wonderful, phos-
phorescent blossoms, jewels of the Sirens, flashing and
vanishing garlands of the Undines.
3 O
A chamber, and the commencement of a gallery leading
somewhere, probably to the twelfth palace of Tiberius,
on the headland of Damecuta, were to be distinguished
near the rear of the cavern. But rather than explore fur-
ther mysteries, we watched our chance and shot out, after
a full-throated wave, into the flood of white daylight Keep-
ing on our course around the island, we passed the point of
Damecuta. making a chord to the arc of the shore, to
the first battery, beyond which the Anacapri territory
opened fairly to view. From the northern to the north-
western cape the coast sinks, like the side of an amphithea-
tre, in a succession of curving terraces, gray with the
abundant olive. Two deep, winding ravines, like the
wndies of Arabia, have been worn by the rainfall of thou-
sands of years, until they have split the shore-wall down to
the sea. Looking up them, we could guess the green banks
where the violets and anemones grew, and the clumps of
myrtle that perfumed the sea-breeze.
Broad and grand as was this view, it was far surpassed
by the coast scenery to come. No sooner had we passed
the pharos, and turned eastward along the southern shore
of the island, than every sign of life and laborious industry
ceased. The central mountain-wall, suddenly broken off
as it reached the sea, presented a face of precipice a thou-
sand feet high, not in a smooth escarpment, as on the
northern side, but cut into pyramids and pinnacles of ever-
changing form. Our necks ached with gazing at the far
summits, piercing the keen blue deeps of air. In one
place the vast gable of the mountain was hollowed into
arches and grottos, from the eaves of which depended
fringes of stalactite ; it resembled a Titanic cathedral in
ruins. Above the orange and dove-colored facets of the
cliff, the jagged topmost crest wore an ashen tint which no
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 368
longer suggested the texture of rock. It seemed rather a
soft, mealy substance, which one might crumble between
the fingers. The critics of the realistic school would damn
the painter who should represent this effect truly.
Under these amazing crags, over a smooth, sunny sea,
we sped along towards a point where the boatman said we
should find the Green Grotto. It lies inside a short, pro-
jecting cape of the perpendicular shore, and our approach
to it was denoted by a streak of emerald fire flashing along
the shaded water at the base of the rocks. A few more
strokes on the oars carried us under an arch twenty feet
high, which opened into a rocky cove beyond. The water
being shallow, the white bottom shone like silver ; and the
pure green hue of the waves, filled and flooded with the
splendor of the sun, was thrown upon the interior facings
of the rocks, making the cavern gleam like transparent
glass. The dance of the waves, the reflex of the " netted
sunbeams," threw ripples of shifting gold all over this
green ground ; and the walls and roof of the cavern, so
magically illuminated, seemed to fluctuate in unison with
the tide. It was a marvelous surprise, making truth of
Undine and the Sirens, Proteus and the foam-born Aphro-
dite. The brightness of the day increased the illusion, and
made the incredible beauty of the cavern all the more
startling, because devoid of gloom and mystery. It was
an idyl of the sea, born of the god-lore of Greece. To
the light, lisping whisper of the waves, the sound near-
est to that of a kiss, there was added a deep, dim, sub-
dued undertone of the swell caught in lower arches beyond ;
and the commencement of that fine posthumous sonnet of
Keats chimed thenceforward in my ears :
'* It keeps eternal whisperings around
Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell
Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell
Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound."
After this, although the same enormous piles of rock
864 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
overhung us, there were no new surprises. Thu sublimity
and the beauty of this southern coast had reached their
climax ; and we turned from it to lean over the gunwale
of the boat, and watch the purple growth of sponges
through the heaving crystal, as we drew into the cove of
the piccolo, marina. There A.ugusto was waiting our ar-
rival, the old fisher was ready with a bench, and we took
the upper side of Capri.
My pen lingers on the subject, yet it is time to leave.
When the day of our departure came, I wished for a tramon-
tana, that we might be detained until the morrow ; but no,
it was a mild sirocco, setting directly towards Sorrento, and
Antonio had come over, although, this time, without any
prediction of a fine day. At the last fatal and prosaic mo-
ment, when the joys that are over must be paid for, we found
Don Michele and Manfred as honest as they had been kind
and attentive. Would we not come back some time?
asked the Don. Certainly we will.
When the sail was set, and our foamy track pointed to
the dear isle we were leaving, I, at least, was conscious of a
slight heart-ache. So I turned once more and cried out,
"Addio, Capri!" but the stern Tiberian rocks did not
respond, Ritornate . " and so Capri passed into memory.
A TRIP TO ISCHIA.
THE island of Ischia, rising like a loftier Sa.amis at the
northern entrance of the Bay of Naples, is so unlike its op-
posite sentinel, Capri, that the landscape-painter, to whom
the peculiarities of mountain forms are as familiar as to
the geologist, would pronounce as readily on the diversity
of its origin. The latter might say : " This island is Plu-
tonic, that Neptunic ; " and the former : " Here are long,
finely broken outlines, and sharp, serrated summits ; yon-
der, broad masses and sudden, bold escarpments ; " but
both would express the same fact in different dialects.
The two islands are equidistant from the main land ; they
occupy the same relative position to the bay and to the
central Vesuvian peak ; they are equally noble land-marks
to the mariners coming from the Tyrrhene or the Ionian
Sea. Here the resemblance ends. Capri is the resort of
artists, Ischia of invalids. Tiberius and the Blue Grotto
belong to the litany of travel ; but Ischia larger, richer,
more accessible than Capri has no such special attrac-
tions to commend it. It must be sought for its own sake.
The little steamer upon which I embarked at Naples
was called the Tifeo, from Typhceus, the Titan who lies
buried under Epomeo, like Enceladus under Etna. The
decks were crowded ; but every face was Italian, and every
tongue uttered the broad, barbaric dialect of Southern
Italy. Priests, peasant-women, small traders, sailors, and
fishermen were mingled in a motley mass, setting their
faces together in earnest gossip, and turning their backs
upon sea, shore, and sky. As we passed Castell' dell' Ovo,
the siorns of the recent terrible land-slide on the rock of
o
Pizzofalcone drew their attention for a minute ; and I, too,
868 BY-WAYS OF EUBJPE.
looked with a shudder at the masses of rock under which
I had lived, unsuspectingly, until within three days of the
catastrophe. The house wherein we had chosen quarters
was crushed to atoms ; and, although nearly a month had
elapsed, the great pile of ruin was not yet cleared away.
Onward over the bright blue sea, past the shores of
Posilippo, the marine villa of Lucullus, and the terraced
steep, yonder, where the poet Silius Italicus kept sacred
the tomb of his master. Virgil, past the burnt-out crater
of Nisida, and the high, white houses of Pozzuoli, until the
bay of Baiae opens to the right, and we fetch a compass
for the ancient Cape Miseimm. How these names stir the
blood ! Yet my fellow-voyagers never lifted their eyes to
the shores ; and if they mentioned the names, it was, per-
haps, to say, " I bought some pigs at Baiae the other day,"
or, " What is land worth about Lake Avernus ? " or, " Do
you raise pumpkins at Cumae ? "
Between Cape Misenum and the island of Procida there
is a strait two or three miles in width. The town of Pro-
cida rests on the water like a long, white wedge, the butt of
which bears up the immense old fortress. Approaching
from Naples, the whole island lies before the loftier Ischia
like Imbros before Samothrace, and seems to belong to it,
as ancient geographers declare that it once did. The town
is like a seaport of the Grecian Archipelago, and, as seen
from the water, one could not wish it cleaner or less irreg-
ular. Fronting the sea, it presents a crescent of tall white
houses, broken with arched balconies, and deep, scattered
windows, and stained with patches of gray and moss-green.
Over the domed roofs rises here and there a palm. The
castle to the left, on its rock, rejoices in its ancient strength,
and seems to command the Bay of Gaeta as well as that of
Naples.
I tried to recall something of the history of Procida,
and struck in the middle of the thirteenth century on the
famous Giovanni, " John of Procida," before and after
A TBIP TO ISCHIA. 869
whom there was a blank. The island once belonged to
him in toto, and must have been a goodly possession. T
believe he lost it for a time, on account of the part which
he took in the Sicilian Vespers. Meanwhile the steamer
came to a stop in the little port, and boats crowded about
the gangways. I determined to go the length of the island
towards Ischia by land, and so scrambled down with the rest
I landed on a narrow quay, so filthy and malodorous that
1 made haste to accept the guidance of the first boy who
offered his services. He led me into a street just as bad ;
but, as we mounted towards the castle, the aspect of the
town improved. This is the only place in Italy where the
holiday costume is Greek, and one might therefore expect
to find faces of the Hellenic type ; yet such are fewer than
on Capri. The costume disappears more and more, and
only on grand festas do the women appear in bodices em-
broidered with gold, and gowns edged with the ancient
labyrinth pattern. They have splendid eyes, like all the
islanders ; but I saw no beauties in my rapid march across
Procida.
After the view from the castle, there is really nothing of
interest in the little town. The island is low and nearly
level, so that the high walls which inclose the road shut
out all view of its vineyards and gardens. The eastern
shore, near which my path led, is formed by three neighbor-
ing craters, the rims of which are broken down on the sea-
side, and boats anchor on the lava of the bottoms. The
road was almost a continuous street, the suburb of Procidd
running into that of the large village of L' Olmo. A crowd
of wayfarers went to and fro, and in all the open arches
women sat spinning in the sun. There were no beggars ;
one of the women, indeed, called across the road to another,
as I passed, " Ask him for a bajocco ! " but the latter
laughed, and turned her head aside. Although so little of
the island was to be seen, there was no end to the picture*
made by the windings of the road, the walls draped with
24
370 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
fern and ivy, the deep arches of shade with bright, sunlit
court-yards behind them, and the quaint terraces overhung
with vines.
A walk of two miles brought me to the western shore-
where the road descended to the fishing hamlet of Chiai-
olella. The place seemed to be deserted ; I walked be-
tween the silent old houses, and had nearly reached the
beach, when a brown old mariner glided out from the
shadow of a buttress, and followed me. Some boats lay on
the sand in the little land-locked crater-bay ; and presently
three other men, who had been sleeping somewhere in the
corners, came forward, scenting a fee. Of course they asked
too much ; but, to my surprise, they gradually abated the
demand, although there was no competition. The old man
said, very frankly, " If you give us a franc apiece, we shall
only make ten sous, and we should like to earn a little
more." We thereupon soon came to terms ; two of them
carried me into the boat, and we set off for Ischia.
Just beyond the last point of Procida rises the rocky
island of Vivara, which is nothing but a fragment left from
the ruin of a volcanic crater. Its one slanting side is
covered with olive-trees, and a single house stands on the
summit. The landing-place is a rocky shelf a yard or so in
width, only accessible when the sea is quite smooth. The
island belongs to Signer Scotti, of Procida, so the boatmen
told me, but he is too shrewd to live upon it. As we floated
past it into the open strait, the Bay of Gaeta opened broadly
on the right, stretching away to the far Cape of Circe,
beyond Terracina. In front Ischia, grand in its nearness,
possessed the sea. One is here still in Odyssean waters.
Here Homer once sailed, so sure as there ever was a
Homer, and heard Typhceus groaning under Inarime.
What Kinglake so finely says of the Troad is here equally
true. The theories of scholars go to the winds ; one learns
to believe in Homer, no less than in Moses.
The picture of Ischia, from the sea, is superb. In front
A TRIP TO ISCfflA. 371
towers the castle, on a thrice bolder and broader wedge of
rock than that of Procida ; withdrawn behind It, as if for
protection, the white crescent of the town sweeps along the
water ; garden-groves rise in the rear, then great, climbing
slopes of vine, and, high over all, Monte Epomeo converges
the broken outlines of the island, and binds them together
in his knotted peak. The main features are grandly broad
and simple, yet there is an exquisite grace and harmony in
the minor forms of the landscape. As we ran under the
shadows of the castle-rock, whereon the Marquis Pescara
was born, my thoughts were involuntarily directed to two
women, his sister, the heroic Costanza, whose defense of
the castle gave the governorship of Ischia to her family for
two hundred and fifty years ; and his wife, Vittoria Colonna.
Her, however, we remember less as the Marchesa Pescara
than as the friend of Michael Angelo, in whose arms she
died. Theirs was the only friendship between man and
woman, which the breath of that corrupt age did not dare
to stain, noble on both sides, and based on the taste and
energy and intellect of both. Vittoria, of whom Ariosto
says,
"Vittoria fc '1 nome; e ben conviensi a nata
Fra le vittorie,"
retired to this castle of Ischia to mourn her husband's
death. Strange that her sorrow excites in us so little
sympathy ; while, at this distance of time, the picture of
Michael Angelo after her death gives us a pang. Moral,
it is better to be the friend of a great artist than the wife of
a great general.
The landino- at Ischia is as attractive as that at Procida
o
is repulsive. The town conies down to the bright, sunny
quay in a broad, clean street ; the houses are massive, and
suggestive of comfort, and there are glimpses of the richest
gardens among them. " You must go to the locanda nobile,"
said the sailors ; and to make sure they went with me. It
is, in fact, the only tolerable inn in the place ; yet my first
372 BY- -WAYS OF EUROPE.
impression was not encouraging. The locanda consisted of
a large hall, filled with mattresses, a single bare bedroom,
and the landlord's private quarters. The only person I saw
was a one-eyed youth, who came every five minutes, while I
sat watching the splendid sunset illumination of the castle
and sea, to ask, " Shall I make your soup with rice or mac-
aroni ? " " Will you have your fish fried or in umido ? "
Notwithstanding all this attention, it was a most meagre
dinner which he finally served, and I longed for the flesh-
pots of Capri. In spite of Murray, artists are not stoics,
and where they go the fare is wont to be good. The Eng-
lish guide says, very -complacently : " Such or such an hotel
is third-rate, patronized by artists!" or, "The accommoda-
tions are poor ; but artists may find them sufficient '. " as if
" artists " had no finer habits of palate or nerves ! When I
contrasted Pagano's table in Capri with that of the nobile
locanda of Ischia, I regretted that artists had not been stay-
ing at the latter.
In walking through the two cold and barren rooms of the
hotel I had caught a glimpse, through an open door, of a
man lying in bed, and an old Franciscan friar, in a brown
gaberdine, hanging over him. Now, when my Lenten
dinner (although it was Carnival) was finished, the padrona
came to me, and said : " Won't you walk in and see Don
Michele ? He's in bed, sick, but he can talk, and it will
pass away the time for him."
" But the Frate " here I hesitated, thinking of extreme
unction.
" O, never mind the Frate," said the padrona ; " Don
Michele knows you are here, and he wants to have a talk
with you."
The invalid landlord was a man of fifty, who lay in bed,
groaning with a fearful lumbago, as he informed me. At
the foot of the bed sat the old friar, gray-headed, with a
snuffy upper lip, and an expression of amiable imbecility on
his countenance. The one-eyed servant was the landlord's
A TRIP TO ISCHIA. 378
son ; and there were two little daughters, one of whom.
Filoruena, carried the other, Maria Teresa. There was
also a son, a sailor, absent in Egypt. "Four left out of
twelve," said Don Michele ; " but you notice there will soon
be thirteen ; so I shall have five, if the Lord wills it."
" And so you are from America," he continued ; " my son
was there, but, whether in North or South, I don't know
They say there is cholera in Africa, and I hope the saints
will protect him from it. Here on Ischia as perhaps you
don't know we never had the cholera ; we have a saint
who keeps it away from the island. It was San Giuseppe
della Croce, and nobody can tell how many miracles he has
wrought for us. He left a miraculous plant, it's inside
the castle, and there it grows to this day, with wonderful
powers of healing ; but no one dares to touch it. If you
were to so much as break a leaf, all Ischia would rise in
revolution."
" What a benefit for the island ! " I remarked.
" Ah, you may well say that ! " exclaimed Don Michele.
" Here everything is good, the fish, the wine, the people.
There are no robbers among us, no, indeed ! You may
go where you like, and without fear, as the Frate will tell
you. This is my brother " (pointing to the friar). " I am
affiliated with the Franciscans, and so he comes to keep me
company."
The friar nodded, took a pinch of snuff, and smiled in the
vague, silly way of a man who don't know what to say.
" I have met many of your brethren in the Holy Land,"
I said, to the latter.
' Gran Dio ! you have been there ? " both exclaimed.
I must needs tell them of Jerusalem and Jericho, of
Nazareth and Tiberias ; but Don Michele soon came back
to America. " You are one of the nobility, I suppose ? " he
said.
" What ! " I answered, affecting a slight indignation j
"don't you know that we have no nobility? All are equal
374 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
before the law, and the poorest man may become the high-
est ruler, if he has the right degree of intelligence." (I was
about to add, and honesty, but checked myself in time.)
" Do you hear that ? " cried Don Michele to the friar.
I call that a fine thing."
" Che bella cosa ! " repeated the friar, as he took a fresh
pinch of snuff.
" What good is your nobility ? " I continued. " They
monopolize the offices, they are poor and proud, and they
won't work. The men who do the most for Italy are not
nobles."
" True ! true ! listen to that ! " said Don Michele. " And
so, in America, all have an equal chance ? "
" If you were living there," I answered, " your son, if he
had talents, might become the governor of a State, or a
minister to a foreign court. Could he be that here, what-
ever might be his intellect?"
" Gran Dio ! Che betta cosa ! " said the friar.
" It is the balance of Astraea ! " cried Don Michele, for-
getting his lumbago, and sitting up in bed. I was rather
astonished at this classical allusion ; but it satisfied me that
I was not improvidently wasting my eloquence ; so I went
on :
" What is a title ? Is a man any the more a man for
having it ? He may be a duke and a thief, and, if so, I put
him far below an honest fisherman. Are there titles in
heaven ? " Here I turned to the friar.
" Behold ! A noble a beautiful word ! " cried the Don
again. The friar lifted his hands to heaven, shook his head
in a melancholy way, and took another pinch of snuff.
We were in a fair way to establish the universal fraternal
republic, when a knock at the door interrupted us. It was
Don Michele's sister, accompanied by an old man, and a
young one, with a handsome but taciturn face.
" Ah, here is my figliuccio ! " said Don Michele, beckon-
ing forward the latter. " He will furnish a donkey, and
A TRIP TO ISCfflA. 875
guide you all over Ischia up to the top of Epomeo, to
Fori', and Casamich'."
Now I had particularly requested a young and jovial
fellow, not one of your silent guides, who always hurry you
forward when you want to pause, and seem to consider you
as a bad job, to be gotten rid of as soon as possible. Gio
vanni's was not the face I desired, but Don Michele in
sisted stoutly that he was the very man for me ; and so the
arrangement was concluded.
I went to bed. feeling more like a guest of the family
than a stranger; and, before sleeping, determined that I
would make an experiment. The rule in Italy is, that the
man who does not bargain in advance is inevitably cheated ;
here, however, it seemed that I had stumbled on an unso-
phisticated region. I would make no bargains, ask no mis-
trustful questions, and test the natural honesty of the
people.
Mounted on the ass, and accompanied by Giovanni, I left
the locanda nobile the next morning to make the tour of the
island. " Be sure and show him everything and tell him
everything ! " cried Don Michele, from his bed ; whereat
Giovanni, with a short " Yes ! " which promised nothing to
my ear, led the way out of the town.
We ascended the low hill on which the town is built,
under high garden walls, overhung by the most luxuriant
foliage of orange and olive. There were fine cypresses,
a tree rare in Southern Italy, and occasional palms. We
very soon emerged into the country, where Epomeo
towered darkly above us, in the shadow of clouds which
the sirocco had blown from the sea. The road was not
blinded by walls, as on Procida, but open and broad, wind-
ing forward between vineyards of astonishing growth.
Here the threefold crops raised on the same soil, about
Naples and Sorrento, would be impossible. In that rich
volcanic earth wheat is only the parterre or ground-floor of
tultivation. The thin shade of the olive, or the young
376 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
loaves of vine, do not intercept sun enough to hinder its
proper maturity ; and thus oil or wine (or sometimes both)
becomes a higher crop, a bel etage ; while the umbrella-
pines, towering far above all, constitute an upper story for
the production of lumber and firewood. Ischia has the
same soil, but the vine, on account of the superior quality
of its juice, is suffered to monopolize it. Stems of the
thickness of a man s leg are trained back and forth on
poles thirty feet high. The usual evergreen growths of
this region, which make a mimicry of summer, have no
place here ; far and wide, high and low, the landscape is
gray with vines and poles. I can only guess what a Bac-
chic labyrinth it must be in the season of vintage.
The few trees allowed to stand were generally fig or
walnut. There are no orange-groves, as about Sorrento,
for the reason that the wine of Ischia, being specially im-
ported to mix with and give fire and temper to other
Italian wines, is a very profitable production. The little
island has a population of about thirty thousand, very few
of whom are poor, like the inhabitants of Capri. During
my trip I encountered but a single beggar, who was an old
wt^nan on crutches. Yet, although the fields were gray,
the banks beside the road were bright with young grass,
and gay with violets, anemones, and the golden blossoms
of the broom.
On our left lay the long slopes of Mon^e Campagnano,
which presents a rocky front to the sea. Between this
mountain and Epomeo the road traversed a circular valley,
nearly a mile in diameter, as superbly rich as any of the
favored gardens of Syria. The aqueduct which brings
water from the mountains to the town of Ischia crosses it
on lofty stone arches. Beyond this valley, the path entered
a singular winding ravine thirty or forty feet in depth, and
barely wide enough for two asses to pass each other. Its
walls of rock were completely hidden in mosses and ferns,
and old oak-trees, with ivied trunks, threw their arms
A TRIP TO ISCHTA. 377
acix>ss it. The country people, in scarlet caps and velvet
jackets, on their way to enjoy the festa (the Carnival) at
the villages, greeted me with a friendly " buon dl! " I was
constantly reminded of those exquisitely picturesque passe."
of Arcadia, which seem still to be the haunts of Pan and
the Nymphs.
Bishop Berkeley, whose happiest summer (not even ex-
cepting that he passed at Newport) was spent on Ischia,
must have frequently travelled that path ; and, without
having seen more of the island, I was quite willing to ac-
cept his eulogies of its scenery. I had some difficulty,
however, in adjusting to the reality Jean Paul's imaginary
description, which it is conventional to praise, in Germany.
The mere enumeration of orange-trees, olives, rocks, chest-
nut woods, vines, and blue sea, blended into a glimmering
whole, witn no distinct outlines, does not constitute de-
scription of scenery. An author ventures upon dangerous
ground, when he attempts to paint landscapes which he has
never seen. Jean Paul had the clairvoyant faculty of the
poet, and was sometimes able to " make out " (to use Char-
lotte Bronte's expression) Italian atmospheres and a tol-
erable dream of scenery ; but he would have described Is-
chia very differently if he had ever visited the island.
Winding on and upward through the ravine, I emerged
at last on the sunny hillside, whence there was a view of
the sea beyond Monte Campagnano. A little further, we
reached the village of Barano, on the southeastern slope
of Epomeo a deep, gray gorge below it, and another vil-
lage beyond, sparkling in the sun. The people were con-
gregated on the little piazza, enjoying the day in the com-
pletest idleness. The place was a picture in itself, and 1
should have stopped to sketch it, but Giovanni pointed to
the clouds which were hovering over Epomeo, and pre-
dicted rain. So T pushed on to Moropano, the next vil-
lage, the southern side of the island opening more clearly
and broadly to view. A succession of vine-terrace*
378 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
mounted from fte sea to a height of two thousand
ceasing only under the topmost crags. At intervals, how-
ever, the slopes were divided by tremendous fissures, worn
hundreds of feet deep through the ashen soil and volcanic
rock. Wherever a little platform of shelving soil had been
left on the sides of the sheer walls, it was covered with a
growth of oaks.
The road obliged me to cross the broadest of these
chasms, and, after my donkey had once fallen on the steep
path notched along the rock, I judged it safest to climb
the opposite side on foot. A short distance further we
came to another fissure, as deep but much narrower, and
resembling the cracks produced by an earthquake. The
rocky walls were excavated into wine-cellars, the size of
which, and of the tuns within, gave good token^of the Ts-
chian vintages. Out of the last crevice we climbed to the
village of Fontana, the highest on the island. A review
of the National Guards was held in a narrow open space
before the church. There were perhaps forty men fish-
ermen and vine-growers under arms, all with military
caps, although only half a dozen had full uniforms. The
officers fell back to make room for me, and I passed the
company slowly in review, as I rode by on the donkey.
The eyes were " right," as I commenced, but they moved
around to left, curiously following me, while the heads re-
mained straight. Gallant-looking fellows they were never-
theless ; and moreover, it was pleasant to see a militia
system substituted for the former wholesale conscription.
At the end of the piazza, a dry laurel-bush hanging over
the door, denoted a wine-shop ; and Giovanni and I emp-
tied a bottle of the Fontana vintage before going further. I
ordered a dinner to be ready on our return from Epomeo,
and we then set out for the hermitage of San Nicola, on the
very summit. In a ravine behind the village we met a man
carrying almost a stack of straw on his head, his body so
concealed by it that the mass seemed to be walking upon
A TRIP TO ISCHIA. 37*
its own feet. It stopped on approaching us, and an unin-
telligible voice issued 'from it; but Giovanni understood
the sounds.
" The hermit of San Nicola is sick," he said ; " this is his
brother."
" Then the hermit is a'one on the mountain ? " I asked.
" No, he is now in Fontana. When he gets sick, he
comes down, and his brother goes up in his place, to keep
the lamp a-burning." /
We were obliged to skirt another fissure for some dis-
tance, and then took to the open side of the mountain,
climbing between fields where the diminishing vines strug-
gled to drive back the mountain gorse and heather. In
half an hour the summit was gained, and I found myself in
front of a singular, sulphur- colored peak, out of which a
chapel and various chambers had been hewn. A man ap
peared, breathless with climbing after us, and proved to be
the moving principle of the straw-stack. He unlocked a
door in the peak, and allowed the donkey to enter ; then,
conducting me by a passage cut in the living rock, he led
the way through, out of the opposite side, and by a flight
of rude steps, around giddy corners, to a platform about six
feet square, on the very topmost pinnacle of the island,
2,700 feet above the sea.
Epomeo was an active volcano until just before Vesuvius
awakened, in A. D. 79 ; and as late as the year 1302 there
was an eruption on Ischia, at the northern base of the
mountain. But the summit now scarcely retains the crater
form. The ancient sides are broken in, leaving four or five
jagged peaks standing apart ; and these, from the platform
on which I stood, formed a dark, blasted foreground, shaped
like a star with irregular rays, between which I looked down
and off on the island, the sea, and the Italian shores. The
clouds, whose presence I had lamented during the ascent,
now proved to be marvelous accessories. Swooping so low
that their skirts touched me, they covered the whole vault
880 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
of heaven, down to the sea horizon, with an impenetrable
veil ; vet, beyond their sphere, the sunshine poured full upon
the water, which became a luminous under-sky, sending the
reflected light upward on the island landscape. In all my
experience, I have never beheld such a phenomenon.
Looking southward, it was scarcely possible not to mistake
the sea for the sky ; and this illusion gave the mountain an
immeasurable, an incredible height. All the base of the
island the green shores and shining towns visible in
deep arcs between the sulphury rocks of the crater
basked in dazzling sunshine ; and the gleam was so intense
and golden under the vast, dark roof of cloud, that I know
not how to describe it. From the Cape of Circe to that of
Palinurus, two hundred miles of the main-land of Italy were
full in view. Vesuvius may sweep a wider horizon, but the
view from Epomeo, in its wondrous originality, is far more
impressive.
When I descended from the dizzy pinnacle, I found
Giovanni and the hermit's brother drying their shirts
before a fire of brush. The latter, after receiving a fee for
his services, begged for an additional fee for St. Nicholas.
" What does St. Nicholas want with it ? " I asked. " You
will buy food and drink, I suppose, but the saint needs
nothing." Giovanni turned away his head, and I saw that
he was laughing.
" 0, I can burn a lamp for the saint," was the answer.
Now, as St. Nicholas is the patron of children, sailors,
and travellers, I might well have lit a lamp in his honor ;
but as I could not stay to see the oil purchased and the
lamp lighted, with my own eyes, I did not consider that
there was sufficient security in the hermit's brother for
such an investment.
When I descended to Fontana the review was over, and
several of the National Guards were refreshing themselves
in the wine-shop. The black-bearded host, who looked like
an affectionate bandit, announced that he had cooked a pig's
A TBIP TO ISCHIA. 881
liver for us, and straight-way prepared a table in the shop
beside the counter. There was but one plate, but Giovanni,
whc kept me company, ate directly from the dish. I have
almost a Hebrew horror of fresh pork ; but since that day I
confess that a pig's liver, roasted on skewers, and flavored
with the smoke of burning myrtle, is not a dish to be de-
spised.- Eggs and the good Ischian wine completed the re-
past ; and had I not been foolish enough to look at the host
as he wiped out the glasses with his unwashed fingers, I
should have enjoyed it the more.
The other guests were very jolly, but I could comprehend
little of their jargon when they spoke to each other. The
dialect of Ischia is not only different from that of Capri, but
varies on different sides of the island. Many words are
identical with those used on Sardinia and Majorca ; they
have a clear, strong ring, which barbaric as it may be
I sometimes prefer to the pure Italian. For instance,
freddo (with a tender lingering on the double rf) suggests
to me only a bracing, refreshing coolness, while in the
Ischian frett one feels the sharp sting of frost. Filicaja's
pathetic address to Italy,
" Deh fossi tu men bella, o almen piii forte I "
might also be applied to the language. The elision of the
terminal vowels, which is almost universal in this part of
Italy, roughens the language, certainly, but gives it a more
masculine sound.
When the people spoke to me, they were more careful in
the choice of words, and so made* themselves intelligible.
They were eager to talk and ask questions, and after one
of them had broken the ice by pouring a bottle of wine into
a glass, while he drank from the latter as fast as he poured,
the Captain of the Guard, with many apologies for the
liberty, begged to know where I came from.
" Now tell me, if you please." he continued, " whethel
your country is Catholic or Protestant?"
382 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
" Neither," said I ; "it is better than being either."
The people pricked up their ears, and stared. " How do
you mean ? " some one presently asked.
" All religions are free. Catholics and Protestants have
equal rights ; and that is best of all is it not?"
There was a unanimous response. " To be sure that is
best of all ! " they cried ; " avete ragione"
" But," said the Captain, after a while, " what religion is
your government ? "
" None at all," I answered.
" I don't understand," said he ; " surely it is a Christian
government"
It was easy to explain my meaning, and I noticed that
the village magistrate, who had entered the shop, listened
intently. He was cautiously quiet, but I saw that the idea
of a separation of Church and State was not distasteful to
the people. From religion we turned to politics, and I gave
them a rough sketch of our republican system. Moreover,
as a professed friend of Italian nationality, I endeavored to
sound them in regard to their views of the present crisis.
This was more delicate ground; yet two or three spoke
their minds with tolerable plainness, and with more judg-
ment and moderation than I expected to find. On two
points all seemed to be agreed, that the people must be
educated, aud must have patience.
In the midst of the discussion a mendicant friar appeared,
barefooted, and with a wallet on his shoulder. He was a
man of thirty, of tall aud stately figure, and with a singu-
larly noble and refined countenance. He did not beg, but
a few bajocchi were handed to him, and the landlord placed
a loaf of bread on the counter. As he was passing me,
without asking alms. I gave him some money, which he
took with a slight bow and the words, " Providence will
requite you." Though so coarsely dressed, he was not one
of those friars who seem to think filth necessary to their
holy character. I have rarely seen a man whose features
A TRIP TO ISCHIA.
nd bearing harmonized so ill with his vocation. He looked
like a born teacher and leader ; yet he was a useless beggar.
The rain, which had come up during dinner, now cleared
away, and I resumed my journey. Giovanni, who had made
one or two desperate efforts at jollity during the ascent of
the mountain, was remarkably silent after the conversation
in the inn, and I had no good of him thenceforth. A mis-
trustful Italian is like a tortoise ; he shuts up his shell, and
crow-bars can't open him. I have not the least doubt that
Giovanni believed, in his dull way, in the temporal power
of the Pope and the restoration of the Bourbons.
There were no more of the great volcanic fissures to be
crossed. The road, made slippery by the rain, descended
so rapidly that I was forced to walk during the remainder
of the day's journey. It was a country of vines, less pic-
turesque than I had already passed ; but the sea and south-
western shore of the island were constantly in view. I first
reached the little village of Serrara, on a projecting spur of
Epomeo ; then, after many steep and rugged descents, came
upon the rich garden-plain of Panza. Here the surface of
the island is nearly level, the vegetation is wonderfully
luxuriant, and the large gray farm-houses have a stately
and commanding air. In another hour, skirting the west-
ern base of Epomeo, the towers of Foria, my destination for
the night, came into view. There were some signs of the
Carnival in the lively streets here and there a mask,
followed by shouting and delighted children; but the
greater part of the inhabitants contented themselves with
sitting on the doorsteps and exchanging jokes with their
neighbors.
O
The guide-book says there is no inn in Foria. Don
Michele, however, assured me that Signor Scotti kept a
locanda for travellers, and I can testify that the Don is
right. I presume it is " noble," also, for the accommoda-
tions were like those in Ischia. On entering, I was re-
ceived by a woman, who threw back her shoulders and
384 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE,
lifted her head in such an independent way that I asked,
" Are you the padrona ? "
" No," she answered, laughing ; " I'm the modestica ; but
that will do just as well." (She meant domestica, but I like
her rendering of the word so well that I shall retain it)
" Can you get me something for dinner ? "
'' Let us see," said she, counting upon her fingers ; " fish,
that's one ; kid, that's two ; potatoes, that's three ; and
and surely there's something else."
" That will do," said I ; " and eggs ? "
" Sicuro ! Eggs ? I should think so. And so that will
suit your Excellency ! "
Thereupon the modestica drew back her shoulders, threw
out her chest, and, in a voice that half Foria might have
heard, sang I know not what song of triumph as she de-
scended to the kitchen. Signer Scotti, for whom a messen-
ger had been sent, now arrived. He had but one eye, and
I began to imagine that I was on the track of the Arabian
Prince. After a few polite commonplaces, I noticed that
he was growing uneasy, and said, " Pray, let me not keep
you from the Carnival."
" Thanks to your Excellency," said he, rising ; " my pro-
fession calls me, and wih your leave I will withdraw." I
supposed that he might be a city magistrate, but on ques-
tioning the modestica, when she came to announce dinner,
I found that he was a barber.
I was conducted into a bedroom, in the floor of which the
modestica opened a trap-door, and bade me descend a pre-
cipitous flight of steps into the kitchen. There the table
was set, and I received my eggs and fish directly from the
fire. The dessert was peculiar, consisting of raw stalks of
anise, cut off at the root, very tough, and with a sickly sweet
flavor. Seeing that I rejected them, the modestica ex-
claimed, in a strident voice,
" Eh ? What would you have ? They are beautiful,
they are superb ! The gentry eat them, nay, what do 1
A TRIP TO ISCHIA. 385
know ? the King himself, and the Pope ! Behold ! "
And with these words she snatched a stalk from the plate>
and crunched it between two rows of teeth which it was
a satisfaction to see. .,,,
Half an hour afterwards, as I was in the bedroom which
had been given to my use, a horribly rough voice at my back
exclaimed. '* What do you want ? "
I turned, and beheld an old woman as broad as she was
short, a woman with fierce eyes and a gray mustache on
her upper lip.
" What do you want ? " I rejoined.
She measured me from head to foot, gave a grunt, and
said, " I'm the padrona here."
I was a little surprised at this intrusion, and considerably
more so, half an hour afterwards, as I sat smoking in the
common room, at the visit of a gendarme, who demanded
my passport. After explaining to him that the document
had never before been required in free Italy, that the law
did not even oblige me to carry it with me, I handed it to
him.
He turned it up and down, and from side to side, with a
puzzled air. " I can't read it," he said, at last.
" Of course you can't," I replied ; " but there is no better
passport in the world, and the Governor of Naples will tell
you the same thing. Now," I added, turning to the padrona,
" if you have sent for this officer through any suspicion of
me, I will pay for my dinner and go on to Casamicciola,
where they know how to receive travellers."
The old woman lifted up her hands, and called on the
saints to witness that she did not mistrust me. The gen-
darme apologized for his intrusion, adding : " We are out
of the way, here, and therefore I am commanded to do this
duty. I cannot read your passport, but I can see that you
are a galaniuomo."
This compliment obliged me to give him a cigar, after
which I felt justified in taking a little revenge. " I am n
25
386 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE
republican," I cried, " and a friend of the Italian Republi-
cans ! I don't believe in the temporal power of the Pope
I esteem Garibaldi ! "
" Who doesn't esteem him ? " said the old woman, but
with an expression as if she didn't mean it The gendarme
twisted uneasily on his seat, but he had lighted my cigar,
ind did not feel free to leave.
I shall not here repeat my oration, which spared neither
the Pope, nor Napoleon the Third, nor even Victor Kman-
uel. I was as fierce and reckless as Mazzini, and exhausted
my stock of Italian in advocating freedom, education, the
overthrow of priestly rule, and the abolition of the nobility.
When I stopped to take breath, the gendarme made his
escape, and the padrona's subdued manner showed that she
began to be afraid of me.
In the evening there was quite an assemblage in the
room, two Neapolitan engineers, a spruce young Forian,
a widow with an unintelligible story of grievances, and the
never-failing modestica, who took her seat on the sofa, and
made her tongue heard whenever there was a pause. I grew
so tired with striving to unravel their dialect, that I fell
asleep in my chair, and .nearly tumbled into the brazier of
coals ; but the chatter went on for hours after I was in bed.
In the heavenly morning that followed I walked about the
town, which is a shipping port of wine. The quay was piled
with tuns, purple-stained. The situation of the place, at the
foot of Epomeo, with all the broad Tyrrhene sea to the west-
ward, is very beautiful, and, as usual, a Franciscan monas-
tery has usurped the finest position. No gardens can be
richer than those in the rear, mingling with the vineyards
that rise high on the mountain slopes.
After the modestica had given me half a tumbler of coffee
and a crust of bread for my breakfast, I mounted the donke^,
and set out for Casamicciola. The road skirts the sea for a
short distance, and then enters a wild dell, where I saw
clumps of ilex for the first time on the island. After a mile
A TRIP TO ISCfflA. 381
of rugged, but very beautiful, scenery, the dell opened or
the northern shore of Ischia, and I saw the bright towr
and sunny beach of Lacco below me. There was a sudden
and surprising change in the character of the landscape.
Dark, graceful carob-trees overhung the road ; the near
gardens were filled with almonds in light green leaf, and
orange-trees covered with milky buds ; but over them, afar
and aloft, from the edge of the glittering sapphire to the
sulphur-crags of the crowning peak, swept a broad, grand
amphitheatre of villas, orchards, and vineyards. Gayly
colored palaces sat on all the projecting spurs of Epomeo,
rising above their piles of garden terraces ; and, as I rode
along the beach, the palms and cypresses in the gardens
above me were exquisitely pencilled on the sky. Here
everything spoke of old cultivation, of wealth and luxurious
days.
In the main street of Lacco I met the gendarme of
Foria, who took off his cocked hat with an air of respeci,
which, however, produced no effect on my donkey-man ;
Giovanni. We mounted silently to Casamicciola, which,
as a noted watering-place, boasts of hotels with Neapolitan
prices, if not comforts. I felt the need of one, and selected
the Sentinella Grande on account of its lordly position. It
was void of guests, and I was obliged to wait two hours for
a moderate breakfast. The splendor of the day, the per-
fect beauty of the Ischian landscapes, and the soft hum-
ming of bees around the wall-flower blossoms, restored my
lost power to enjoy the dolce far niente, and I had forgotten
all about my breakfast when it was announced.
From Casamicciola it is little more than an hour's ride
to Ischia, and my tour of the island lacked but that much
of completion. The season had not commenced, and the
marvelous healing fountains and baths were deserted ; yet
the array of stately villas, the luxury of the gardens, and
the broad, well-made roads, attested the popularity of the
watering-place. Such scenery as surrounds it is not sur-
888 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
passed by any on the Bay of Naples. I looked longinglj
up at the sunny mountain-slopes and shadowed glens, as I
rode away. What I had seen was but the promise, the
hint, of a thousand charms which I had left unvisited.
On the way to Ischia I passed the harbor, which is a
deep little crater connected with the sea by an artificial
channel. Beside it lies the Casino Reale, with a magnifi-
cent park, uninhabited since the Bourbons left. Beyond
it I crossed the lava-fields of 1302, which are still unsub-
dued. Here and there a house has been built, some pines
have been planted, clumps of broom have taken root, and
there are a few rough, almost hopeless, beginnings of fields.
Having passed this dreary tract, the castle of Ischia sud-
denly rose in front, and the bright town received me. I
parted from the taciturn Giovanni without tears, and was
most cordially welcomed by Don Michele, his wife, the one-
eyed son, and the Franciscan friar. The Don's lumbago
was not much better, and the friar's upper lip, it seemed to
me, was more snuffy than ever.
In the evening I heard what appeared to be a furious
altercation. I recognized Don Michele's voice, threaten-
ing vengeance, at its highest pitch, while another voice,
equally excited, and the screams of women, gave additional
breath to the tempest. But when I asked my one-eyed
servitor, " What in Heaven's name has happened ? " he
mildly answered, " O, it's only the uncle discoursing with
papa ! "
I arose at dawn, the next day, to take the steamer for
Naples. The flaming jets of Vesuvius, even against the
glowing morning sky, were visible from my window, twenty-
five miles distant. I was preparing to bid farewell to
Ischia with a feeling of profund satisfaction. My experi-
ment had succeeded remarkably well. I had made no
bargains in advance, and had not been overcharged to the
extent of more than five francs during the whole trip.
But now came the one-eyed son, with a bill fifty per cent
J TRIP TO ISCHIA.
i
higher than at first, for exactly the same accommodation.
This, too, after I had promised to send my friends to the
locanda nofrile, and he had written some very grotesque
cards, which I was to disseminate.
Don Michele was calling me to say good-by. I went to
his chamber, and laid the grotesque cards upon the bed.
" Here ! " I exclaimed ; " I have no use for these. I shall
recommend no friends of mine to this hotel. You ask
another price now for the same service."
The Don's countenance fell. " But we kept the same
room for you," he feebly urged.
" Of course you kept it," I said, "because you have no
other, and nobody came to take it ! This is not the bal-
ance of Astraea ! You lament over the condition of Italy,
you say she has fallen behind the other nations of
Europe, and here is one of the causes ! So long as you,
and the people of whom you are one, are dishonest, so
long as you take advantage of strangers, just so long will
you lack the order, the security, the moral force which
every people possess who are ashamed to descend to such
petty arts of cheating ! "
" Ma Signore ! " pleaded Don Michele.
" It is true ! " I continued ; " I, who am a friend of Italy,
say it to you. You talk of corruption in high places,
begin your reforms at home ! Learn to practice common
honesty; teach your children to doit; respect yourselves
sufficiently to be above such meanness, and others will re-
spect you. What were my fine, my beautiful words worth
to you ? I thought I was sowing seed on good ground "
" Signore, Signore, hear me ! " cried the Don.
" I have only one word more to say, and that is Addio
and not a rivederci ! I am going, and I shall not corm
back again."
Don Michele jumped up in bed, but I was already at the
door. I threw it open, closed it behind me, and dashed
down the stairs. A faint cry of " Signore ! " followed me-
390 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
In two minutes more I was on the pier, waiting foi the
steamer to come around the point from Casamicciola. The
sweet morning air cooled my excitement, and disposed me
to gentler thoughts. I fancied Don Michele .in his bed,
mortified and repentant, and almost regretted that I had
not given him a last chance to right himself in my eyes.
Moreover, reviewing the incidents of my trip, I was amused
at the part which I had played in it. Without the least
intent or premeditation, I had assumed the character of a
missionary of religious freedom, education, and the Univer-
sal Republic. But does the reader suppose that I imagine
any word thus uttered will take root, and bring forth fruit,
that any idea thus accidentally planted will propagate
itself further ?
No, indeed!
THE LAND OF PAOLI.
THE Leghorn steamer slid smoothly over the glassy T/r
rhene strait, and sometime during the nigl.t came to an-
chor in the harbor of Bastia. I sat up in my berth at sun-
rise, and looked out of the bull's eye to catch my first near
glimpse of Corsican scenery ; but, instead of that, a pair
of questioning eyes, set in a brown, weather-beaten face,
met my own. It was a boatman waiting on the gangway,
determined to secure the only fare which the steamer had
brought that morning. Such persistence always succeeds,
and in this rase justly ; for when we were landed upon the
quay, shortly afterwards, the man took the proffered coin
with thanks, and asked for no more.
Tall, massive houses surrounded the little circular port
An old bastion on the left, perhaps that from which thfc-
place originally took its name, a church ID front, and
suburban villas and gardens on the shoulders of the steep
mountain in the rear, made a certain impression of pride
and stateliness, notwithstanding the cramped situation of
the city. The Corsican coast is here very bold and abrupt,
and the first advantage of defense interferes with the pres-
ent necessity of growth.
At that early hour few persons were stirring in the
streets. A languid officer permitted us to pass the douane
and sanitary line ; a large-limbed boy from the mountains
became a porter for the nonce ; and a waiter, not full}
awake, admitted us into the ^ Hotel d'Europe," a building
with more space than cleanliness, more antiquated furni-
ture than comfort. It resembled a dismantled palace
huge, echoing, dusty. The only tenants we saw then, or
later, were the waiter aforesaid, who had not yet learned
394 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
the ordinary wants of a traveller, and a hideous old woman,
who twice a day deposited certain oily and indescribable
dishes upon a table in a room which deserved the name of
manger, in the English sense of the word.
However, I did not propose to remain long in Bastia ,
Corte, the old capital of Paoli, in the heart of the island,
was my destination. After ascertaining that a diligence
left for the latter place at noon, we devoted an hour or two
to Bastia. The breadth and grandeur of the principal
streets, the spacious new place with a statue of Napoleon
in a Roman toga, the ample harbor in process of con-
struction to the northward, and the fine coast-views from
the upper part of the city, were matters of surprise. The
place has grown rapidly within the past fifteen years, and
now contains twenty-five thousand inhabitants. Its ge-
graphical situation is good. The dagger-shaped Cape
Corso, rich with fruit and vines, extends forty miles to the
northward ; westward, beyond the mountains, lie the fortu-
nate lands of Nebbio and the Balagna, while the coast
southward has no other harbor for a distance of seventy
r eighty miles. The rocky island of Capraja, once a
menace of the Genoese, rises over the sea in the direction
of Leghorn ; directly eastward, and nearer, is Elba, and
far to the southeast, faintly seen, Monte Cristo, the three
representing mediaeval and modern history and romance,
and repeating the triple interest which clings around the
name of Corsica.
The growth of Bastia seems to have produced but little
effect, as yet, on the character of the inhabitants. The\
have rather the primitive air of mountaineers ; one looks
in vain for the keenness, sharpness, and, alas ! the dishon-
esty, of an Italian seaport town. Since the time of Seneca,
who, soured by exile, reported of them,
'" Prima est ulcisci lex, altera vivere rapt a,
Tertia ment? -i, quarta negare Deos, "
the Corsicans have no* been held in good repute. Yet GUI
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 396
first experience of them was by no means unprepossessing
We entered a bookstore, to get a map of the island
While I was examining it, an old gentleman, with the Le
gion of Honor in his button-hole, rose from his seat, took
the sheet from my hands, and said : " What's this ? what's
this?" After satisfying his curiosity, he handed it back to
me, and began a running fire of questions : " Your first
visit to Corsica ? You are English ? Do you speak Italian :
your wife also ? Do you like Bastia ? does she also ? How
long will you stay ? Will she accompany you ? " etc. I an-
swered with equal rapidity, as there was nothing obtrusive
in the old man's manner. The questions soon came to an
end, and then followed a chapter of information and advice,
which was very welcome.
The same naive curiosity met us at every turn. Even
the rough boy who acted as porter plied me with questions,
yet was just as ready to answer as to ask. I learned much
more about his situation and prospects than was really nec-
essary, but the sum of all showed that he was a fellow
determined to push his way in the world. Self-confidence
is a common Corsican trait, which Napoleon only shared
with his fellow-islanders. The other men of his time who
were either born upon Corsica or lived there for a while
Pozzo di Borgo, Bernadotte, Massena, Murat, Sebastian!
seem to have caught the infection of this energetic, self-
reliant spirit.
In Bastia there is neither art nor architecture. It is a
well-built, well-regulated, bustling place, and has risen in
latter years quite as much from the growth of Italian com-
merce as from the favor of the French government. From
the quantity of small coasting craft in the harbor, I should
judge that its trade is principally with the neighboring
shores. In the two book-shops I found many devotional
works and Renucci's History, but only one copy of the
Storicke Corse, which I was glad to secure.
When the hour of departure came, we found the inquis
396 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE.
itive old gentleman at the diligence office. Ho was out
companion in the coupe, and apparently a personage of
some note, as at least a score of friends came to bid him
adieu. To each of these he announced in turn : " These
are my travelling companions an American gentleman
and his wife. They speak French and Italian ; they have
never been in Corsica before ; they are going to Corte ;
they travel for pleasure and information." Then there
were reciprocal salutations and remarks ; and if the pos-
tilion had not finally given the signal to take our places,
we should soon have been on speaking terms with half
Bastia.
The road ran due south, along the base of the moun-
tains. As we passed the luxuriant garden-suburbs, our
companion pointed out the dusky glitter of the orange-
trees, and exclaimed : " You see what the Corsican soil
produces. But this is nothing to the Balagna. There
you will find the finest olive culture of the Mediterranean.
I was prefect of the Balagna in 1836, and in that year the
exportation of oil amounted to six millions of francs, while
an equal quantity was kept for consumption in the island."
Brown old villages nestled high up in the ravines on our
right ; but on the left the plain stretched far away to the
salt lake of Biguglia, the waters of which sparkled between
the clumps of poplars and elms studding the meadows.
The beds of the mountain streams were already nearly
dry, and the summer malaria was beginning to gather on
the low fields through which they wandered. A few
peasants were cutting and tedding hay here and there, or
lazily hauling it homewards. Many of the fields were
given up to myrtle and other wild and fragrant shrubs ;
but there were far too few workers abroad for even the
partial cultivation.
Beyond the lake of Biguglia, and near the mouth of the
Golo River, is the site of Mariana, founded by Marius.
Except a scattering of hewn stones, there are no remains
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 397
of the Roman town ; but the walls of a church and chapei
of the Middle Ages are still to be seen. The only other
Roman colony on Corsica Aleria, at the mouth of the
Tavignano was a restoration of the more ancient Alalia,
which tradition ascribes to the Phoceans. Notwithstand-
ing the nearness of the island to the Italian coast, and
its complete subjection to the Empire, its resources were
imperfectly developed by the Romans, and the accounts of
it given by the ancient writers are few and contradictory.
Strabo says of the people : " Those who inhabit the moun-
tains live from plunder, and are more untamable than wild
beasts. When the Roman commanders undertake an ex-
pedition against the island, and possess themselves of the
strongholds, they bring back to Rome many slaves ; and
then one sees with astonishment the savage animal nature
of the people. For they either take their own lives vio-
lently, or tire out their masters by their stubbornness and
stupidity ; whence, no matter how cheaply they are pur-
chased, it is always a bad bargain in the end."
Here we have the key to that fierce, indomitable spirit
of independence which made the Genoese occupation one
long story of warfare ; which produced such heroes as
Sambucuccio, Sampieri, and Paoli ; and which exalted Cor-
sica, in the last century, to be the embodiment of the dem
ocratic ideas of Europe, and the marvelous forerunner ol
the American Republic. Verily, Nature is " careful of the
type." After the Romans, the Vandals possessed Corsica ;
then the Byzantine Greeks ; then, in succession, the Tuscan
Barons, the Pisans, and the Genoese yet scarcely one of
the political forms planted among them took root in the
character of the islanders. The origin of the Corsican Re-
public lies back of all our history ; it was a natural growth,
which came to light after the suppression of two thousand
years.
As we approached the gorge through which the Colo
breaks its way to the sea. the town of Borgo, crowning
398 BY-WAYS OP EUROPE.
mountain summit, recalled to memory the last Corsicaft
victory, when Clement Paoli, on the 1st of October, 1768.
defeated and drove back to Bastia a French force much
greater than his own. Clement, the brooding monk in his
cloister, the fiery leader of desperate battle, is even a
nobler figure than his brother Pascal in the story of those
days.
We changed horses at an inn under the mountain of
Borgo, and then entered the valley of the Golo, leaving the
main road, which creeps onward to Bonifacio through
lonely and malarious lands. The scenery now assumed a
new aspect. No more the blue Tyrrhene Sea, with its
dreams of islands ; a valley wilder than any infolded
among the Appenines opened before us. Slopes covered
with chestnut groves rose on either side ; slant ravines
mounted between steep escarpments of rock ; a village or
two, on the nearer heights, had the appearance of refuge
and defense, rather than of quiet habitation, and the brown
summits in the distance held out no promise of softer
scenes beyond.
Our companion, the prefect, pointed to the chestnut
groves. " There," said he, " is the main support of our
people in the winter. Our Corsican name for it is 'the
bread tree.' The nuts are ground, and the cakes of chest-
nut-flour, baked on the hearth, and eaten while fresh, are
really delicious. We could not live without the chestnut
and the olive."
The steep upper slopes of the mountains were covered
with th 2 macchia a word of special significance on the
island. It is equivalent to "jungle " or " chaparral " ; but
the Corsican macchia has a character and a use of its own.
Fancy an interminable thicket of myrtle, arbutus, wild
laurel, lentisk, box, and heather, eight or twelve feet in
height, interlaced with powerful and luxuriant vines, and
with an undergrowth of rosemary, lavender, and sage
Between the rigid, stubby stems the wild boar can scarcelj
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 399
make his way ; thorns and dagger-like branches meet
above yet the richest balm breathes from this impene-
trable wilderness. When the people say of a man, " he
has taken to the macchia," every one understands that he
has committed a murder. Formerly, those who indulged
in the fierce luxury of the vendetta sometimes made their
home for years in the thickets, communicating privately,
from time to time, with their families. But there is now
no scent of blood lurking under that of the myrtle and
lavender. Napoleon, who neglected Corsica during his
years of empire (in fact, he seemed to dislike all mention
of the island), remembered the odors of the macchia upon
St. Helena.
Our second station was at a saw-mill beside the river.
Here the prefect left us, saying : " I am going to La Porta,
in the country of Morosaglia. It is a beautiful place,
and you must come and see it. I have a ride of three
hours, on horseback across the mountains, to get there."
His place in the coupe was taken by a young physician
bound for Pontenuovo, further up the valley. I was struck
by the singular loneliness of the country, as we advanced
further into the interior. Neither in the grain-fields be-
low, nor the olive-orchards above, was any laborer to be
seen. Mile after mile passed by, and the diligence was
alone on the highway. " The valley of the Golo is so un-
healthy," said the physician, " that the people only come
down to their fields at the time for ploughing, sowing, and
reaping. If a man from the mountains spends a single
night below here, he is likely to have an attack of fever."
" But the Golo is a rapid mountain stream," T remarked ;
" there are no marshes in the valley, and the air seems to
me pure and bracing. Would not the country become
healthy through more thorough cultivation ? "
" I can only explain it," he answered, " by the constant
variation of temperature. During the day there is a close
heat, such as we feel now, while at night the air becomef
400 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
suddenly chill and damp. As to agriculture, it don't seem
to be the natural business of the Corsican. He will range
the mountains all day, with a gun on his shoulder, but he
hates work in the fields. Most of the harvesting on the
eastern coast of the island, and in the Balagna, is done by
the Lucchese peasants, who come over from the main-
land every year. Were it not for them, the grain would
rot where it stands."
This man's statement may have been exaggerated, but
further observation convinced me that there was truth in
it. Yet the people are naturally active and of a lively
temperament, and their repugnance to labor is only one
of the many consequences of the vendetta. When Paoli
suppressed the custom with an iron hand, industry revived
in Corsica ; and now that the French government has suc-
ceeded in doing the same thing, the waste and pestilent
lands will no doubt be gradually reclaimed.
The annals of the Corsican vendetta are truly something
terrible. Filippini (armed to the teeth and protected by a
stone wall, as he wrote) and other native historians esti-
mate the number of murders from revenge in the three
and a half centuries preceding the year 1729 at three
hundred and thirty-three r thousand, and the number of
persons wounded in family feuds at an equal figure !
Three times the population of the island killed or wounded
in three hundred and fifty years ! Gregorovius says : " If
this island of Corsica could vomit back all the blood of
battle and vendetta which it has drunk during the past
ages, its cities and towns would be overwhelmed, its popula-
tion drowned, and the sea be incarnadined as far as Genoa.
Verily, here the red Death planted his kingdom." France
has at last, by two simple, practical measures, stayed the
deluge. First, the population was disarmed ; then the
bandits and blood-outlaws were formed into a body of
Vobigeurs Corses, who, knowing all the hiding-places in
the macchia, easily track the fugitives. A few executions
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 401
tamed the thirst for blood, and within the past ten years
the vendetta has ceased to exist.
While we were discussing these matters with the physi-
cian, the diligence rolled steadily onwards, up the valley of
the Go!o. With every mile the scenery became wilder,
browner, and more lonely. There were no longer villages
on the hill-summits, and the few farm-houses perched be-
side the chestnut-orchards appeared to be untenanted. As
the road crossed by a lofty stone arch to the southern bank
of the river, the physician said : " This is Pontenuovo, and it
is just a hundred years to-day since the battle was fought."
He was mistaken ; the battle of Pontenuovo, fatal to Paoli
and to the independence of Corsica, took place on the 9th
of May, 1769. It was the end of a struggle all the more
heroic 'because it was hopeless from the start. The stony
slopes on either side of the bridge are holy ground ; for
the Corsicans did not fight in vain. A stronger people
beyond the sea took up the torch as it fell from their
hands, and fed it with fresh oil. History (as it has hith-
erto been written) deals only with events, not with popular
sympathies and enthusiasms ; and we can therefore scarcely
guess how profoundly the heart of the world was stirred by
the name of Corsica, between the years 1755 and 1769.
To Catharine of Russia as to Rousseau, to Alfieri as to Dr.
Johnson, Paoli was one of the heroes of the century.
Beyond Pontenuovo the valley widens, and a level road
carried us speedily to Ponte alia Leccia, at the junction of
the Golo with its principal affluent, the Tartaglia. Ponte-
lech and Tartatch are the Corsican words. Here the scen-
ery assumes a grand Alpine character. High over the
nearer mountains rose the broken summits of Monte
Padro and Capo Bianco, the snow-filled ravines glittering
between then dark pinnacles of rock. On the south, a by-
road wandered away through the chestnut-woods to Moro-
saglia ; villages with picturesque belfries overlooked the
valley, and the savage macchia gave place to orchards
*02 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
of olive. Yet the character of the scenery was sombre,
almost melancholy. Though the myrtle flowered snowily
among the rocks, and the woodbine hung from the banks,
and the river filled the air with the incessant mellow
sound of its motion, these cheerful features lost their
wonted effect beside the sternness and solitude of the
mountains.
Towards the end of this stage the road left the Golo, and
ascended a narrow lateral valley to the village of Omessa,
where we changed horses. Still following the stream to
its sources, we reached a spur from the central chain, and
slowly climbed its sides to a higher region a land of
rocks and green pasture-slopes, from the level of which a
wide sweep of mountains was visible. The summit of
the pass was at least two thousand feet above the sea. On
attaining it, a new and surprising vista opened to the south-
ward, into the very heart of the island. The valley before
us dropped in many windings into that of the Tavignano,
the second river of Corsica, which we overlooked for an
extent of thirty miles. Eastward the mountains sank into
hills of gentle undulation, robed with orchards and vine-
yards, and crowned with villages ; westward they towered
into dark, forbidding ranges, and the snows of the great
central peaks of Monte Rotondo and Monte d" Oro, nearly
ten thousand feet in height, stood gray against the sunset
Generally, the landscapes of an island have a diminished,
contracted character; but here the vales were as amply
spread, the mountains as grandly planted, as if a continent
lay behind them.
For two leagues the road descended, following the bays
and forelands of the hills. The diligence sped downward
so rapidly that before it was quite dusk we saw the houses
and high rock fortress of Corte before us. A broad ave-
nue of sycamores, up and down which groups of people
were st; oiling, led into the town. We were set down at a
hotel of primitive fashion, where we took quarters for th<:
THE LAND OF PAOL1. 403
night, leaving the diligence, which would have carried us
to Ajaccio by the next morning. Several French officials
had possession of the best rooms, so that we were but indif-
ferently lodged ; but the mountain trout on the dinner-
table were excellent, and the wine of Corte was equal to
that of Tuscany.
While the moon, risen over the eastern mountains,
steeps the valley in misty silver, and a breeze from the Al-
pine heights deliciously tempers the air, let us briefly recall
that wonderful episode of Corsican history of which Pascal
Paoli is the principal figure. My interest in the name
dates from the earliest recollections of childhood. Near
my birthplace there is an inn and cluster of houses named
Paoli or, as the people pronounce it, Peoli. Here
twenty-three American soldiers were murdered in cold
blood by the British troops, in September, 1777. Wayne's
battle-cry at the storming of Stony Point was, " Remember
Paoli ! " The old tavern-sign was the half-length portrait
of an officer (in a red coat, I think), whom, I was told, was
" General Paoli," but I knew nothing further of him,
until, some years later, I stumbled- on Boswell's work ; my
principal authority, however, is a recent volume, 1 and the
collection of Paoli's letters published by Tommaseo.
It is unnecessary to review the long struggle of the Cor-
sicans to shake off the yoke of Genoa ; I need only allude
to the fact. Pascal, born in 1724 or 1725, was the son of
Hyacinth Paoli, who was chosen one of the chiefs of the
people in 1734, and in connection with the other chiefs,
Ceccaldi and Giaffori, carried on the war for independence
wit- the greatest bravery and resolution, but with little
success, for two years. In March, 1736, when the Corsi-
cans were reduced to the last extremity, the Westphalian
adventurer, Theodore von NeuhofF, suddenly made his ap-
pearance. The story of this man, who came ashore in a
caftan of scarlet silk, Turkish trousers, yellow shoes, I
i Histoire dt Pascal Paoli, par M. Bartoli. Largentiere, 1866.
404 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
Spanish hat and feather, and a sceptre in his right hand,
and coolly announced to the people that he had come to be
their king, is so fantastic as to be scarcely credible ; but
we cannot dwell upon it. His supplies of money and ran
nitions of war, and still more his magnificent promises,
beguiled those sturdy republicans into accepting the cheat,
of a crown. The fellow was not without ability, and bu(
for a silly vanity, which led him to ape the state and show
of other European courts, might have kept his place. His
reign of eight months was the cause of Genoa calling in
the aid of France ; and, after three years of varying for-
tunes, the Corsicans were obliged to submit to the condi-
tions imposed upon them by the French commander,
Maillebois.
Hyacinth Paoli went into exile, and found a refuge at
the court of Naples with his son Pascal. The latter was
carefully educated in the school of Genovesi, the first
Italian political-economist of the last century, and then
entered the army, where he distinguished himself during
campaigns in Sicily and Calabria. Thus sixteen years
passed away.
The Corsicans, meanwhile, had continued their struggle
under the leadership of Giaffori, another of the many he-
roes of the island. "When, in 1753, he was assassinated,
the whole population met together to celebrate his obse-
quies, and renewed the oath of resistance to death against
the Genoese rule. Five chiefs (one of whom was Clement
Paoli, Pascal's elder brother) were chosen to organize a
provisional government and carry on the war. But at the
end of two years it was found prudent to adopt a more
practical system, and to give the direction of affairs into
the hands of a single competent man. It was no doubt
Clement Paoli who first suggested his brother's name.
The military experience of the latter gave him the confi-
dence of the people, and their unanimous voice called him
to be their leader.
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 405
In April, 1755, Pascal Paoli, then thirty years old,
landed at Aleria, the very spot where King Theodore had
made his theatrical entry into Corsica nineteen years be-
fore. Unlike him, Paoli came alone, poor, bringing only
his noble presence, his cultivated intelligence, and his fame
as a soldier, to the help of his countrymen. " It was a
singular problem," says one of the historians of Corsica ;
" it was a new experiment in history, and how it might
succeed at a time when similar experiments failed in the
most civilized lands would be to Europe an evidence that
the rude simplicity of nature is more capable of adapting
itself to democratic liberty than the refined corruption of
culture can possibly be."
Paoli, at first reluctant to accept so important a post,
finally yielded to the solicitations of the people, and on the
loth of July was solemnly invested with the Presidency of
Corsica. His first step shows at once his judgment and
his boldness. He declared that the vendetta must instantly
cease ; whoever committed blood-revenge was to be
branded with infamy, and given up to the headsman. He
traversed the island, persuading hostile families to bury
their feuds, and relentlessly enforced the new law, although
one of his relatives was the first victim. But he was not
allowed to enter upon his government without resistance.
Matra, one of the Corsican chiefs, was ambitious of Paoli's
place, and for a year the island was disturbed with civil
war. Matra claimed and received assistance from Genoa,
and Paoli, defeated and besieged in the monastery of
Bozio, was almost in the hands of his rival, when rein-
forcements appeared, headed by Clement and by Carnoni,
a blood-enemy of the Paolis, forced by his noble mo f hei
to forswear the family enmity, and deliver instead of ulay.
Matra was killed, and thenceforth Paoli was the undisputed
chief of Corsica.
It was not difficult for the people, once united, to with*
stand the weakened power of Genoa. That republic po
406 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
sessed only Bastia, Ajaccio, and Calvi ; the garrisoning of
which fortresses, by a treaty with France in 1756, was
transferred to the latter power, in order to prevent them
from falling into the hands of the Corsicans. The French
proclaimed a neutrality which Paoli perforce was obliged
to respect. He therefore directed his attention to the thor-
ough political organization of the island, the development
of its resources, and the proper education of its people.
He had found the country in a lamentable condition when
he returned from his exile. The greater part of the people
had relapsed into semi-barbarism in the long course of
war; agriculture was neglected, laws had fallen into dis-
use, the vendetta raged everywhere, and the only element
from which order and industry could be evolved was the
passionate thirst for independence, which had only been
increased by defeat and suffering.
Paoli made the completest use of this element, bending
it all to the purposes of government, and his success was
truly astonishing. The new seaport of Isola Rossa was
built in order to meet the necessity of immediate com-
merce ; manufactories of all kinds, even powder-mills were
established ; orchards of chestnut, olive, and orange trees
were planted, the culture -of maize introduced, and plans
made for draining the marshes and covering the island
with a network of substantial highways. An educational
system far in advance of the times was adopted. All chil-
dren received at least the rudiments of education, and in
the year 1765 the University of Corsica was founded at
Corte. One provision of its charter was the education of
poor scholars, who showed more than average capacity, at
the public expense.
Paoli was obliged to base his scheme of government on
the existing forms. He retained the old provincial and
municif '! divisions, with their magistrates and-elders, mak-
ing only such changes as were necessary to bind the scat-
tered local jurisdictions into one consistent whole, to which
THE LAND OF PAOL1. 40*1
he gavo a national power and character. He declared the
people to be the sole source of law and authority ; that his
office was a trust from their hands, and to be exercised ac-
cording to their will and for their general good ; and that
the central government must be a house of glass, allowing
each citizen to watch over its action. " Secrecy and mys-
tery in governments," he said, " not only make a people
mistrustful, but favor the growth of an absolute irrespon-
sible power."
All citizens above the age of twenty-five years were en-
titled to the right of suffrage. Each community elected
its own magistrates, but the voters were obliged to swear
before the officials already in power, that they would nom-
inate only the worthiest and most capable men as their
successors. These local elections were held annually, but
the magistrates were not eligible to immediate reelection.
A representative from each thousand of the population
was elected to the General Assembly, which in its turn
chose a Supreme Executive Council of nine members
one from each province of the island. The latter were re-
quired to be thirty-five years of age, and to have served as
governors of their respective provinces. A majority of
two thirds gave the decisions of the General Assembly the
force of law ; but the Council, in certain cases, had the
right of veto, and the question was then referred for final
decision to the next Assembly. Paoli was President of
the Council and General-in-chief of the army. Both he
and the members of the Council, however, were responsible
to the nation, and liable to impeachment, removal, and
punishment by the General Assembly.
Pitoli, while enforcing a general militia system, took the
strongest ground against the establishment of a standing
army. " In a free land," he said, " every citizen must be a
soldier, and ready to arm at any moment in defense of his
rights. But standing armies have always served Despot-
ism rather than Liberty." He only gave way that a lira
408 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
ited number should be enrolled to garrison the fortified
places. As soon as the people were sufficiently organized
to resist the attempts which Genoa made from time to
time to recover her lost dominion, he devoted his energies
wholly to the material development of the island. The
Assembly, at his suggestion, appointed two commissioners
of agriculture for each province. The vendetta was com-
pletely suppressed ; with order and security came a new
prosperity, and the cities held by the neutral French began
to stir with desires to come under Paoli's paternal rule.
The resemblance in certain forms as in the general spirit
and character of the Constitution of the Corsican Repub-
lic to that of the United States, which was framed more
than thirty years afterwards, is very evident. Indeed, we
may say that the latter is simply an adaptation of the same
political principles to the circumstances of a more advanced
race and a broader field of action. But if we justly ven-
erate the courage which won our independence and the
wisdom which gave us our institutions, how shall we suffi-
ciently honor the man and the handful of half-barbarous
people who so splendidly anticipated the same great work !
Is there anything nobler in history than the Corsican epi-
sode ? No wonder that the' sluggish soul of Europe, then
beginning to stir with the presentiment of coming changes,
was kindled and thrilled as not for centuries before. What
effect the example of Corsica had upon the American
Colonies is something which we cannot now measure. I
like to think, however, that the country tavern-sign of
" General Paoli," put up before the Revolution, signified
more than the mere admiration of the landlord for a for-
eign hero.
At the end of ten years the Genoese Senate became
convinced that the recovery of Corsica was hopeless ; and
wheu Paoli succeeded in creating a small fleet, under the
command of Perez, Knight of Malta, they saw their Med-
iterranean commerce threatened with destruction. In the
THE LAND OF PACLI. 409
/ear 1767 the island of Capraja was captured by the Coi-
sicans; then Genoa set the example which Austria has
recently followed in the case of Venetia. A treaty was
signed at Versailles on the 15th of May, 1768, between the
French Minister, the Duke de Choiseul, and the Genoese
Ambassador, whereby Genoa transferred to France all her
right and title to the island of Corsica. This was a death-
blow to the Republic ; but the people armed and organized,
determined to resist to the end. The splendid victory at
Borgo gave them hope. They asked and expected the
assistance of England ; but when did England ever help a
weak and struggling people? The battle of Pontenuovo,
on the 9th of May, 1769, sealed the fate of the island. A
month afterwards Paoli went into exile with three hundred
of his countrymen. Among those who fled, after the bat-
tle, to the wild Alpine fastnesses of Monte Rotondo, was
his secretary, Carlo Bonaparte, and the latter's wife, Letitia
Ramolino, then seven months enceinte with the boy who
afterwards made Genoa and France suffer the blood-re-
venge of Corsica. Living in caves and forests, drenched
with rain, and almost washed away by the mountain tor-
rents, Letitia bore her burden to Ajaccio, and Napoleon
Bonaparte was one of the first Corsicans who were born
Frenchmen.
Paoli's journey through Italy and Germany to England
was a march of triumph. On reaching London he was re-
ceived by the king in private audience ; all parties joined
in rendering him honor. A pension of two thousand
pounds a year was granted to him (the greater part of
which he divided among his fellow exiles), and he took up
his residence in the country from which he still hoped the
liberation of Corsica. For twenty years we hear of him
as a member of that society which included Burke, Rey-
nolds, Johnson, Garrick, and Goldsmith ; keeping clear ot
parties, yet, we may be sure, following with an interest he
hardly dared betray the events of the American struggle.
410 BY-WAYS OP EUROPE.
But the French revolution did not forget him. Th
Corsicans, in November, 1789, carried away by the repub-
lican movement in France, had voted that their islanj
should be an integral part of the French nation. There
was a general cry for Paoli, and in April 1790, he reached
Paris. Lafayette was his friend and guide ; the National
Assembly received him with every mark of respect ; the
club of the Amis de la Constitution seated him beside its
President Robespierre; Louis XVI. gave him an audi-
ence, and he was styled by the enthusiastic populace " the
Washington of Europe." At Marseilles he was met by a
Corsican deputation, two of the members of which were
Joseph and Napoleon Bonaparte, who sailed with him to
their native island. On landing at Cape Corso, he knelt
and kissed the earth, exclaiming, " my country, I left
thee enslaved and I find thee free ! " All the land rose to
receive him ; Te Deums were chanted in the churches, and
the mountain villages were depopulated to swell his tri-
umphal march. In September of the same year the rep-
resentatives of the people elected him President of the
Council and General of the troops of the island.
Many things had been changed during his twenty years'
absence, under the rule of 'France. It was not long before
the people divided themselves into two parties one French
and ultra-republican ; the other Corsican, working secretly
for the independence of the island. The failure of the
expedition against Sardinia was charged to Paoli, and he
was summoned by the Convention to appear and answer
the charges against him. Had he complied, his head would
probably have fallen under the all-devouring guillotine ; he
refused, and his refusal brought the two Corsican parties
Into open collision. Paoli was charged with being ambi-
cious, corrupt, and plotting to deliver Corsica to England.
His most zealous defender was the young Napoleon Bona-
parte, who wrote a fiery, indignant address, which I should
like to quote. Among other things he says, " We owe ah
to him even the fortune of being a republic ! "
THE LAND OF PAOLl. 411
The story now becomes one of intrigue and deception,
and its heroic atmosphere gradually vanishes. Pozzo di
Borgo, the blood-enemy of Napoleon, alienated Paoli
from the latter. A fresh, cunning, daring intellect, he ac-
quired a mischievous influence over the gray-haired, sim-
ple-hearted patriot. That which Paoli's enemies charged
against him came to pass ; he asked the help of England,
and in 1794 the people accepted the sovereignty of that
nation, on condition of preserving their institutions, and
being governed by a viceroy, who it was presumed would
be none other than Pascal Paoli. The English fleet, un-
der Admiral Hood, speedily took possession of Bastia,
Calvi, Ajaccio, and the other seaports. But the English
government, contemptuously ignoring Paoli's services and
claims, sent out Sir Gilbert Elliott as viceroy; and he,
jealous of Paoli's popularity, demanded the hitter's recall
to England. George III. wrote a command under the form
of an invitation ; and in 1795, Paoli, disappointed in all
his hopes, disgusted with the treatment he had received,
and recognizing the hopelessness of healing the new dis-
sensions among the people, left Corsica for the last time.
He returned to his former home in London, where he died
in 1807, at the age of eighty-two years. What little prop-
erty he had saved was left to found a school at Stretta, his
native village ; and another at Corte, for fifteen years his
capital. Within a year after his departure the English
were driven out of Corsica.
Paoli rejoiced, as a Corsican, at Napoleon's ascendency
in France. He illuminated his house in London when the
latter was declared Consul for life, yet he was never re-
called. During his last days on St. Helena, Napoleon
regretted his neglect or jealousy of the old hero ; his lame
apology was. " I was so governed by political considera-
tions, that it was impossible for me to obey my persona]
impulses ! "
Our first object, on the morning after our arrival ic
412 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
Corte, was to visit the places with which Paoli's name U
associated. The main street conducted us to the public
square, where stands his bronze statue, with the inscrip-
tion on the pedestal: "A PASCAL PAOLI LA CORSE RE~
CONNAISSANTE." On one side of the square is the Pa-
huza, or Hall of Government ; and there they show you his
room, the window-shutters of which still keep their lining
of cork, as in the days of assassination, when he founded
the Republic. Adjoining it is a chamber where the Exec
utive Council met to deliberate. Paoli's school, which still
flourishes, is his best monument.
High over the town rises the battered citadel, seated on a
rock which on the western side falls several hundred feet
sheer down to the Tavignano. The high houses of brown
stone climb and cling to the eastern slope, rough masses
of browner rock thrust out among them ; and the place
thus has an irregular pyramidal form, which is wonderfully
picturesque. The citadel was last captured from the Geno-
ese by Paoli's forerunner, Giaffori, in the year 1745. The
Corsican cannon were beginning to breach the walls, when
the Genoese commander ordered Giaffori's son, who had
previously been taken prisoner, to be suspended from the
ramparts. For a moment but only for a moment
Giaffori shuddered, and turned away his head ; then he
commanded the gunners, who had ceased firing, to renew
the attack. The breach was effected, and the citadel taken
by storm ; the boy, unhurt amidst the terrible cannonade,
was restored to his father.
We climbed towards the top of the rock by streets which
resembled staircases. At last the path came to an end in
some unsavory back-yards, if piles of shattered rock behind
the houses can be so called. I asked a young fellow who
was standing in the doorway, watching us, whether any
view was to be had by going further.
" Yes," said he, " but there is a better prospect from the
other house yonder, where you see the old woman."
THE LAND OF PAOLI.
We clambered across the intervening rocks, and found
the woman engaged in shearing a goat, which a boy held by
the horns. " Certainly," she said, when I repeated the
question ; " Come into the house, and you shall look from
the windows."
She led us through the kitchen into a bright, plainly fur
nished room, where four women were sewing. They all
greeted us smilingly, rose, pushed away their chairs, and
then opened the southern window. " Now look ! " said the
old woman.
We were dazzled by the brightness and beauty of the pic-
ture. The house was perched upon the outer angle of the
rock, and the valle) of the Tavignano, with the gorge through
which its affluent, the Restonica, issues from the mountains,
lay below us. Gardens, clumps of walnut and groves of
chestnut trees, made the valley green ; the dark hues of the
mountains were softened to purple in the morning air,
and the upper snows shone with a brilliancy which I have
rarely seen among the Alps. The breeze came down to
us with freshness on its wings, and the subdued voices of
the twin rivers.
u Now the other window ! " the women spid.
It opened eastward. There were, first, the roofs of
Corte, dropping away to the water-side ; then a wide, boun-
teous valley, green, flecked with harvest gold ; then village-
crowned hills, and, behind all, the misty outlines of moun-
tains that slope to the eastern shore. It is a fair land,
this Corsica, and the friendly women were delighted when
I told them so.
The people looked at us with a natural curiosity as we
descended the hill. Old women, invariably dressed in
black, gossiped or spun at the doors, girls carried water on
their heads from the fountains below, children tumbled
about on the warm stones, and a young mother, beside hei
cradle, sang the Corsican lullaby :
414 BY-WAYb OF EUROPE.
" Ninni ninni, ninna nanna,
Ninni ninni, ninni nolu,
Allegrezza di la mamma,
Addormentati, o figliolu ! "
There is another Corsican cradle song which has a sin-
gular resemblance to Tennyson's, yet it is quite unlikely
that he ever saw it. One verse runs :
" A little pearl-laden ship, my darling,
Thou earnest silken stores,
And with the silken sails all set
Com'st from the Indian shores,
And wrought with the finest workmanship
Are all thy golden oars.
Sleep, my little one, sleep a little while,
Ninni nanna, sleep ! "
The green waters of the Tavignano, plunging and foam-
ing down their rocky bed, freshened the warm summer air.
Beyond the bridge a vein of the river, led underground,
gushes forth as a profuse fountain under an arch of mason-
ry ; and here a number of people were collected to wash
and to draw water. One of the girls, who gave us to
drink, refused to accept a proffered coin, until a country-
man who was looking on said, " You should take it, since
the lady wishes ft." A few paces further a second bridge
crosses the Restonica, which has its source in some small
lakes near the summit of Monte Rotondo. Its volume of
water appeared to me to be quite equal to that of the Tavig-
nano.
The two rivers meet in a rocky glen a quarter of a mile
below the town ; and thither we wandered in the after-
noon, through the shade of superb chestnut-trees. From
this, as from every other point in the neighborhood, the
views are charming. There is no threat of malaria in the
pure mountain air ; the trees are of richest foliage, the
water is transparent beryl, and the pleasant, communica-
tive people one meets impress one with a sense of theii
honest simplicity. We wandered around Corte, surrender
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 415
ing ourselves to the influences of the scenery and its asso-
ciations, and entirely satisfied with both.
Towards evening we climbed the hill by an easier path,
which brought us upon the crest of a ridge connecting
the citadel-rock with the nearest mountains. Directly
before us opened the gorge of the Tavignano, with a bridle-
path notched along its almost precipitous sides. A man
who had been sitting idly on a rock, with a pipe in his
mouth, came up, and stood beside me. " Yonder," said he,
pointing to the bridle-path, "yonder is the road to the
land of Niolo. If you follow that, you will come to a forest
that is four hours long. The old General Arrighi the
Duke of Padua, you know travelled it some years ago,
and I was his guide. I see you are strangers ; you ought
to see the land of Niolo. It is not so rich as Corte here ;
but then the forests and the lakes, ah, they are fine ! "
Presently the man's wife joined us, and we sat down to-
gether, and gossiped for half an hour. They gave us the
recipe for making broccio; a kind of Corsican curd, or
junket, which we had tasted at the hotel, and found deli-
cious. I also learned from them many details of the coun-
try life of the island. They, like all the Corsicans with
whom I came in contact, were quite as ready to answer
questions as to ask them. They are not so lively as the
Italians, but more earnestly communicative, quick of ap-
prehension, and gifted with a rude humor of their own.
In Bastia I bought a volume of Pruverbf Corse, which con-
tains more than three thousand proverbs peculiar to the
island, many of them exceedingly witty and clever. I
quote a single one as a specimen of the dialect :
" Da gattivu calzu un ne piglik magliolu,
Male u babbu e pegghiu u figliolu."
During our talk I asked the pair, " Dp you still have
the vendetta in this neigborhood ? "
They both professed not to know what I meant by " ven-
<t!6 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE.
detta," but I saw plainly enough that they understood the
question. Finally tlie man said, rather impatiently, " Ther
are a great many kinds of vendetta."
"I mean blood-revenge assassination murder."
His hesitation to speak about the matter disappeared as
mysteriously as it came. (Was there, perhaps, a stain upon
his own hand ?) '' 0," he answered, " that is all at an end.
I can remember when five persons were killed in a day in
Corte, and when a'man could not travel from here to Ajac
cio without risking his life. But now we have neither mur-
ders nor robberies ; all the roads are safe, the people live
quietly, and the country everywhere is better than it was."
I noticed that the Corsicans are proud of the present
Emperor on account of his parentage ; but they have also
some reason to be grateful to his government. He has
done much to repair the neglect of his uncle. The work
of Paoli has been performed over again ; law and order
prevail from the sea-shore to the highest herdsman's hut
on Monte Rotondo; admirable roads traverse the island,
schools have been established in all the villages, and the
national spirit of the people is satisfied by having a semi-
Corsican on the throne of France. I saw no evidence of
discontent anywhere, nor' need there be ; for Europe has
nearly reached the Corsican ideal of the last century, and
the pride of the people may well repose for a while upon
the annals of their heroic past.
It was a serious disappointment that we were unable to
visit Ajaccio and the Balagna. We could only fix the in-
spiring scenery of Corte in our memories, and so make its
historical associations vital and enduring. There was nc
O
other direct way of returning to Bastia than the road by
which we came ; but it kept a fresh interest for us. The
conductor of the diligence was one of the liveliest fellows
living, and entertained us with innumerable -stories; and
at the station of Oniessa we met with a character so orig
inal that I wish I could record every word he said.
TH] LAND OF PAOLI. 417
The man looked more like a Yankee than any Italian 1
had seen for six months. He presented the conductor with
what appeared to be a bank-note for one thousand francs ;
but it proved to be issued by the " Bank of Content," and
entitled the holder to live a thousand years. Happiness
was the president, and Temperance the cashier.
" I am a director of the bank," said the disseminator of
the notes, addressing the passengers and a group of coun-
trymen, " and I can put you all in the way of being stock-
holders. But you must first bring testimonials. Four are
required one religious, one medical, one legal, and one
domestic. What must they be ? Listen, and I will tell.
Religious from a priest, vouching for four things : that
you have never been baptized, never preached, don't be-
lieve in the Tope, and are not afraid of the Devil. Medi-
cal from a doctor, that you have had the measles, that
your teeth are sound, that you are not flatulent, and that
he has never given you medicine. Legal from a law-
yer, that you have never been accused of theft, that you
mind your own business, and that you have never em-
ployed him. Domestic from your wife, that you don't
lift the lids of the kitchen pots, walk in your sleep, or lose
the keyhole of your door! There! can any one of you
bring me these certificates ?"
The auditors, who had roared with laughter during the
speech, became suddenly grave which emboldened the
man to ply them with other and sharper questions. Our
departure cut short the scene ; but I heard the conductor
laughing on his box for a league further.
At Ponte alia Leccia we breakfasted on trout, and,
speeding down the grand and lonely valley of the Golo,
reached Bastia towards evening. As we steamed out of
the little harbor the next day, we took the words of our
friend Greeorovius, and made them ours :
o
27
418 BY-WAYS OP EUROPE.
" Year after year, thy slopes of olives hoar
Give oil, thy vineyards still their bounty poor!
Thy maize on golden meadows ripen well,
And let the sun thy curse of blood dispel,
Till down each vale and on each mountain-side
The stains of thy heroic blood be dried !
Thy sons be like their fathers, strong and sure,
Thy daughters as thy mountain rivers pure,
And still thy granite crags between them stand
And all corruptions of the older land.
Fair isle, farewell ! thy virtues shall not sleep;
Thy fathers' valor shall their children keep,
That ne'er this taunt to thee the stranger eMt, --
Thj heroes were bat tables of the Parti "
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA.
WITH A DISTANT VIEW OF CAPRERA.
BEFORE leaving Florence for the trip to Corsica, in which
1 intended to include, if possible, the island of Snrdinia, I
noticed that the Rubattino steamers touched at Maddalena,
on their way from Bastia to Porto Torres. The island of
Maddalena, I knew, lay directly over against Caprera, sep-
arated by a strait not more than two or three miles in
breadth, and thus a convenient opportunity was offered of
visiting the owner and resident of the latter island, the
illustrious General Giuseppe Garibaldi. I have no special
passion for making the personal acquaintance of distin-
guished men, unless it happens that there is some point of
mutual interest concerning which intelligence may be given
or received. In this case, I imagined there was such a
point of contact. Having followed the fortunes of Italy
for the past twenty years, with the keen sympathy which
springs from a love for the land, and having been so near
the events of the last unfortunate expedition against Rome
as to feel from day to day the reflection of those events in
the temper of the Italian people, I had learned, during a
subsequent residence in Rome, certain facts which added
to the interest of the question, while they seemed still more
to complicate its solution. There were some things, I felt,
an explanation of which (so far as he would be able to
give it) might be asked of Garibaldi without impropriety,
and which he could communicate without any necessity of
reserve.
Another and natural sentiment was mingled with my
desire to meet the hero of Italian unity. I knew how
shamefully he had been deceived in certain respects, be-
fore undertaking- the expedition which terminated so fruit-
422 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
lessh at Mentana, and could, therefore, guess the mortifi-
cation which accompanied him in his imprisonment 'for
such it virtually is) at Caprera. While, therefore, I should
not have sought an interview after the glorious Sicilian and
Calabrian campaign, or when the still excited world was
reading Nelaton's bulletins from Spezzia, so confounding
myself with the multitude who always admire the hero of
the day, and risk their necks to shake hands with him, I
felt a strong desire to testify such respect as the visit of a
stranger implies, in Garibaldi's day of defeat and neglect.
" I did not praise thee, when the crowd,
Witched with the moment's inspiration,
Vexed thy still ether with hosannas loud,
And stamped their dusty adoration." *
Of all the people who crowded to see him at Spezzia in
such throngs that a false Garibaldi, with bandaged foot,
was arranged to receive the most of them, there is no trace
now. The same Americans who come from Paris chant-
ing paeans to Napoleon III., go to Rome and are instantly
stricken with sympathy for Pius IX., and a certain respect
for the Papacy, temporal power included. They give Ca-
prera a wide berth. Two or three steadfast English
friends do what they can to make the hero's solitude pleas-
ant, and he has still, as always, the small troop of Italian
followers, who never forsake him, because they live from
his substance.
Before deciding to visit Caprera, I asked the candid ad-
vice of some of the General's most intimate friends in
Florence. They assured me that scarcely any one had
gone to see him for months past ; that a visit from an
American, who sympathized with the great and generous
aims to which he has devoted his life, could not be other-
wise than welcome ; and, while offering me cordial letters
of introduction, declared that this formality was really un-
necessary. It was pleasant to hear him spoken of as a
1 Lowell, Ode to Lamartin* .
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 423
tnau whose refined amiability of manner was e.{uU to his
unselfish patriotism, and who was as simple, unpretending^
and accessible personally, as he was rigorously democratic
in his political utterances.
I purposely shortened my tour in Corsica, in order to
take the Italian steamer which touches at Bastia, on its
way to Maddalena. Half smothered in the sultry heat, we
watched the distant smoke rounding the rocks of Capraja,
and the steamer had no sooner anchored outside the mole,
than we made haste to embark. The cloth was already
spread over the skylight on the quarterdeck, and seven
plates denoted six fellow-passengers. Two of these were
ladies, two Italians, with an old gentleman, who proved to
English, although he looked the least like it, and an unmis-
takable Garibaldian, in a red shirt. The latter was my
vis-a-vis at table, and it was not long before he startled the
company by exclaiming : " In fifty years we shall have the
Universal Republic ! "
After looking around the table, he fixed his eyes on me,
as if challenging assent.
" In five hundred years, perhaps," I said.
" But the priests will go down soon ! " he shouted ; " and
as for that brute" (pointing with his fork towards Corsica),
" who rules there, his time is soon up."
As nobody seemed inclined to reply, he continued :
" Since the coming of the second Jesus Christ, Garibaldi,
the work goes on like lightning. As soon as the priests
are down, the Republic will come."
This man, so one of the passengers informed me, had
come on board en bourgeois, but as the .steamer approached
Corsica, he suddenly appeared on deck in his red shirt.
After we left Bastia, he resumed his former costume. In
the capacity to swagger, he surpassed any man I had seen
since leaving home. His hair hung about his ears, his
nose was long, his beard thick and black, and he had the
air of a priest rather than a soldier, but it was an ah
424 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
which pompously announced to everybody : u Garibaldi ii
the Second Christ, and I am his Prophet ! "
Over the smooth sea we sped down the picturesque Cor-
sican coast. An indentation in the grand mountain chain
showed us the valley of the Golo ; then came the heights
of Vescovato, where Filippini wrote the history of the
island, and Murat took refuge after losing his Neapolitan
kingdom ; then, Cervione, where the fantastic King The-
odore, the First and Last, held his capital ; after which
night fell upon the shores, and we saw only mountain
phantoms in the moonlight.
At sunrise the steward called me.
" We are passing the bocca" the Straits of Bonifacio,
said he, " and will soon be at Maddalena."
It was an archipelago of rocks in which the steamer was
entangled. All around us, huge gray masses, with scarcely
a trace of vegetation, rose from the wave ; in front, the
lofty, dark blue, serrated mountains of Sardinia pierced the
sky, and far to the right faded the southern shores of Cor-
sica. But, bleak and forsaken as was the scene, it had a
curious historical interest. As an opening between the
islands disclosed the white rocks, citadel, and town of Bon-
ifacio, some fifteen miles' distant, I remembered the first
important episode in the life of Napoleon It was in the
year 1792, while Pascal Paoli was still President of Cor-
sica. An expedition against Sardinia having been deter-
mined upon by the Republic, Napoleon, after, perhaps, the
severest struggle of his life, was elected second in com-
mand of the battalion of Ajaccio. A work 1 written by M.
Nasica, of the latter place, gives a singular picture of the
fierce family feuds which preceded the election. It was
the commencement of that truly Corsican vendetta between
Pozzo di Borgo and the future emperor, which only ter-
minated when 4he former was able to say, after "Waterloo :
" I have not killed Napoleon, but I have thrown the lasl
shovelful of earth upon him."
l Memmrct tvr fEnfance et la Jeunetse de Napoleon. Ajaccio, 1853.
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 426
The first attempt of the expedition was to be directed
against the island of Maddalena. A battery was planted
on the uninhabited rock of Santa Teresa (beside which we
passed), and Maddalena was bombarded, but without effect.
Napoleon prepared a plan for its capture, but Colonna, the
first in command, refused to allow him to make the at-
tempt. A heated discussion took place in the presence of
the other officers, and Napoleon, becoming at last indig-
nant and impatient, turned to the latter, and said : " He
doesn't know what I mean."
" You are an insolent fellow," retorted Colonna.
Napoleon muttered, as he turned away : " We have only
a cheval de parade for commander."
At Bonifacio, afterwards, his career came near being
suddenly terminated. Some Marseilles marines who landed
there provoke:! a quarrel with the soldiers of the Corsican
battalion. Napoleon interfered to restore order, where-
upon he was seized by the fierce Marseillaise, who would
have hung him to a lamp-post, but for the timely aid of the
civil authorities. The disfavor of Paoli, who was at that time
under the control of Pozzo di Borgo, finally drove Napo-
leon from Corsica ; so that the machinations of his bitter-
est enemy really forced him into the field where he was so
suddenly and splendidly successful.
While we were recalling this fateful fragment of history,
the steamer entered the narrow strait between Maddalena
and the main land of Sardinia, and at the same moment
two stately French vessels made their appearance, crossing
tracks on the route between Marseilles and the Orient
The rocky island of San Stefano, lying opposite Madda-
lena, forms a sheltered harbor, which Caprera, rising east-
ward against the sea, renders completely landlocked. But
what a wild, torn, distorted, desolate panorama ! A thin
sprinkling of lavender, rosemary, and myrtle serves but to
set off the cold gray of the granite rocks ; the summits
rise in natural bastions, or thrust out huge fangs or twisted
426 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
horns. There is nowhere any softening of these violent
outlines. They print themselves on the farthest distance,
and one is not surprised that the little village of Madda-
lena, the white house on Caprera, and two or three fishing-
Hits on the Sardinian shore, are the only signs of human
habitation.
Beside the village, however, there was a little valley,
near the head of which a cool, white villa, perched on a
mass of rocks, shone against the rugged background.
" That is my place," said the old Englishman, " and I
shall be happy to see you there."
" I shall certainly come, if we have time enough after
visiting Caprera," I replied.
The Englishman, an entire stranger, was very kind in
his offers of service ; the Garibaldian was so pompous and
arrogant in his manner, that I soon perceived that no
assistance could be expected from him. Nevertheless,
chance threw us into the same boat, on landing in the
little harbor. I had ascertained that there was a hotel,
kept by one Remigio, in Maddalena ; and although one of
"our mutual friends" had advised me to go directly to
Caprera, Garibaldi's hospitality being as certain as sun-
rise, or the change of the tide, I determined to stop with
Remigio, and forward my letters. When the Prophet of
the Second Coming stepped on shore, he was accosted by
an old veteran, who wore a red shirt and blue goggles.
They embraced and kissed each other, and presently came
up another weather-beaten person, with an unmistakably
honest and amiable face, who was hailed with the name of
" Basso ! "
I knew the name as that of one of Garibaldi's most faith-
ful followers, and as the boat, meanwhile, had been re-
tained to convey the party to Caprera, I stepped up to
Basso and the Prophet and asked : " Will one of you be
good enough to take these letters to General Garibaldi,
and let the boatman bring me word when it will be con-
venient for him to receive me ? "
THE ISLAND OF MADD.ALENA. 427
" Certainly," said the Prophet, taking the letters, and re-
marking, as he pointed to Basso, " this is the General's
secretary."
The latter made a modest gesture, disclaiming the honor,
and said : u No ; you know that you are really his secre-
r tary."
The boat shoved off with them. " It is a queer com-
pany," I said to myself, " and perhaps I ought not to have
intrusted the letters to their care." One letter was from a
gentleman in a high diplomatic position, whose reputation
as a scholar is world-wide, and who possesses the most gen-
erous, and at the same time the most intelligent, sympathy
with the aspirations of the Italian people. The other was
from a noble woman, who has given the best energies of
her life to the cause, who shared the campaigns of Sicily
snd Calabria, and even went under fire at Monte Rotondo
and Mentana to succor the wounded. Probably no two
persons had a better right to claim the courtesy of Gari-
baldi in favor of one, who, though a stranger, was yet an
ardent friend.
The Hotel Remigio directly fronted the quay. No sign
announced its character, but the first room we entered had
a billiard-table, beyond which was a kitchen. Here we
found La Remigia, who conducted us up a sumptuous stair-
case of black and white marble (unwashed) into a shabby
Jining-room, and then left us to prepare coffee. A dooi
into an adjoining apartment stood half-open. I looked in,
but seeing a naked leg stretched out upon a dirty blanket,
made a speedy retreat. In a quarter of an hour coffee
came, without milk, but with a bottle of rum instead. The
servitress was a little girl, whose hands were of so ques-
tionable a complexion, that we turned away lest we should
see her touch the cups. I need not say that the beverage
was vile ; the reader will have already guessed that.
We summoned La Remigia, to ascertain whether a
breakfast was possible. " Eh, che vuole ? " (" What can you
428 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
expect ? ") said she. " This is a poor little island. What
would you like to have ? "
Limiting our wishes to the probabilities of the place, we
modestly suggested eggs and fish, whereat La Remigia
looked relieved, and promised that we should have both.
Then, although the heat was furious, I went forth for a*
stroll along the shore. A number of bronze boys had
pulled off their tow shirts, and were either sitting naked
on the rocks, or standing in the shallow coves, and splash-
ing each other with scallop-shells. Two or three fishing-
boats were lazily pulling about the strait, but the greater
part of the population of Maddalena sat in the shade and
did nothing.
The place contains about fifteen hundred inhabitants,
but scarcely one half that number were at home. The
others were sailors, or coral fishers, who are always absent
during the summer months. The low, bright-colored
houses are scattered along the shore, in such order as the
huge, upheaved masses of granite will allow, and each
street terminates in a stony path. In the scanty garden-
inclosures, bristling masses of the fruit-bearing cactus over-
hang the walls, repellant as the rocks from which they
spring. Evidently the place supplies nothing except the
article of fish ; all other necessaries of life must be brought
from Sardinia. The men are principally pensioned vet-
erans of the Italian navy, who are satisfied with the sight
of blue water and passing vessels ; the women (rock-
widows, one might call them), having the very simplest
household duties to perform, usually sit at their doors,
with some kind of knitting or netting, and chatter with
their nearest neighbors. I had scarcely walked a quarter
of a mile before the sleepy spirit of the place took hold of
my feet, and I found myself contemplating the shadowy
spots among the rocks, much more than the wild and
rugged island scenery across the strait.
Garibaldi's house on Caprera flashed 'n the sun, and
THE ISLAND 01 MAI DALENA. 429
after a while I saw a boat pulling away from the landing-
place below it. I returned to the harbor to meet the boat
man, and receive the answer which my letters required
It was a red-headed fellow, with a face rather Scotch than
Italian, and a blunt, direct manner of speech which cor-
responded thereto.
" The General says he is not well, and can't see you,"
said he.
" Have you a letter ? " I asked.
" No ; but he told me so."
' He is sick, then ? "
" No," said the boatman, " he is not sick."
" Where did you see him ? "
" Out of doors. He went down to the sea this morning
and took a bath. Then he worked in the garden."
The first sensation of a man who receives an unexpected
blow is incredulity, and not exasperation. It required a
slight effort to believe the boatman's words, and the next
impression was that there was certainly some misunder-
standing. If Garibaldi were well enough to walk about
his fields, he was able to receive a visitor ; if he had read
the letters I forwarded, a decent regard for the writers
would have withheld him from sending a rude verbal an-
swer by the mouth of a boatman. The whole proceeding
was so utterly at variance with all I had heard of his per-
sonal refinement and courtesy, that I was driven to the
suspicion that his followers had suppressed the letters, and
represented me, perhaps, as a stranger of not very repu-
table appearance.
Seeing that we were stranded for three days upon Mad*
dalena, until the steamer returned from Porto Tor 'es.
I determined to assure myself whether the suspicion
was just. I could, at least, give the General a chance to
correct any misunderstanding. I therefore wrote a note,
mentioning the letters and the answer I had received
through the boatman ; referring to other friends of his in
430 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
America and Italy, whom I knew ; assuring him that I had
had no intention of thrusting myself upon his hospitality,
but had only meant to desire a brief personal interview.
I abstained, of course, from repeating the request, as he
would thus be able to grant it more gracefully, if a misrep-
resentation had really been made. Summoning the red-
headed boatman, I gave him the note, with the express
command that he should give it into Garibaldi's own
hands, and not into those of any of the persons about him.
La Remigia gave us as good a breakfast as the house
could furnish. The wine was acutely sour, but the fish
were fresh and delicate. Moreover, the room had been
swept, and the hands of the little servant subjected to
a thorough washing. There was a dessert of cherries,
brought all the way from Genoa, and then the hostess, as
she brought the coffee, asked : " When will your Excel-
lencies go to Caprera? "
" If the General is sick," I remarked, " we shall prob-
ably not be able to see him."
" He was not well two or three weeks ago," said she ;
" he had the rheumatism in his hands. But now he goes
about his fields the same as before."
A second suspicion came into my head. What if the
boatman should not go to ' Caprera with my letter, but
merely sleep two or three hours in the shade, and then
come back to me with an invented verbal answer ? It was
now high noon, and a truly African sun beat down on the
unsheltered shores. The veterans had been chased from
their seats on the quay, and sat in dozing, silent rows on
the shady sides of the houses. A single boat, with sail
spread, hardly moved over the dazzling blue of the harbor,
There was no sign of active life anywhere, except in the
fleas.
Leaving my wife in La Remigia's care, I took one of the
rough paths behind the town, and climbed to a' bold mass
of rocks, which commanded a view of the strait from Ca
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 431
prera to Sardinia. Far off, beyond the singular horns and
needles of rock, cresting the mountains of the latter island,
a thunder-gust was brewing ; but the dark, cool shadows
there only served, by contrast, to make the breathless heat
on Maddalena more intense. Nevertheless, a light wind
fir ally came from somewhere, and I stretched myself out
on the granite, with Caprera before my eyes, and reflected
on the absurdity of any one human being taking pains to
make the acquaintance of any other particular human
being, while I watched the few boats visible on the surface
of the water below. One, rowing and sailing, rounded the
point of San Stefano, and disappeared ; another crept
along the nearer shore, looking for fish, coral, or sponges ;
and a third, at last, making a long tack, advanced into the
channel of La Moneta, in front of Garibaldi's residence.
It was Red-head, honestly doing his duty. Two or three
hours went by, and he did not return. When the air had
been somewhat cooled by the distant thunder, we set forth
to seek the English recluse. The path followed the coast,
winding between rocks and clumps of myrtle in blossom,
until the villa looked down upon us from the head of a
stony dell. On three sides, the naked granite rose in ir-
regular piles against the sky, while huge blocks, tumbled
from above, lay scattered over the scanty vineyards below.
In sheltered places there were a few pines and cedars, of
stunted growth. The house, perched upon a mass of rock
forty or fifty feet high, resembled a small fortress. As we
approached it, over the dry, stony soil, the bushes rustling
as the lizards darted through them, the place assumed an
air of savage loneliness. No other human dwelling was
visible on any of the distant shores, and no sail brightened
tho intervening water.
The Englishman came forth and welcomed us with a
O
pleasant, old-fashioned courtesy. A dark-eyed Sardinian
lady, whom he introduced to us as his daughter-in-law, and
her father, were his temporary guests. The people after
432 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
wards told me, in Maddalena, that he had adopted and
educated a Neapolitan boy, who, however, had turned out
to be a mauvafs sujet. We were ushered into a large
vaulted room, the walls of which, to my astonishment, were
covered with admirable paintings genuine works of the
Flemish and Italian masters. There was a Cuyp, a Paul
Potter, a Ruysdael, a Massimo, and several excellent pic-
tures of the school of Corregio. A splendid library filled
the adjoining hall, and recent English and Italian news-
papers lay upon the table. I soon perceived that our host
was a man of unusual taste and culture, who had studied
much and travelled much, before burying himself in this
remote corner of the Mediterranean. For more than
twenty years, he informed us, the island had been his
home. He first went thither accidentally, in his search for
health, and remained because he found it among those
piles of granite and cactus. One hardly knows whether to
admire or commiserate such a life.
Our host, however, had long outlived his yearning for
the busy world of men. His little plantation, wrung from
Nature with immense labor and apparently great expense,
now absorbed all his interest. He had bought foreign
trees Mexican, African, and Australian and set them
in sheltered places, built great walls to break the sweep of
the wind which draws through the Straits of Bonifacio,
constructed tanks for collecting the rains, terraces for vine-
yards, and so fought himself into the possession of a little
productive soil. But the winds kept down the growth of
his pines, the islanders cut his choicest trees and carried
them off for fire-wood, and it was clear that the scanty be-
ginnings we saw were tne utmost he would be able to keep
and hold against so many hostile influences.
After we had inspected the costly picture-gallery, and
partaken of refreshments, he took us to his orange-garden,
a square inclosure, with walls twenty feet high, at the foot
of the rocks. The interior was divided by high rampart*
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 433
of woven brushwood into compartments about thirty feet
square, each of which contained half a dozen squat, bat
tered-looking trees, I should have imagined the outer
walls high enough to break the strongest wind, but our
host informed me that they merely changed its character,
giving to the current a spiral motion which almost pulled
the trees out of the earth. The interior divisions of brush-
wood were a necessity. Above the house there was a sim-
ilar inclosure for pear and apple trees. The vines, kept
close to the earth, and tied to strong stakes, were more
easily tended. But the same amount of labor and ex-
pense would have created a little paradise on the shores of
Sorrento, or the Riviera di Ponente; in fact, as many
oranges might have been raised in Minnesota, with less
trouble.
According to the traditions of the people, the whole isl-
and was wooded a hundred and fifty years ago. But, as
savage tribes worship trees, so the first inclination of the
civilized man is to destroy them. I still hold to the be-
lief that the disforested Levant might be reclothed in fifty
years, if the people could be prevented from interfering
with the young growth.
When we reached Maddalena, the boatman had re-
turned from Caprera. This time he brought me a note,
in Garibaldi's handwriting, containing two or three lines,
which, however, were not more satisfactory than the previ-
ous message. " Per motivo de miei incomodi " (on account
of my ailments), said the General, he could not receive
me. This was an equivocation, but no explanation. His
motive for slighting the letters of two such friends, and re-
fusing to see one who had come to Maddalena to testify a
sympathy and respect which had nothing in common with
the curiosity of the crowd, remained a mystery. In the
little fishing-village, where nothing could long be kept
secret, the people seemed to be aware of all tha 4 had oc-
curred. They possessed too much natural tact and deli
28
484 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
cacy to question us, but it was easy to see that they wei
much surprised. Red-head made quite a long face when
I told him, after reading the letter, that I should not need
his boat for a trip to Caprera.
After allowing all possible latitude to a man's individual
right to choose his visitors, the manner in which my appli-
cation had been received still appeared to me very rude
and boorish. Perhaps one's first experience of the kind is
always a little more annoying than is necessary; but the
reader must consider that we had no escape from the burn-
ing rocks of Maddalena until the third day afterwards, and
the white house on Caprera before our eyes was a constant
reminder of the manner or mood of its inmate. Questions
of courtesy are nearly as difficult to discuss as questions of
taste, each man having his own private standard ; yet, I
think, few persons will censure me for having then and
there determined that, for the future, I would take no par-
ticular pains to seek the acquaintance of a distinguished man.
We were fast on Maddalena, as I have said, and the
most we could make of it did not seem to be much. I
sketched a little the next morning, until the heat drove me
indoors. Towards evening, following La Remigia's coun-
sel, we set forth on a, climb to the Guardia Vecchia, a
deserted fortress on the highest point of the island. Thun-
der-storms, as before, growled along the mountains of Sar-
dinia, without overshadowing or cooling the rocks of the
desert archipelago. The masses of granite, among which
we clambered, still radiated the noonday heat, and the
clumps of lentisk and arbutus were scarcely less arid in
appearance than the soil from which they grew. Over the
summit, however, blew a light breeze. We pushed open
the door of the fort, mounted to a stone platform with ram-
parte pierced for six cannon, and sat down in the shade of
the watch-tower. The view embraced the whole Strait of
Bonifacio and its shores, from the peak of Incudine in Cor-
sica, to the headland of Terranova, on the eastern < oast of
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 435
Sardinia. Two or three villages, high up on the mountains
of the latter island, the little fishing-town at our feet, the
far-off citadel of Bonifacio, and still persistently visible
the house on Caprera, rather increased than removed
the loneliness and desolation of the scenery. Island rising
behind island thrust up new distortions of rock of red or
hot-gray hues which became purple in the distance, and the
dark-blue reaches of sea dividing them were hard and life-
less as plains of glass. Perhaps the savage and sterile
forms of the foreground impressed their character upon
every part of the panorama, since we knew that they were
everywhere repeated. In this monotony lay something
sublime, and yet profoundly melancholy.
As we have now the whole island of Caprera full and
fair before us, let us see what sort of a spot the hero of
Italian Unity has chosen for his home. I may at the same
time, without impropriety, add such details of his life and
habits, and such illustrations of his character, as were
freely communicated by persons familiar with both, during
our stay in Maddalena.
Caprera, as seen from the Guardia Vecchia, is a little
less forbidding than its neighbor island. It is a mass of
reddish-gray rock, three to four miles in length and not
more than a mile in breadth, its axis lying at a right angle
to the course of the Sardinian coast. The shores rise
steeply from the water to a central crest of naked rock,
some twelve hundred feet above the sea. The wild shrub-
bery of the Mediterranean myrtle, arbutus, lentisk, and
box is sprinkled over the lower slopes, and three or four
lines of bright, even green, betray the existence of ter-
raced grain-fields. The house, a plain white quadrang'e,
two stories in height, is seated on the slope, a quarter of a
mile from the landing-place. Behind it there are fields
and vineyards, and a fertile garden-valley called the Fon-
tanaccia. which are not visible from Maddalena. The
house, in its present commodious form, w^< built by Victor
436 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
Emanuel, during Garibaldi's absence from the island, and
without his knowledge. The latter has spent a great deal
of money in wresting a few fields from the unwilling rock,
and his possession, even yet, has but a moderate value.
The greater part of the island can only be used as a range
for cattle, and will nourish about a hundred head.
Garibaldi, however, has a great advantage over all the
political personages of our day, in the rugged simplicity of
his habits. He has no single expensive taste. Whether
he sleeps on a spring -mattress or a rock, eats filet or fish
and macaroni, is all the same to him nay, he prefers the
simpler fare. The persons whom he employs eat at the
same table with him, and his guests, whatever their char-
acter or title, are no better served. An Englishman who
went to Caprera as the representative of certain societies,
and took with him, as a present, a dozen of the finest hams,
and four dozen bottles of the choicest Chateau Margaux,
was horrified to find, the next day, that each gardener,
herdsman, and fisherman at the table had a generous lump
of ham ^>n his plate and a bottle of Chateau Margaux
beside it ! Whatever delicacy comes to Garibaldi is served
in the same way ; and of the large sums of money contrib-
uted by his friends and admirers, he has retained scarcely
anything. All is given to " The Cause."
Garibaldi's three prominent traits of character hon-
esty, unselfishness, and independence are so marked,
and have been so variously illustrated, that no one in Italy
(probably not even Pius IX. or Antonelli) dares to dis-
pute his just claim to them. Add the element of a rare
and inextinguishable enthusiasm, and we have the qualities
which have made the man. He is wonderfully adapted to
be the leader of an impulsive and imaginative people, dur-
"ng those periods when the rush and swell of popular senti-
ment overbears alike diplomacy and armed force. Such a
time came to him in 1860, and the Sicilian and Calabrian
campaign will always stand as the climax of his achieve
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 437
nients I do not speak of Aspromonte or Mentana now ;
The history of those attempts cannot be written un*il Gari-
baldi's private knowledge of them may be safely made
known to the world.
It occurred to me, as I looked upon Caprera, that only
an enthusiastic, imaginative nature could be content to live
in such an isolation. It is hardly alone disgust with the
present state of Italy which keeps him from that seat in
the Italian Parliament, to which he is regularly reelected.
He can neither use the tact of the politician, nor employ
the expedients of the statesman. He has no patience with
adverse opinion, no clear, objective perception of character,
no skill to calculate the reciprocal action and cumulative
force of political ideas. He simply sees an end, and strikes
a bee-line for it. As a military commander he is admir-
able, so long as operations can be conducted under his im-
mediate personal control. In short, he belongs to that
small class of great men, whose achievements, fame, and
influence rest upon excellence of character and a certain
magnetic, infectious warmth of purpose, rather than on
high intellectual ability. There may be wiser Italian pat-
riots than he ; but there is none so pure and devoted.
From all that was related to me of Garibaldi, I should
judge that his weak points are, an incapacity to distin-
guish between the steady aspirations of his life and those
sudden impulses which come to every ardent and passion-
ate nature, and an amiable weakness (perhaps not dis-
connected from vanity) which enables a certain class of
adventurers to misuse and mislead him. His impatience
of contrary views naturally subjects him to the influence
of the latter class, whose cue it is to flatter and encourage.
I know an American general whose reputation has been
much damaged in the same way. The three men who
were his companions on Caprera during my stay in Mad-
dalena were Basso, who occasionally acts as secretary; he
whom I termed the Prophet, a certain Dr. Occhipinti
438 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
(Painted Eyes), a maker of salves and pomatums, and
Guzmaroli, formerly a priest, and ignominiously expelled
from Garibaldi's own corps. There are other hangers-on,
whose presence from time to time in Caprera is a source
of anxiety to the General's true friends.
Caprera formerly belonged to an English gentleman, a
passionate sportsman, who settled there thirty years ago on
account of the proximity of the island to the rich game
regions of Sardinia. Garibaldi, dining with this gentle-
man at Maddalena in 1856, expressed his desire to procure
a small island on the coast for his permanent home, where-
upon the former offered to sell him a part of Caprera at
cost The remainder was purchased by a subscription
made in England, and headed by the Duke of Sutherland.
I was informed that Garibaldi's faithful and noble-hearted
friends. Colonel and Mrs. Chambers of Scotland, had done
much towards making the island productive and habitable,
but I doubt whether its rocks yet yield enough for the sup-
port of the family.
The General's oldest son, Menotti, his daughter Teresa,
her husband Major Canzio, and their five children, Mameli,
Anzani, Lincoln, Anita, and John Brown, have their home
at Caprera. Menotti is reported to be a good soldier and
sailor, but without his father's abilities. The younger son,
Ricciotti, spends most of his time in England. Teresa,
however, is a female Garibaldi, full of spirit, courage, and
enthusiasm. She has great musical talent, and a voice
which would give her, were there need, a prima donna's
station in any theatre. Her father, also, is an excellent
singer, and the two are fond of making the rocks of Ca-
prera resound with his Inno ai Romani.
Garibaldi was born at Nice in 1807, and is therefore now
sixty-ont, years old. His simple habits of life have pre
served his physical vigor, but he suffers from frequent se
vere attacks of rheumatism. The wound received at Aspro-
monte, I was told, no longer occasions him inconvenience
THE ISLAND OP MADDALENA. 439
In features and complexion he shows his Lombard and Ger-
man descent. His name is simply the Italian for Heribalc(
11 bold in war." In the tenth century Garibald I. and II.
were kings of Bavaria. In fact much of the best blood of
Italy is German, however reluctant the Italians may be to
acknowledge the fact. The Marquis D'Azeglio, whose
memoirs have recently been published, says in his auto-
biographical sketch, " Educated in the hatred of the Tedes-
chi (Germans), I was greatly astonished to find from my
historical studies, that I was myself a Tedesco" The
"pride of race" really is one of the absurdest of human
vanities. I have heard half-breed Mexicans boast of their
" Gothic blood," born Englishmen who settled in Virginia
talk of their " Southern blood," and all the changes rung on
Cavalier, Norman, or Roman ancestry. The Slavic Greeks
of Athens call themselves " Hellenes," and Theodore of
Abyssinia claimed a direct descent from Solomon. Gari-
baldi might have become purely Italian in name, as Duca
di Calatafimi, if he had chosen. His refusal was scarcely a
virtue, because the offer of the title was no temptation.
The strait opening eastward to the sea was not wholly in
sight from the Guardia Vecchia, but we saw enough of it to
enable us to track the path of Garibaldi's escape, the previ-
ous October. An intervening point hid the cove of Stag-
natello, where he embarked in his little boat called " The
Snipe " (beccacino) : yet its position was shown by the Punta
dell' Arcaccio beyond. On the Maddalena shore we saw
the gardens and cottage of the English lady, the " Hermit-
ess of La Moneta," who received him after his passage of
the strait, and concealed him the following day. While he
was thus concealed, he wrote an account of the adventure
for his daughter Teresa, yet so evidently with an eye to its
future publication, that its style unconsciously reflects the
vein of vanity which runs through his character. Before
leaving his imprisonment at Varignano, he gave permission
to the Frau von S , an intimate friend, to publish a
440 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
German translation, from which I take the chief part of
the narrative The Italian original has not yet been pub-
lished.
Garibaldi, who speaks of himself in the third person,
as " The Solitary," left his house on the evening of the 14th
of October (1867), accompanied by two friends, Frosci-
anti and Barberini, and a boatman whom he calls Gio-
vanni. They descended through the valley of the Fontanac-
cia to the cove of Stagnatello, off which, in the strait, the
Italian war-steamers lay at anchor. What followed must
be given in his own words :
'' Having reached the wall " (at the bottom of the culti-
vated fields of the Fontanaccia), " the Solitary took off his
poncho, and exchanged his white hat for a cap of his son,
Menotti. He gave the garments, which he had removed,
to Barberini, and after he had convinced himself that
there was no one on the other side of the wall, he climbed
upon it, and sprang down, with an astonishing activity.
" A memory of his adventurous youth inspired him, and
he felt himself twenty years younger. Besides, were not
his sons and his companions in arms already fighting
the mercenaries of the priestly power? Could he keep
quiet? content himself with the pruning of his trees, and
lead the shameful life of the moderati? When the Sol-
itary was fortunately over the wall, he said to Barberini :
' It is still too bright ; we will wait a little while here, and
smoke half a cigar.' Thereupon he drew a match-box
it was a treasured souvenir of the amiable Lady S. out
of his left pocket, used it, and then offered his lighted
' cavour ' to his companion, who had a cigarette in readi-
ness. The Solitary is accustomed to cut these long,
black Tuscan cigars through the middle, and only smoke
half a one at a time.
" Soon the nightly shadows began to obscure the atmos-
ohere, but in the east a faint gleam made itself seen as the
Herald of the approaching queen of night
THE ISLAND OF MADI AJLENA. 441
" ' Within three-quarters of an hour the moon will have
risen behind the mountains,' remarked the Solitary ; ' we
dare not longer delay.'
" Both men arose and betook themselves to the little
harbor. Giovanni was there at his post, and with his and
Barberini's help, the beccacino was soon launched upon the
water. This is our smallest boat, designed for duck-shoot-
ing, and so flat that the one person who- has room therein
must lie upon the bottom and propel it with a paddle. In
a moment the Solitary took his place, lying flat upon his
poncho. After Giovanni had pushed the light vessel into
the sea, and convinced himself that everything was prop-
erly arranged, he himself got into the becca, a boat built
exactly like the beccacino, only of greater dimensions, and
rowed, singing loudly, in the direction of the yacht
" ' Halt ! who goes there ? ' called out the marines of the
war-vessels, degraded to alguazik, to police-servants, hail-
ing the boat of the Sardinian, who, meanwhile, did not
allow himself to be disturbed either in his song or his jour-
ney.
" But when a third challenge came to his ears he an-
swered : ' I am going on board ! ' for, however without re-
sult the musket-shots might be in the darkness, they never
fail to strike an inexperienced man with terror. The Sol-
itary, now propelling his beccacino with strokes, now with a
small paddle, as is customary with the American canoes,
followed his course along the shore of Paviano, between
the cove of Stagnatello and the cape of Arcaccio ; and
verily the humming-bird, fluttering around the fragrant
flowers of the torrid zone, and sipping their honey in
the manner of the industrious bee, is more noisy than was
the light beccacino, as it rapidly shot over the bosom
of the Tyrrhene sea. Arrived at the Punta dell' Arcac-
cio, the Solitary recognized the faithful Froscianti among
the lofty masses of stone. 'Nothing new as far as the
rocks of Arcaccio,' whispered the latter from a distance.
44 2 BY-WAYS 01
Then I am safe ! ' replied the Solitary, directing hi*
boat with increasing swiftness past the steep cliffs, un-
til he reached a point whence he could see the little Rab-
bit Isle (the southernmost of three which inclose the
harbor of Stagnatello) and then struck out boldly on the
sea, in a northwestern direction.
" As the Solitary perceived how fast the moonlight in-
creased, he paddled more rapidly, and, driven by the si-
rocco, his boat passed the Strait de la Moneta with a swift-
ness which a steamer might have envied.
" By moonlight and seen at a certain distance, each rock
rising out of the sea more or less resembles a vessel, and
since the commander of the Ratazzi squadron had laid a
requisition upon all the barks of Maddalena in order to
increase the number of boats with which he besieged
Caprera, it appeared as if the little archipelago of Moneta
swarmed with shallops and boats, all for the purpose of hin-
dering one man in the performance of his duty.
" As soon as the Solitary had reached the little island of
Giardinelli, off the northeastern coast of Maddalena, he
turned the beccacino into the labyrinth of rocky reefs,
which lift themselves like a bulwark along the shore, and
from out this secure concealment he sharply inspected the
coast, stretching before him in the light of the moon.
" When the Solitary found himself near the island of
Giardinelli, he saw that there were three different ways by
which he could reach the channel separating it from Mad-
dalena : by water, paddling around it either on the northern
or the southern side, or by landing and crossing the island
on foot. After full consideration, he determined to try the
latter plan.
" Whether it was owing to the skill of the boatman of the
beccacino, or the neglect of the unsuspicious, sleeping senti-
nels, I will not discuss ; but this is certain, that the Sol-
itary landed upon Giardinelli, not only with a whole skin,
but without being disturbed by a single ' Who goes thore ? '
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 44S
Yet he had scarcely hauled his skiff ashore before he noticed
that there were many impediments in his way to the chan
ael ; since the island, which serves as a pasture to the cat-
tle of Maddalena, is divided into several fields, all of which
are inclosed by high walls, covered with thorny shrubs.
" When, after many detours and much break-neck climb-
ing, the Solitary was about to pass the last of these walls,
he imagined that he saw on the other side a row of crouch-
ing sailors. If this were no optical delusion, it would not
have surprised him in the least, since it had been reported
to him on Caprera, that several seamen and soldiers had
landed on the island in the course of the day. The loss
of time, which this circumstance occasioned to the Solitary
explained also to him, why two of his friends, whom he
should have found near the channel, were not at their
posts.
" It was not until ten o'clock, and after he had looked
very sharply about him, that the Solitary undertook to cross
the shallow arm of the sea which divides Giardinelli from
Maddalena. He had not taken ten steps when loud calls
from the watching war-vessels, accompanied with musket-
shots, were heard but this did not disconcert the Solitary
in his zealous passage through the salt flood. He soon had
the critical passage behind him, and set foot upon Madda-
lena. But a very fatiguing way was still before him, for
his boots, filled with water, creaked and incommoded him
on the uneven ground.
" When, finally, the sight of the house of Mrs. C.
showed the Solitary the vicinity of a hospitable refuge, he
strode more cautiously forward, through fear that the villa
might be surrounded by spies ; and only when a cloud
covered the moon, did he dare to knock lightly upon one
of the windows with his Scotch stick. Mrs. C., however,
had had faith in the Solitary's lucky star. Advised in ad-
vance of his plan, she had been keenly listening to his foot-
steps, so that at the first tap on the window, she hurried
444 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
from the door, and welcomed her old neighbor with hei
accustomed gracious smile."
O
All the next day Garibaldi remained concealed in the
English lady's cottage. The following night he crossed
from the northern shore of Maddalena to Sardinia, where
his friends had a sloop in readiness. In three or four days
more he was in Tuscany, and the Italian Government was
astounded at his appearance in Florence before his escape
from Caprera had been discovered by the blockading
squadron.
While upon the rocky summits of Maddalena, we made
search for the former dwellings of the inhabitants, but be-
came bewildered in the granite labyrinth, and failed to find
them. The present village on the shore owes its existence
to Nelson. Previous to his day those waters were swept by
Barbary corsairs, and the people of the island, being with-
out protection, lived almost like troglodytes, in rude hovels
constructed among the rocks. Nelson, while in the Med-
iterranean, at the end of the last century, made Maddalena
one of his stations, and encouraged the inhabitants to come
forth from their hiding-places. On the altar of the church
in the town which they then began to build there are still
the silver candlesticks which he presented. This, and
Napoleon's previous attempt to gain possession of the
island, are the two incidents which connect Maddalena
with history.
We made a few other scrambles during our stay, but they
simply repeated the barren pictures we already knew by
heart. Although, little by little, an interest in the island
was awakened, the day which was to bring the steamer from
Porto Torres was hailed by us almost as a festival. But
the comedy (for such it began to seem) was not yet at an
end. 1 had procured the return tickets to Leghorn, and
was standing in Remigia's door, watching tne pensioners as
they dozed in the shade, when two figures appeared at the
end of the little street. One was Painted-Eyes, the makei
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA 445
of salves, and I was edified by seeing him suddenly turn
when he perceived me, and retrace his steps. The other,
who came forward, proved to be one of Garibaldi's strnich-
est veterans, a man who had been in his service twenty-
five years, in Montevideo, Rome, America, China, and
finally in the Tyrol.
" Where is the man who was with you ? " I asked.
" He was coming to the locanda," said he ; " but when
he saw you, he left ine without explaining why."
The veteran knew so much of what had happened that
I told him the rest. He was no less grieved than sur-
prised. His general, he said, had never acted so before ;
he had never refused to see any stranger, even though he
came without letters, and he was at a loss to account for it.
There was a stir among the idlers on the quay ; a thread
of smoke arose above the rocky point to the westward, and
welcome sight ! the steamer swept up and anchored
in the roadstead. La Remigia, who had been unremitting
in her attentions, presented a modest bill, shook hands
with us heartily, and Red-head, who was in waiting with
his boat, carried us speedily on board. The steamer was
not to leave for two hours more, but now the certainty of
escape was a consolation. The few islanders we had
known parted from us like friends, and even the boatman
returned to the deck on purpose to shake hands, and wish
us a pleasant voyage. I found myself softening towards
Maddalena, after all.
In one of the last boats came the same Occhipinti again,
accompanied by Guztnaroli, the ex-priest. The former
was bound for Leghorn, and the prospect of having him
for a fellow-passenger was not agreeable. He avoided
meeting us, went below, and kept very quiet during the
passage. I felt sure, although the supposition was dispar-
aging to Garibaldi, that this man was partly responsible
for the answer I had received.
446 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
A fresh breeze blew through the Strait of Bonifacio, ai <
we soon lost sight of the rocks which had been the scene
of our three days' Robinsoniad. The only other passen-
ger, by a singular coincidence, proved to be " the Hermit-
ess of La Moneta," as she is called on Maddalena, the
widow of the gentleman who sold Caprera to Garibaldi,
and herself one of the General's most trusted friends.
Through her, the island acquired a new interest. In the
outmost house on the spur which forms the harbor lay an
English captain, eighty years old, and ill ; in the sterile glen
to the north lived another Englishman alone among his
books and rare pictures ; and under a great rock, two miles
to the eastward, was a lonely cottage, opposite Caprera,
where this lady has lived for thirty years.
In the- long twilight, as the coast of Corsica sped by, we
heard the story of those thirty years. They had not dulled
the keen, clear intellect of the lady, nor made less warm
one human feeling in her large heart. We heard of trav-
els in Corsica on horseback nearly forty years ago ; of
lunching with bandits in the mountains ; of fording the
floods and sleeping in the caves of Sardinia ; of farm-life
(if it can be so called) on Caprera, and of twenty years
passed in the cottage of. La Moneta, without even a jour-
ney to the fishing-village. Then came other confidences,
which must not be repeated, but as romantic as anything
in the stories of the Middle Ages yet in all, there was
no trace of morbid feeling, of unused affection, of regret
for the years that seemed lost to us. Verily, though these
words should reach her eyes, I must say, since the chances
of life will scarcely bring us together again, that the fresh-
ness and sweetness with which she had preserved so many
noble womanly qualities in solitude, was to me a cheering
revelation of the innate excellence of human nature.
" Yet," she said, at the close, " I would never advise any
one to attempt the life I have led. Such a seclusion is
neither natural nor healthy. One may read, and one may
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 447
think ; but the knowledge lies in one's mind like an inert
mass, and only becomes vital when it is actively communi-
cated or compared. This mental inertness or deadness is
even harder to bear than the absence of society. But
there always comes a time when we need the face of a
friend the time that comes to all. No, it is not good to
be alone."
After all, we had not come to Maddalena in vain. We
had made the acquaintance of a rare and estimable nature
which is always a lasting gain, in the renewed faith it
awakens. The journey, which had seemed so wearisome
in anticipation, came rapidly to an end, and there was
scarcely a regret left for Caprera when we parted with the
Hermitess of Maddalena at Leghorn, the next afternoon.
A few days afterwards she sent me the original manuscript
of Garibaldi's " Hymn to the Romans," which he had pre-
sented to her. I shall value it as much for the giver's, as
for the writer's sake.
Our friends in Florence received the news of our adven-
ture with astonishment and mortification ; but, up to the
time of this present writing, the matter remains a mystery.
One conjecture was made, yet it seemed scarcely credible,
that Garibaldi was getting up a new expedition against
Rome.
A short time after my trip to Maddalena, a German
professor of note, who had a special interest in communi-
cating personally with Garibaldi, made the journey from
Germany for that solo purpose, and was similarly repelled.
IN THE TEUTOBURGER FOREST.
No part of Germany is so monotonous and unlovely aa
that plain which the receding waves of the North Sea left
behind them. The stranger who lands at Bremen or
Hamburg enters upon a dead, sandy level, where fields of
lean and starveling cereals interchange with heathery moor-
lands and woods of dwarfish pine. Each squat, ugly farm-
house looks as lonely as if there were no others in sight ;
the villages are collections of similar houses, huddled
around a church-tower so thick and massive that it seems
to be the lookout of a fortress. The patient industry of
the people is here manifested in its plainest and sturdiest
forms, and one cannot look for the external embellish-
ments of life, where life itself is so much of an achieve-
ment.
As we advance southward the scenery slowly improves.
The soil deepens and the trees rise ; the purple heather
clings only to the occasional sandy ridges, between which
greenest meadows gladden our eyes. Groves of oak make
their appearance ; brooks wind and sparkle among alder
thickets; the low undulations swell into broad, gently
rounded hills, and at last there is a wavy blue line along
the horizon. If you are travelling from Hanover to Min-
den, some one will point out a notch, or gap, in that rising
mountain outline, and tell you that it is the Porta West-
phalica the gateway by which the river Weser issues
from the Teutoburger Forest
I had already explored nearly every nook of Middle
Germany, from the Hartz to the Odenwald ; yet this the
storied ground of the race was still an unknown region.
Although so accessible, especially from the celebrated
4f)2 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
watering-place of Pyrmont, whence any of its many points
of interest may be reached in a day's drive, I found little
about it in the guide-books, and less in books of travel.
Yet here, one may say, is the starting-point of German
history. Hermann and Wittekind are the two great rep-
resentatives of the race, in its struggles against Roman
and Christian civilization ; and the fact that it adopted both
the one and the other, and through them developed into
its later eminence, does not lessen the value of those
names. Indeed, the power of resistance measures the
power of acceptance and assimilation.
It was harvest-time as I sped by rail towards Minden,
along the northern base of the mountains. Weeks of
drought and heat had forced the fields into premature ripe-
ness, and the lush green meadows were already waiting
for the aftermath. About Biickeburg the rye-fields were
full of reapers, in an almost extinct costume, the men
in heavy fur caps, loose white over-shirts, and boots reach-
ing to the knee ; the women with black head-dress, bodice,
and bright scarlet petticoat. These tints of white, scarlet,
and black shone splendidly among the sheaves, and the
pictures I saw made me keenly regret that progress has
rendered mankind so Commonplace in costume. When I
first tramped through Germany, in 1845, every province
had its distinctive dress, and the stamp of the country
people was impressed upon the landscapes of their homes ;
but now a great leveling wave has swept over the country,
washing out all these picturesque characteristics, and leav-
ing the universal modern commonplace in their stead. If
the latter were graceful, or cheap, or practically conven-
ient, we might accept the change ; but it is none of these.
Fashion has at last combined ugliness and discomfort in
our clothing, and the human race is satisfied.
Soon after leaving Minden the road bends sharply south-
wards, and enters the Porta West phalica a break in the
Weser mountains which is abrupt and lofty enough to pos-
IF THE TEUTOBURGER FOREST. 458
sess a certain grandeur. The eastern bank rises from the
water in a broken, rocky wall to the height of near five
hundred feet ; the western slants sufficiently to allow foot-
hold for trees, and its summit is two hundred feet higher.
The latter is called " Wittekind's Mount," from a tradition
that the famous Saxon king once had a fortress upon it
Somewhere in the valley which lies within this Westpha-
lian Gate is the scene of the last battle between Hermann
and Germanicus. Although the field of action of both
these leaders extended over the greater part of Northern
Germany, the chief events which decided their fortunes
took place within the narrow circle of these mountains.
I passed through Oeynhausen, a bright, cheerful wa-
tering-place, named after the enterprising baron who drove
an artesian shaft to the depth of two thousand feet, and
brought a rich saline stream to the surface, and at Her-
ford, the next station, left the line of rail. I looked in
vain for the towers of Enger, a league or so to the west,
where Wittekind died as a Christian prince, and where his
bones still rest. Before turning aside for Detmold and the
hills of the Teutoburger Forest, let me very briefly recall
the career of that spiritual successor of Hermann.
Nothing certain is known of Wittekind's descent or early
history. We first hear of -him as one of the leaders of the
Saxons in the invasion of Westphalia, which they under-
took in the year 774, while Charlemagne was occupied in
subduing the Lombards. Three years later, when this
movement was suppressed and the greater part of the
Saxon chiefs took the oath of fidelity to the Emperor at
Paderborn, Wittekind fled to the court of his brother-in-
law, King Siegfried of Jutland. He returned in 778, while
Charlemagne was in Spain, driving back the Saracens,
and devastated the lands of the Rhine. After carrying on
the war with varying success for four years, he finally sur-
prised and almost annihilated the Frank army at the Siin-
telberg, not far from Hameln, on the Weser. Enraged at
454 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
his defeat, Charlemagne took a horrible revenge : he exe
cuted forty-five hundred Saxons, who were in his hands
All the tribes rose in revolt, acknowledged Wittekind m
their king, and for three years more continued the desper-
ate struggle, the end of which was a compromise. Witte-
kind received Christian baptism, was made duke of Saxony,
and, according to tradition, governed the people twenty
years longer, from his seat at Enger, as a just and humane
prince. The Emperor Karl IV. there built him a monu-
ment in the year 1377.
At Herford I took my place in the diligence for Det-
mold, with a horse-dealer for company on the way. It wa?
a journey of three hours, through a very pleasant and
beautiful country, lying broad and warm in the shelter
of circling mountains, veined with clear, many-branched
streams, and wooded with scattered groves of oak and
beech. If there was any prominent feature of the scenery,
as distinguished from that of other parts of Germany, it
was these groves, dividing the bright meadows and the gol-
den slopes of harvest, with their dark, rounded masses of
foliage, as in the midland landscapes of England. The
hills to the south, entirely clothed with forests, increased
in height as we fo'xwed their course in a parallel line, and
long before we reached Detmold I saw the monument to
Hermann, crowning the Grotenburg, a summit more than
a thousand feet above the valley.
The little capital was holding its annual horse-fair, yet I
had no trouble in finding lodgings at one of its three inns,
and should have thought the streets deserted if I had not
been told that they were unusually lively. The princi-
pality of Lippe has a population of a little more than a
hundred thousand, yet none of the appurtenances of a
court and state are wanting. There is an old ancestral
castle, a modern palace, a theatre, barracks and govern-
ment buildings not so large as in Berlin, to be sure,
but just as important in the eyes of the people. A stream
tN THE TEUTOBUEGER FOREST. 45f
which comes down from the mountains feeds a broad, still
moat, encompassing three sides of the old castle and park
beyond which the fairest meadows stretch away to the set-
ting sun. Ducks and geese on the water, children pad-
dling in the shallows, cows coming home from the pastures,
and men and women carrying hay or vegetables, suggested
a quiet country village rather than a stately residmz ; but
I was very careful not to say so to any Detmolder. The
repose and seclusion of the place took hold of my fancy :
I walked back and forth, through the same streets and lin
den-shaded avenues in the long summer evening, finding
idyls at every turn ; but alas ! they floated formlessly by
and faded in the sunset.
Detmold is the birthplace of the poet Freiligrath, and I
went into the two bookstores to see if they kept his poems
which they did not Fifty years hence, perhaps, they
will have a statue of him. As I sat in my lonely room at
the inn, waiting for bedtime, my thoughts went back to
that morning by the lake of Zurich, when I first met the
banished poet ; to pleasant evenings at his house in Hack-
ney ; and to the triumphant reception which, at Cologne, a
few days before, had welcomed him back to Germany.
This was the end of twenty-three years of exile, the be-
ginning of which I remembered. Noble, unselfish, and
consistent as his political course had been, had he followed
it to his detriment as a poet, or had he bridged the gulf
which separates the Muses from party conflicts? That was
t.he question, and it was not so easy to resolve. Poesy will
theer as a friend, but she will not serve. She will not be
driven from that broad field of humanity, wherein the noise
of parties is swallowed up, and the colors of their banners
are scarcely to be distinguished. Freiligrath has written
the best political poems in the German language, and his
life has been the brilliant illustration of his principles ; yet
I doubt whether %i The Dead to the Living "w 11 outlive
the " Lion-Ride."
456 BY-WAY& Of EUROPE.
1 picked up, however, a. description of the Teutoburger
Forest, written by the Cantor Sauerlander of Detmold
a little book which no one but a full-blooded Teuton could
have written. Fatiguingly minute, conscientious to the last
degree, overflowing with love for the subject, exhaustive
on all points, whether important or not, the style or,
rather, utter lack of style so placed the unsuspecting au-
thor before the reader's mind, that it was impossible to
mistake him, a mild, industrious, harmless egotist, who
talks on and on, and never once heeds whether you are
listening to his chatter.
I took him with me, but engaged, in addition, a young
gardener of the town, and we set out in the bright, hot
morning. My plan for the day embraced the monument
to Hermann on the Grotenburg, the conjectured field of
the defeat of Varus, and the celebrated Extern Rocks.
Cool paths through groves of oak led from the town to the
foot of the mountain, having reached which I took out the
Cantor, and read : ' From this point to the near forest the
foot-path mounts by a very palpable grade, wherefore the
wanderer will find himself somewhat fatigued, besides suf-
fering (frequently) from the burning rays of the sun,
against which, however, it is possible to screen one's self
by an umbrella, for which reason I would venture to sug-
gest a moderate gait, and observant pauses at various
points ! " Verily, if his book had been specially prepared
for the reigning prince, Paul Friedrich Emil Leopold, he
could not have been more considerate.
The fatiguing passage, nevertheless, was surmounted in
ten minutes, and thenceforth we were in the shade of the
forest At about two thirds of the height the path came
upon a Hunenring, or Druid circle, one of the largest in Ger-
many. Jt is nearly five hundred feet in diameter, with
openings on the north and south, and the walls of rough
stones are in some places twenty feet high. Large trees
are growing upon them. There was another and greatef
IN THE TEUTOBURGER FOREST. 457
ring around the crest of the mountain, but it has been
thrown down and almost obliterated. German antiquari-
ans consider these remains as a sufficient evidence to prove
that this is the genuine Teutoburg, the fortress of Teut,
or Tuisco, the chief personage of the original Teutonic
mythology. They also derive the name of Detmold from
" laea malle," the place of Teut. There can be no doubt
as to the character of the circles, or their great antiquity ;
and, moreover, to locate the Teutoburg here explains the
desperate resistance of the tribes of this region both to
Rome and to Charlemagne.
Near the summit I found some traces of the greater
circle, many of the stones of which were used, very appro-
priately, for the foundation of the monument to Hermann.
This structure stands in an open, grassy space, inclosed
by a young growth of fir-trees. It is still incomplete ; but
we, who long ago stopped work on the colossal Washing-
ton obelisk, have no right to reproach the German people.
Thirty years ago the Bavarian sculptor Von Bandel exhib-
ited the design of a statue to Hermann. The idea ap-
pealed to that longing for German unity the realization of
which seemed then so far distant ; societies were formed,
collecti?ns made, fairs held for the object, and the temple-
shaped pedestal, commenced in 1841, was finished in
1846, at a cost of forty thousand thalers. The colossal
statue which should crown it demanded an equal sum
two thirds of which, I am told, has been contributed.
Parts of the figure have been already cast, and the
sculptor, no\v nearly seventy years old, still hopes to see
the dream of his life fulfilled. But the impression has
gone abroad that the strength of the winds, sweeping un-
checkc.. from the Rhine and from Norway across the
Northern Sea, is so great upon this Teutoburger height,
that the statue would probably be thrown down, if erected.
A committee of architects and engineers has declared that,
with proper anchorage, the figure will stand ; yet the con-
tributions have ceased.
458 BY-WAYS OF El, ROPE.
The design of the temple-base is very simple and
sive. On a circular foundation, sixty feet in diameter bj
eleven in height, stands a structure composed of tei clus-
tered pillars, connected by pointed arches, the outer spana
of which are cut to represent stems of oak, while heavy
garlands of oak-leaves are set in the triangular interspaces.
The first rude beginning of Gothic art is here suggested,
not as a growth from the Byzantine and Saracenic schools,
but as an autochthonous product Over the cornice, which is
fifty feet above the base, rises a solid hemisphere of ma-
sonry, terminating in a ring twenty-five feet in diameter,
which is to receive the metal base of the colossus. The
latter will be ninety feet in height to the point of the
sword, making the entire height of the monument a hun-
dred and eighty-two feet.
I mounted to the summit, and looked over the tops of
the forest upon a broad and beautiful panoramic ring of
landscape. The well-wooded mountains of the region
divided the rich valleys and harvest lands which they
inclosed. On all sides except the west they melted away
in the summer haze; there, they sank into the tawny
Westphalian plain, once the land of marshes, traversed
by the legions of Varus. While yonder, beyond the ring
of the forest sacred to Teut, the fields were withering
and the crops wasting in the sun, here they gave their
fullest bounty ; here the streams were full, the meadows
green, and the land laughed with its abundance. From
this point I overlooked all the great battle-fields of Her-
mann and Wittekind. The mountains do not constitute, as
1 had supposed, a natural stronghold ; but in their heart
lies the warmest and most fertile region of Northern Ger-
O
many.
In the neighboring hostelry there is a plaster model of
the waiting statue. Hermann, with the winged helmet
upon his head, and clad in a close leathern coat reaching
uearly to the knee, is represented as addressing his war-
IN THE TEUTOBUBGER FOBFST. 459
riors. The action of the uplifted arm is good, but the left
hand rests rather idly upon the shield, instead of uncon-
sciously repeating in the grip of the fingers the energy of
the rest of the figure. The face ideal, of course is
quite as much Roman as Teuton, the nose being aquiline,
the eyebrows straight, and the lips very clearly and regu-
larly cut. To me the physiognomy would indicate dark hair
and beard. I found the body somewhat heavy and un-
graceful ; but as it was to be seen from below, and in very
different dimensions, the effect may be all that is de-
signed.
In the Hall of Busts in the Museum of the Capitol, in
Borne, there is a head which has recently attracted the
interest of German archaeologists. It stands alone among
the severe Roman and the exquisitely balanced Grecian
heads, like a genial phenomenon of character totally distinct
from theirs. When I stood before it, a little puzzled, and
wondering at the absurd label of " CECROPS ? " affixed to
the pedestal, I had not learned the grounds for conjectur-
ing that it may be a portrait of him whom Tacitus calls
Arminius ; yet I felt that here was a hero, of whom history
must have some knowledge. It is certainly a blonde head,
with abundant locks, a beard sprouting thinly and later than
in the South, strong cheek-bones, a nose straight but not
Grecian, and lips which somehow express good fellowship,
vanity, and the habit of command. The sculptor Bandel
made a great mistake in not boldly accepting the conjec-
ture as fact, and giving Hermann this head. Dr. Emil
Braun considers that it is undoubtedly u bust of one of
the young German chiefs who were educated at the court
of Augustus ; and he adds, very truly, " If this can be
proven, it will be of great importance as a testimony of
the intellectual development of the German race, even in
those early times."
Hermann, who was born in the year 16s. c., must have
gone to Rome as a boy, during the campaigns of Drusus
460 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
and Tiberius in Northern Germany. He became not only
a citizen, but a Roman knight, was intrusted with the com
nnuid of a German legion, and fought in Pannonia. He
acquired the Latin tongue, and acquainted himself with
the military and civil science of the Romans. Had the
wise and cautious policy of Tiberius been followed, he
might have died as a Consul of the Empire ; but the
brutal rule of Varus provoked the tribes to resistance, and
Hermann became a German again. He turned against
Rome the tactics he had learned in her service, enticed
Varus away from the fortified line of the Rhine, across the
marshes of the Lippe, and on the southern slope of the
Teutoburger Forest, in a three days' battle fought amid
the autumn storms, annihilated the Roman army of fitly
thousand men. Well might the Imperial city tremble, and
the old Augustus cry out to the shade of the slain com-
mander, " Varus, Varus, give me back my legions ! "
For five years the sovereignty of Hermann and the in-
dependence of his people were not disturbed. But after
the death of Augustus, in the year 14 A. D., Germanicus
determined to restore the prestige of the Roman arms.
In the mean time Hermann had married Thusnelda,
daughter of Segestus, another chief of the Cheruski, who
had reclaimed her by force in consequence of a quarrel,
and was then besieged by his son-in-law. Segestus called
the Romans to his aid, and delivered Thusnelda into their
hands to grace, two years later, the triumph decreed to
Germanicus. Hermann, infuriated by the loss of a wife
whom he loved, summoned the tribes to war, and the
Roman commander collected an army of eighty thousand
men. The latter succeeded in burying the bones of Varus
and his legions, and was then driven back with great loss.
Returning in the year 16 with a still larger army, he met
the undaunted Hermann on the Weser, near Hameln.
The terrible battle fought there, and a second near the
P&rta Westphalioaj were claimed as victories by the
IN THE TEUTOBURGER FOREST. 461
Romans, yet were followed by a retreat to the fortresses
on the Rhine. Gerrnanicus was preparing a third cam-
paign when he was recalled by the jealous Tiberius. The
Romans never again penetrated into this part of Germany.
Hermann might have founded a nation but for the fierce
jealousy of the other chieftains of his race. He was vic-
torious in the civil wars which ensued, but was waylaid and
murdered by members of his own family in the year 21.
His short life of thirty-seven years is an unbroken story
of heroism. Even Tacitus, to whom we are indebted for
these particulars, says of him : " He was undoubtedly the
liberator of Germany, having dared to grapple with the
Roman power, not in its beginnings, like other kings and
commanders, but in the maturity of its strength. He was
not always victorious in battle, but in war he was never
subdued. He still lives in the songs of the Barbarians,
unknown to the annals of the Greeks, who only admire
that which belongs to themselves nor celebrated as he
deserves by the Romans, who, in praising the olden times,
neglect the events of the later years."
Leaving the monument, my path followed the crest of
the mountain for two or three miles, under a continuous roof
of beech. Between the smooth, clean boles I looked down
upon the hot and shining valley, where the leaves hung
motionless on the trees, but up on the shaded ridge of the
hills there was a steady, grateful breeze. The gardener
was not a very skillful guide, and only brought me to the
Winnefeld (Winfield) after a roundabout ramble. I found
myself at the head of a long, bare slope, falling to the
southwest, where it terminated in three dells, divided by
spurs of the range. The town of Lippspringe, in the dis-
tance, marked the site of the fountains mentioned by Taci-
itus. The Winnefeld lies on the course which an army
would take, marching from those springs to assault the
Teutobur, and the three dells, wooded then as now, would
O'
offer rare chances of ambuscade and attack. There is no
6*2 6Y-WAYS OP EUROPE.
difficulty in here locating the defeat of Varus. That the
Teuton victory was not solely the result of Hermann's
military skill is proven by the desperate bravery with
which his warriors confronted the legions of Germanicus
five years later.
Standing upon this famous battle-field, one cannot but
recall the subsequent relations of Germany and Rome,
which not only determined the history of the Middle Ages,
but set in action many of the forces which shape the pres-
ent life of the world. The seat of power was transplanted,
it was exercised by another race, but its elements were not
changed. Hermann, a knight of Rome, learned in her
service how to resist her, and it was still the Roman mind
which governed Italy while she was a defiant dependency
of the German Empire. Charlemagne took up the un-
completed work of Germanicus, and was the true avenger
of Varus after nearly eight hundred years. The career of
Hermann, though so splendidly heroic, does not mark the
beginning of Germany; the race only began to develop
after its complete subjection to the laws and arts and ideas
of Rome. Thus the marvelous Empire triumphed at
last
I descended the bare and burning slopes of the moun-
tain into a little valley, plunged into a steep forest beyond,
and, after plodding wearily for an hour or more, found my-
self, as nearly as I could guess, on the banks of a brook
that descends to the town of Horn. The gardener seemed
at fault, yet insisted on leading me contrary to my instinct
of the proper course. We had not gone far, however,
when a mass of rock, rising like a square tower above the
wooded ridge to the eastward, signaled our destination ;
and my discomfited guide turned about silently, and made
towards it, I following, through thickets and across swamps,
until we reached the highway.
The Extern Rocks (Exlernsteine) have a double interest
for the traveller. They consist of five detached masses
tK THE TEUTOBURGEiS FOREST. 468
of gray sandstone, one hundred and twenty-five feet in
height, irregularly square in form, and .vith diameter?
varying from thirty to fifty feet. They are planted on a
grassy slope, across the mouth of a glen opening from the
mountains. Only a few tough shrubs hang from the crev-
ices in their sides, but the birch-trees on the summits shoot
high into the air and print their sprinkled leaves on the
sky. The hills of the Teutoburger Forest are rounded and
cliffless, and the same formation, it is said, does not reap-
pear elsewhere.
In the base of the most northern of these rocks a chapel,
thirty-six feet long, has been hewn but when, or by
whom, are matters of conjecture. Some very imaginative
antiquaries insist that the Romans captured by Hermann
were here sacrificed to the pagan gods ; others find evi-
dence that the place was once dedicated to the worship of
Mithras (the sun) ; but the work must probably be ascribed
to the early Teutonic Christians. The rocks are first men-
tioned in a document of the year 1093. On the outer wall
of the chapel there is a tablet of sculpture, in high relief,
sixteen feet by twelve, which is undoubtedly the earliest
work of the kind in Germany. Its Byzantine character is
not to be mistaken, and, judging by the early Christian
sculptures and mosaics in Italy, it may be as old as the
ninth or tenth century. The tablet is in three compart-
ments, the lower one representing the Fall of Man, the
centre the Descent from the Cross, while at the top the
Almighty receives the soul of the Son in his arms, and
holds forth the Banner of the Cross. Although mutilated,
weather-beaten, and partly veiled in obscuring moss, the
pathos of the sculpture makes itself felt through all the
grotesqueness of its forms. Goethe, who saw it, says :
" The head of the sinking Saviour leans against the coun-
tenance of the mother, and is gently supported by her
hand a beautiful, reverent touch of expression which
we find in no other representation of the subject" Th
464 BY-WAYS DF EUROPE.
drapery also, ihough stiff, has yet the simplicity and dig-
nity which we so rarely find in modern art
Two of the rocks may be ascended by means of winding
stairways cut in their sides. On the summit of the first
there is a level platform, with a stone table in the centre
probably the work of the monks, to whom the place
belonged in the Middle Ages. By climbing the central
rock, and crossing a bridge to the next, one reaches a
second chapel, eighteen feet in length, with a rock-altar at
the further end. It is singular that there is no record of
the origin of this remarkable work. We know that the
spirit of the Teutonic mythology lived long after the intro-
duction of Christianity, and the monks may have here
found and appropriated one of its sacred places.
By the time I reached the town of Horn, a mile or so
from the base of the mountains, I was too scorched and
weary to go further afoot, and, while waiting dinner in the
guests'-room of the inn, looked about for a means of con-
veyance. Three or four stout Phi-lister, drinking beer at
an adjoining table, were bound for Steinheim, which was
on my way ; and the landlord said, " An ' extra post' will
be expensive, but these gentlemen might make room for
you in their carriage."
They looked at each other and at me. " We are already
seven" said one, " and must be squeezed as it is."
" By no means," I replied to the landlord ; " get me an
extra post."
Both vehicles were ready at the same time. In the
meantime I had entered into conversation with one of the
party, a bright, cheerful young man, and told him that
I should be glad to have company on the way.
" Why did you engage an extra post ? " they all ex
claimed. " It is expensive! we are only Jive; you might
have gone with us, we could easily make room for
you!"
Yet, while making these exclamations, they picked out
IN THE TEUTOBURGER FOREST. 465
the oldest and least companionable of their party, and
bundled him into my " expensive " carriage ! I never sa*
anything more coolly done. I had meant to have the
agreeable, not the stupid member, but was" caught, and
jould not help myself. However, I managed to extract a
little amusement from my companion as we went along.
He was a Detmolder, after confessing which he re-
marked,
" Now 1 knew where you came from before you had
spoken ten words."
Indeed ! Where, then ? "
Why, from Bielefeld ! "
My laughter satisfied the old fellow that he had guessed
correctly, and thenceforth he talked so much about Biele-
feld that it finally became impossible to conceal my igno-
rance of the place. I set him down in Steinheim, dis-
missed the extra post, and, as the evening was so bright
and balmy, determined to go another stage on foot. I had
a letter to a young nobleman, whose estate lay near a vil-
lage some four or five miles further on the road to Hoxter.
The small boy whom I took as guide was communicative ;
the scenery was of the sweetest pastoral character ; the
mellow light of sunset struck athwart the golden hills of
harvest, the lines of alder hedge, and the meadows of
winding streams, and I loitered along the road full of de-
light in the renewal of my old pedestrian freedom.
It was dusk when I reached the village. The one cot-
tage inn did not promise much comfort ; but the baron's
castle was beyond, and I was too tired to go further. The
landlord was a petty magistrate, evident!) one of the pillars
of the simple village society ; and he talked well and intel-
ligently, while his daughter cooked my supper. The bare
rooms were clean and orderly, and the night was so warm
that no harm was done when the huge globe of feathers
under which I was expected to sleep rolled off the bed and
lay upon the floor until morning.
30
466 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
Sending my letter to the castle, I presently received word
that the young baron was absent from home, but that his
mother would receive me. As I emerged from the shad-
ows of the narrow village street into the breezeless, burning
air of the morning, the whole estate lay full and fair in
view a thousand acres of the finest harvest land, lying
in the lap of a bowl-shaped valley, beyond which rose a
wooded mountain range. In the centre of the landscape
a group of immemorial oaks and lindens hid the castle
from view, but a broad and stately linden avenue connected
it with the highway. There were scores of reapers in the
fields, and their dwellings, with the barns and stables,
almost formed a second village. The castle a square
mass of building, with a paved court-yard in the centre
was about three hundred years old ; but it had risen upon
the foundations of a much older edifice.
The baroness met me at the door with her two daugh-
ters, and ushered me into a spacious room, the ceiling of
which, low and traversed by huge beams of oak, was sup-
ported by a massive pillar in the centre. The bare oaken
floor was brightly polished ; a gallery of ancestral por-
traits decked the walls, but the furniture was modern and
luxurious. After a friendly scolding for not claiming the
castle's hospitality the night before, one of the daughters
brought refreshments, just as a Burgfraulein of the Middle
Ages might have done, except that she did not taste the
goblet of wine before offering it The ladies then con-
ducted me through a range of apartments, every one of
which contained some picturesque record of the past. The
old building was pervaded with a mellow atmosphere of
age and use ; although it was not the original seat of the
family, their own ancestral heirlooms had adapted them-
selves to its physiognomy, and seemed to continue its tradi-
tions. Just enough of modern taste was visible' to suggest
home comforts and conveniences ; all else seemed as old
as the Thirty Years' War.
IK THE TEUTOBURGER FOBIST. 467
After inspecting the house, we issued upon the float
uunce a high bosky space resting on the outer wall of
the castle, and looking down upon the old moat, still par-
tially full of water. It was a labyrinth of "shady paths, of
arbors, with leaf-enframed windows opening towards the
mountains, and of open, sunny spaces rich with flowers.
The baroness called my attention to two splendid magno-
lia-trees, and a clump of the large Japanese polygonum.
" This," she said, pointing to the latter, " was given to my
husband by Dr. von Siebold, who brought it from Japan ;
the magnolias came from seeds planted forty years ago."
They were the most northern specimens of the trees I had
found upon the continent of Europe. But the oaks and
lindens around the castle were more wonderful than these
exotic growths. Each one was " a forest waving on a single
stem."
The young baron was not expected to return before the
evening, and I was obliged to continue my journey, though
every feature of the place wooed me to stay. " But at
least," urged the hostess, "you must visit my husband's
twin brother, who is still living at the old burg. We were
going to send for him to-day, and we will send you along.*'
This was a lift on my way ; and, moreover, it was a pleas-
ure to meet a gentleman of whom I had heard so much
o
a thinker, a man of scientific culture, and a poet, yet un-
known to the world in either of these characters.
The youngest daughter of the house made ready to ac-
company me, and presently a light open wagon, drawn by
a span of ponies, came to the door After my yesterday's
tramp in the forest it was a delightful change. The young
lady possessed as much intelligence as refinement, and with
her as a guide the rich scenery through which we passed
assumed a softer life, a more gracious sentiment. From
the ridge before us rose the lofty towers of a church at-
tached to an extinct monastery, the massive buildings of
which are now but half tenanted by some farmers ; on tbfl
468 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE.
right a warm land of grain stretched away to the Teuto
burger Forest ; on the left, mountains clothed with beech
and oak basked in the sun. We passed the monastery,
crossed a wood, and dropped into a wild, lonely valley
among the hills. Here the Oldenburg, as it is called, al-
ready towered above us, perched upon the bluff edge of a
mountain cape. It was a single square mass of the brownest
masonry, seventy or eighty feet high, with a huge, steep,
and barn-like roof. It dominated alone over the beech
woods ; no other human habitation was in sight.
When we reached the summit, however, I found that
the old building was no longer tenanted. Behind it lay a
pond, around which were some buildings connected with the
estate, and my fair guide led the way to the further door
of a house in which the laboring people lived. She went
to seek her uncle, while I waited in a room so plainly fur-
nished that an American farmer would have apologized for
it. Presently I was summoned up stairs, where the old
baron caught me by both hands, and pressed me down into
his own arm-chair before it was possible to say a word.
His room was as simple as the first ; but books and water-
color drawings showed the tastes of its occupant.
It was truly the head of a poet upon which I looked.
Deep-set, spiritual eyes shone under an expansive brow,
over which fell some thin locks of silky gray hair; the
nose was straight and fine, with delicate, sensitive nostrils,
and there was a rare expression of sweetness and purity
in the lines of the mouth. It needed no second glance to
see that the old man was good and wise and noble and per-
fectly lovable. My impulse was to sit on a stool at his
feet, as I have seen a young English poet sitting at the
feet of good Barry Cornwall, and talk to him with my
arms resting upon his knees. But he drew his chair close
beside me, and took my hand from time to time, as be
talked ; so that it was not long before our thoughts ran to-
gether, and each anticipated the words of the other.
IN THE TEUTOBUKGEB FOREST. 469
" Now tell me about my friend," said he. " "We were
inseparable as students, and as long as our paths lay near
each other. They say that three are too many for friend-
ship, but we twin-brothers only counted as one in the bond.
We had but one heart and one mind, except in matters of
science, and there it was curious to see how far apart we
sometimes were. Ah, what rambles we had together, in
Germany and on the Alps ! I remember once we were
merry in the Thiiringian Forest, for there was wine enough
and to spare ; so we buried a bottle deep among the rocks.
We had forgotten all about it when, a year or two after-
wards, we happened all three to come back to the spot, and
there we dug up the bottle, and drank what seemed to be
the best wine in the world. I wonder if he remembers
that I wrote a poem about it"
Then we walked out through the beech woods to a point
of the mountain whence there was a view of the monastery
across the wild valley. " It was but yesterday," said the
old baron, u since I stood here with my brother both
little boys and listened to the chimes of vesper. There
were monks in the old building then. What is life, after
all ? I don't understand it. My brother was a part of my-
self. We had but one life ; he married and his home was
mine ; his children are mine still. We were born together;
three years ago he died, and I should have died at the
same time. How is it that I live ? "
He turned to me with tears in his eyes 1 and a sad, mys-
terious wonder in his voice. I could only shake my head,
for he who could have answered the question would be
able to solve all the enigmas of life. The man seemed to
me like a semi-ghost, attached to the earth by only half the
relation of other men. " I live here as you see," he con-
tinued ; " but I am not lonely. All my life of seventy-
three years I have been laying aside interest for this sea-
son. I have still my thoughts and questions, as well as my
memories. I am part of the great design which I have
470 RY-WAYS OF EUROPfe.
always found in the world and in man, and 1 have learned
enough to accept what I cannot fathom."
These were brave and wise words, and they led on to
others, as we walked in the shadows of the beech woods,
until summoned to dinner. The baron's niece superin-
tended the meal, and a farmer's daughter waited at the
table. I was forced to decline a kind invitation to return
t the castle with the old man, and spend the night there
for I could take but a brief holiday in the Teutoburger
Forest. Then they proposed taking me to the town of
Hoxter, on the Weser, whither I was bound ; but while I
was trying to dissuade the young lady from a further drive
of ten miles, the sound of a horn suddenly broke the soli-
tude of the woods. A post-carriage came in sight, drove
to the door, and from it descended the Kreisrichter (Dis-
trict Judge), on a visit to the old baron. As I noticed that
he intended remaining for the night, I proposed taking the
carriage by which he had arrived, though I should have
preferred making the journey on foot.
It was so arranged, and half an hour afterwards I took
leave of the noble old man, with the promise which all
the battle-fields of Hermann and Wittekind would not have
suggested to me of some day returning to the Teuto-
burger Forest Leaving the mountains behind me, I fol-
lowed a road which slowly descended to the Weser through
the fairest winding valleys, and before sunset reached
Hoxter. A mile further, at the bend of the river, is the
ancient Abbey of Corvey, where, in the year 1515, the first
six books of the Annals of Tacitus, up to that time lost,
were discovered. The region which that great historian
has alone described, thus preserved and gave back to the
world a portion of his works.
HANNAH THURSTON
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE
BAYARD TAYLOR
AUTHOR'S REVISED EDITION
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, by
G. P. PUTNAM,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern
District of New York.
COPYUIGHT, 1801,
BY MARIE TAYLOR.
TO GEORGE P. PUTNAM.
Mi DEAB FRIEND :
WHEN I decided to write a brief letter of Dedication
for this book, and thus evade a Preface since all that
need be said to the reader can be said just as well, if not
better, to the friend I began to cast about in my mind
for the particular individual willing to stand by my side in
this new literary venture, deserving of all the fleeting com-
pliment which possible success may give, and too secure,
in the shelter of his own integrity, to be damaged by
whatever condemnation may fall upon the author. While
various cherished names arose, one after the other, the cab
in which I rode and meditated passed down .Regent Street
into Waterloo Place, and my eyes fell upon that door,
where, seventeen years ago, I entered for the first time
one dreary March afternoon entered as a timid, despond-
ing stranger, and issued thence with the cheer and encour-
agement which I owed to your unexpected kindness. The
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, by
G. P. PUTNAM,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern
District of New York.
COPYIUGHT. 1891,
BY MARIE TAYLOR.
TO GEORGE P. PUTNAM.
Mi DEAR FRIEND :
WHEN 1 decided to write a brief letter of Dedication
for this book, and thus evade a Preface since all that
need be said to the reader can be said just as well, if not
better, to the friend I began to cast about in iny mind
for the particular individual willing to stand by my side in
this new literary venture, deserving of all the fleeting com-
pliment which possible success may give, and too secure,
in the shelter of his own integrity, to be damaged by
whatever condemnation may fall upon the author. While
various cherished names arose, one after the other, the cab
in which I rode and meditated passed down .Regent Street
into Waterloo Place, and my eyes fell upon that door,
where, seventeen years ago, I entered for the first time
one dreary March afternoon entered as a timid, despond-
ing stranger, and issued thence with the cheer and encour-
agement which I owed to your unexpected kindness. The
4 DEDICATION.
conditions which I sought are all fulfilled in you. From
that day to this, in all our intercourse, I have found in you
the faithful friend, the man of unblemished honor and un
selfish ambition, to whom the author's interests were nevei
secondary to his own. According to the poet Campbell,
we should be " natural enemies," but I dedicate this book
to you as my natural friend.
1 am aware how much is required for the construction
of a good work of fiction how much I venture in entering
upon a field so different from those over which I have
hitherto been ranging. It is, however, the result of ne
sudden whim, no ambition casually provoked. The plan
of the following story has long been familiar to my mind.
I perceived peculiarities of development in American life
which have escaped the notice of novelists, yet which are
strikingly adapted to the purposes of fiction, both in the
originality and occasional grotesqueness of their external
manifestation, and the deeper questions which lie beneath
the surface. I do not, therefore, rest the interest of the
book on its slender plot, but on the fidelity with which it
represents certain types of character and phases of society.
That in it which most resembles caricature is oftenest the
transcript of actual fact, and there are none of the opinions
uttered by the various characters which may not now and
then be heard in almost any country community of the
DEDICATION. 9
Northern aud Western States. Whether those opinions
are to be commended or condemned, the personages of the
story are alone responsible for them. I beg leave, once
more, to protest against the popular superstition that an
author must necessarily represent himself in one form or
another. I am neither Mr. Woodbury, Mr. Waldo, nor
Seth Wattles.
This is all I have to say. The intelligent reader will
require no further explanation, and you no further assu-
rance of how steadily and faithfully I am your friend,
BAYARD T AYLOB.
WOOD'S HOTEL, LONDOV,
August, 1863.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER L
( WHICH WT& ATTEND THE GREAT SEWING- UNION AT PTOLBMT. .. ... 9
CHAPTER II.
If a WOODBURY'S INTRODUCTION TO LAKESIDE ...................... 21
CHAPTER HL
AN EVENING OP GOSSIP, IN WHICH WE LEARN SOMETHING ABOUT THE PER-
SONS ALREADY MENTIONED ..................................... 37
CHAPTER IY.
AN INTERVIEW ON THE ROAD, AND A NEW HOUSEHOLD ............. 48
CHAPTER V.
tS WHICH MR. WOODBURY HEARS A WOMAN SPEAK ................ 61
CHAPTER VL
IK WHICH LAKESIDE BECOMES LIVELY ............................. 71
CHAPTER VIL
WHAT HAPPENED DURING THE EVENING ......................... 90
CHAPTER VHL
IN WHICH MR. WOODBURY PAYS AN UNEXPECTED Viarr ............ 105
CHAPTER IX.
SPIRITUAL AND OTHER RAPPINGS ................................. 113
CHAPTER X.
L\ WHICH WE HEAR A DIVERTING STOEY .......................... 129
CHAPTER XL
CONTAINING Two DECLARATIONS, AND THE ANSWERS THERETO. ....... 143
CHAPTER XIL
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER ........................................ 156
CHAPTER
IN WHICH SPRING OPENS ........................................ 167
CHAPTER XTV.
CONTAINING CONVERSATIONS MORE IMPORTANT THAN THEY SESM TO BE 177
CHAPTER XV.
WHICH COMES NEAR BEING TRAGIC ............................... 18f
CHAPTER XVL
CONCERN-ING AN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY TO TIBERIUS. .............. 206
CHAPTER XYH.
WHICH SOLVES THE PRECEDING OKE .............................. 311
I CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XVIII. PAOi
OKI OF THK SUMMER DIVERSIONS OF PTOLEMY 233
CHAPTER XIX.
for WHICH THERE IS BOTH ATTRACTION AND REPULSION 24l
CHAPTER XX.
I* WHICH SETH WATTLES is AGAIN DISAPPOINTED 258
CHAPTER XXT.
W ITH AN ENTIRE CHANGE OF SCENE 269
CHAPTER TTTT
IK WHICH TROUBLE COMES TO LAKESIDE 281
CHAPTER XXIIL
J^HfCH CONTAINS BOTH LOVE AND DEATH 193
CHAPTER XXIV.
V ABJOUS CHANGES, BUT UTTLK PROGRESS IN THE STOUT 308
CHAPTER XXV.
IK WHICH HANNAH THURSTON MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 319
CHAPTER XXVI.
Is WHICH A WEDDING TAKES PLACE 333
CHAPTER XXVIL
DESCRIBING CERTAIN TROUBLES OP MR. WOODBURT 344
CHAPTER XXVIII.
EH WHICH HANNAH THURSTON ALSO HAS HER TROUBLES 356
CHAPTER XXIX.
IK WHICH A CRISIS APPROACHES 368
CHAPTER TTT
MB, WOODBURY'S CONFESSION 38
CHAPTER XXXI.
IN WHICH THE STRONG-MINDED WOMAN BECOMES WEAK 39 J
CHAPTER XXXII.
IK WHICH ALL RETREAT is CUT OFF 401
CHAPTER XXXTIL
OONCE2NING MARRIAGE, DEATH, GOSSIP, AND GOING HOME 41
CHAPTER XXXIV.
CONCERNING THE NEW HOUSEHOLD OF LAKESIDE 430
CHAPTER XXXV.
IK WHICH WE ATTEND ANOTHER MEETING IN FAVOR OF " WOMEN'8
RIGHTS'' 44 J
CHAPTER XXXVI.
fH WHICH THK M\N AND WOMAN COME TO A\ L*N!>ERST. XDl>'Q . ... 451
HANNAH THURSTOX
CHAPTER I.
IN WHICH WE ATTEND THE GREAT SEWING-UNION AT PTOLEMY
NEVER before had the little society of Ptolemy known so
animated a season. For an inland town, the place could not at
any time be called dull, and, indeed, impressed the stranger
with a character of exuberant life, on being compared with
other towns in the neighborhood. Mulligansville on the east,
Anacreon on the north, and Atauga City on the west, all fierce
rivals of nearly equal size, groaned over the ungodly cheerful-
ness of its population, and held up their hands whenever ita
name was mentioned. But, at the particular time whereof we
write November, 1852 the ordinarily mild flow of life ii.
Ptolemy was unusually quickened by the formation of the great
Sewing-Union. This was a new social phenomenon, which
many persons looked upon as a long stride in the direction of
the Millennium. If, however, you should desire an opposite
view, you have but to mention the subject to any Mulligan*
villain, any Anacreontic, or any Atauga citizen. The simple
fact is, that the various sewing-circles of Ptolemy three in
number, and working for very different ends had agreed to
hold their meetings at the same time and place, and labor in
company. It was a social arrangement which substituted on
10 HANNAH THTJBSTON:
large gathering, all the more lively and interesting from iti
mixed constitution, in place of three small and somewhat
monotonous circles. The plan was a very sensible one, and it
must be said, to the credit of Ptolemy, that there are very few
communities of equal size in the country where it could have
leen carried into effect.
First, the number of members being taken as the test of rela-
tive importance, there was the Ladies' Sewing-Circle, for raising
a fund to assist in supporting a Mission at Jutnapore. It was
drawn mainly from the congregation of the Rev. Lemuel Styles.
Four spinsters connected with this circle had a direct interest
in four children of the converted Telugu parents. There waa
a little brown Eliza Clancy, an Ann Parrott, and a Sophia
Stevenson, in that distant Indian sheepfold ; while the remain
ing spinster, Miss Ruhaney Goodwin, boasted of a (spiritual)
eon, to whom she had given the name of her deceased brother,
Elisha. These ladies were pleasantly occupied in making
three mousseline-de-laine frocks, an embroidered jacket, and
four half-dozens of pocket handkerchiefs for their little Telugu
children, and their withered bosoms were penetrated with a
secret thrill of the lost maternal instinct, which they only
dared to indulge in connection with such pious and charitable
labors.
The second Circle was composed of ladies belonging to the
Cimmerian church, who proposed getting up a village fair,
the profits of which should go towards the repair of the Par-
sonage, now sadly dilapidated. Mrs. Waldo, the clergyman's
wife, was at the head of this enterprise. Her ambition waa
limited to a new roof and some repairs in the plastering, and
there was a good prospect that the Circle would succeed in
raising the necessary sum. This, however, was chiefly owing
to Mrs. Waldo's personal popularity. Ptolemy was too small
a place, and the Cimmerians too insignificant a sect, for the
Church, out of its own resources, to accomplish much for its
shepherd.
Lastly, there was the Sewing-Circle for the Anti-S'avery
A. STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 11
Fair, winch was limited to five or six families. For the pre-
vious ten years, this little community, strong in the faith, had
prepared and forwarded their annual contribution, not dis-
6ouraged by the fact that the circulation of their beloved
special organ did not increase at the Ptolemy Post-Office, nor
that their petitions to Congress were always referred, an<]
never acted upon. They had outlived the early persecution, and
could no longer consider themselves martyrs. The epithets
"Infidel!" "Fanatic!" and "Amalgamationist!" had been hurled
at them until their enemies had ceased, out of sheer weariness,
and they were a little surprised at finding that their impor-
tance diminished in proportion as their neighbors became
tolerant. The most earnest and enthusiastic of the little band
were Gulielma Thurston, a Quaker widow, and her daughter
Hannah ; Mrs. Merryfield, the wife of a neighboring farmer,
and Seth Wattles, a tailor in the village. Notwithstanding
the smallness of this circle, its members, with one exception,
were bright, clear-minded, cheerful women, and as the suspi-
cions of their infidelity had gradually been allayed (mainly by
their aptness in Biblical quotation), no serious objection was
made to their admittance into the Union.
The proposition to unite the Circles came originally, we
believe, from Mrs. Waldo, whose sectarian bias always gave
way before the social instincts of her nature. The difficulty
of carrying it into execution was much lessened by the fact
that all the families were already acquainted, and that, fortu-
nately, there was no important enmity existing between any
two of them. Besides, there is a natural instinct in women
tfhich leads them to sew in flocks and enliven their labor by
u he discussion of patterns, stuffs, and prices. The Union, witt
from twenty-five to forty members in attendance, was found
to be greatly more animated and attractive than either of the
Circles, separately, had been. Whether more work was
accomplished, is a doubtful question ; but, if not, it made
little difference in the end. The naked Telugus would not
suffer from a scantier supply of clothing ; the Cimmerians
12 HANNAH THURSTON.
would charge outrageous prices for useless articles, in anx
case : nor would The Slavery Annihilator perish for want of
support, if fewer pen-wipers, and book-marks, inscribed witl
appropriate texts, came from Ptolemy.
The Sewing-Union was therefore pronounced a great socia!
success, and found especial favor in the eyes of the gentlemen,
who were allowed to attend " after tea," with the understand-
ing that they would contribute something to either of the.
three groups, according to their inclinations. Mrs. Waldo, by
general acquiescence, exercised a matronly supervision over
the company, putting down any rising controversy with a
gentle pat of her full, soft hand, and preventing, with cheerful
tyranny, the continual tendency of the gentlemen to interrupt
the work of the unmarried ladies. She was the oleaginous
solvent, in which the hard yelk of the Mission Fund, the vine-
gar of the Cimmerians, and the mustard of the Abolitionists
lost their repellant qualities and blended into a smooth social
compound. She had a very sweet, mellow, rounded voice,
and a laugh as comforting to hear as the crackling of a wood-
fire on the open hearth. Her greatest charm, however, was
her complete unconsciousness of her true value. The people
of Ptolemy, equally unconscious of this subduing and harmo-
nizing quality which she possessed, and seeing their lionesses
and lambs sewing peaceably together, congiatulated them-
selves on their own millennial promise. Of course everybody
was satisfied even the clergymen in Mulligansville and
Anacreon, who attacked the Union from their pulpits, secretly
thankful for such a near example of falling from the stifi,
narrow, and carefully- enclosed ways of grace.
It was the third meeting of the Union, and nearly all the
u embers were present. Their session was held at the house
of Mr. Hamilton Bue, Agent of the " Saratoga Mutual" for
the town of Ptolemy, and one of the Directors of the Bank at
Tiberius, the county-seat. Mrs. Hamilton Bue was interested
in the contribution for the mission at Jutnapoi-e, and the Rev
Lemuel Styles, pastor of the principal church in the village
A STORY OF AMERICAN UFB. II
had been specially invited to come " before tea,'' for the pur
pose of asking a blessing on the bountiful table of the hostess,
The parlor, large as it was (for Ptolemy), had been somewhat
overcrowded during the afternoon ; therefore, anticipating a
large arrival of gentlemen in the evening, Mrs. Bue had the
tables transferred from the sitting-room to the kitchen, locked
the hall door, and thus produced a suite of three apartments,
counting the hall itself as one. The guests were admitted at
the side-entrance, commonly used by the family. Two or
three additional lamps had been borrowed, and the general
aspect of things was so bright and cheerful that Mr. Styles
whispered to Mrs. Hamilton Bue : " Really, I am afraid this
looks a little like levity."
" But it's trying to the eyes to sew with a dim light," said
she ; " and we want to do a good deal for The Fund this even-
ing."
" Ah ! that, indeed !" he ejaculated, smiling blandly as he
contemplated Miss Eliza Clancy and Miss Ann Parrott, who
were comparing the dresses for their little brown name-
sakes.
" I think it looks better to be gored," said the former.
" Well I don't know but what it does, with that figure,' 5
remarked Miss Parrott, " but my Ann's a slim, growing girl,
and when you've tucks and I'm making two of 'em it
seems better to pleat"
" How will this do, Miss Eliza ?" asked Mrs. "Waldo, coming
up at the moment with a heavy knitted snood of crimson
wool, which she carefully adjusted over her own abundant
black hair. The effect was good, it cannot be denied. The
contrast of colors was so pleasing that the pattern of the
mood became quite a subordinate affair.
" Upon my word, very pretty !" said the lady appealed to.
" Pity you haven't knit it for yourself, it suits you so well,"
Miss Parrott observed.
" I'd rather take it to stop the leak in my best bed-room,* 1
Mrs. Waldo gayly rejoined, stealing a furtive glance at her
14 HANNAH THUKSTON t
head in the mirror over the mantel-piece. " Oh, Miss Thurt
ton, will you let us see your album-cover ?"
Hannah Thurston had caught sight of a quiet nook in tht
ball, behind the staircase, and was on her way to secure pos-
session of it. She had found the warmth of the sitting-room
intolerable, and the noise of many tongues began to be dis-
tracting to her sensitive Quaker ear. She paused at once, and
in answer to Mrs. Waldo's request unfolded an oblong piece
of warm brown cloth, upon which a group of fern-leaves,
embroi lered with green silk, was growing into shape. The
thready stems and frail, diminishing fronds were worked
with an exquisite truth to nature.
" It is not much more than the outline, as yet," she re-
marked, as she displayed the embroidery before the eager
eyes of Mrs. Waldo and the two spinsters.
The former, who possessed a natural though uncultivated
sense of beauty, was greatly delighted. " Why it's perfectly
lovely !" she exclaimed : " if I was younger, I'd get you to
teach me how you do it. You must be sure and let me see
the book when it's finished."
" I don't see why my Eliza couldn't make me one of the
flowers around Jutnapore," said Miss Clancy. " I'll mention
it in my next letter to Mrs Bocrum the missionary's wife,
you know. It would be such a nice thing for me to remem-
ber her by."
Meanwhile the gentlemen began to drop in. Mr. Merryfield
arrived, in company with the Hon. Zeno Harder, member of
the Legislature for Atauga county. Then followed the Rev.
Mr. Waldo, a small, brisk man, with gray eyes, a short nose,
et ont from his face at a sharper angle than is usual with
noses and a mouth in which the Lord had placed a set of
teeth oelonging to a man of twice his size for which reason hie
lips could not entirely close ovei them. His face thus received
an expiession of perpetual hunger. The air of isolation, com-
mon to clergymen of those small and insignificant sects which
seem to exist by sheer force of obstinacy, was not very per-
II
ceptible ir him. It had been neutralized, if not suppressed,
by the force of a strong animal temperament. On that side
of his nature, there was no isolation.
A number of young fellows bashful hobbledehoys, or
over-assured men of two or three and twenty, with rigorouslj
fashionable shirt-collars now made their appearance and
distributed themselves through Mrs. Hamilton Bue's rooms.
In the rising noise of conversation the more timid ventured to
use their tongues, and the company soon became so animated
that all of Mrs. Waldo's authority was necessary, to prevent
the younger ladies from neglecting their tasks. The Cimme-
rians, as a point of etiquette, were installed in the parlor,
which also accommodated a number of the workers for the
Mission Fund, the remainder being gathered in the sitting-
room, where Mr. Styles and Mr. Waldo carried on an ex-
ceedingly guarded and decorous conversation. Hannah Thurs-
ton had secured her coveted nook behind the staircase in the
hall, where she was joined by Mrs. Merryfield and Miss Sophia
Stevenson. Mrs. Waldo, also, kept a chair at the same table,
for the purpose of watching the expanding fern-leaves in the
intervals of her commandership. Seth Wattles tilted his chair
in a corner, eager for an opportunity to usurp the conver-
sation.
Seth was an awkward, ungainly person, whose clothes were
a continual satire on his professional skill. The first impres
sion which the man made, was the want of compact form.
His clay seemed to have been modelled by a bungling ap-
prentice, and imperfectly baked afterwards. The face was
long and lumpy in outline, without a proper coherence be-
tween the Matures the forehead being sloping and contracted
at the temples, the skull running backwards in a high, narrow
ridge. Thick hair, of a faded brown color, parted a little on
one side, was brushed behind his ears, where it hung in stiff
half-curls upon a broad, foiling shirt-collar, which revealed his
neck down to the crest of the breast-bone. His eyes were
opaque gray, prominent, and devoid of expression. His nose
16 HANNAH THUKSTON :
was long and coarsely constructed, with blunt end and thicL
nostrils, and his lips, though short, of that peculiar, shapeless for-
mation, which prevents a clear line of division between them.
Heavy, and of a pale purplish-red color, they seemed to run
together at the inner edges. His hands were large and hang-
ing, and all his joints apparently knobby and loose. His skin
aad that appearance of oily clamminess which belongs to such
an organization. Men of this character seem to be made of
sticks and putty. There is no nerve, no elasticity, no keenj
alert, impressible life in any part of their bodies.
Leaving the ladies of the Fund to hear Mrs. Boerum's last
letter describing the condition of her school at Jutnapore, and
the Cimmerians to consult about the arrangements for their
E]air, we will join this group in the hall. Mrs. Waldo had
just taken her seat for the seventh time, saying: "Well, I
never shall get any thing done, at this rate !" when her atten-
tion was arrested by hearing Hannah Thurston say, in answer
to some remark of Mrs. Merryfield :
" It is too cheerful a place, not to be the home of cheer-
ful and agreeable people."
" Oh, you are speaking of Lakeside, are you not ?" she
asked.
" Yes, they say it's sold," said Mrs. Merryfield ; " have you
heard of it?"
" I believe Mr. Waldo mentioned it at dinner. It's a Mr.
Woodbury, or some such name. And rich. He was related,
in some way, to the Dennisons. He's expected immediately,
I'm glad of it, for I want to put him under contribution. Oh,
how beautiful! Did you first copy the pattern from the
leaves, Hannah, or do you keep it in your head ?"
" Woodbury ? Related to the Dennisons ?" mused Mrs.
Merryfield. "Bless me! It can't be little Maxwell Max.
we always called him, that used to be there summers well,
nigh twenty years ago, at least. But you were not here
then, Mrs. Waldo nor you, neither, Hannah. I heard after-
wards that he went to Calcutty I remember him very
A STORY OP AMERICAN LIFE. H
well a smart, curly-headed youngster, but knowed nothing
about farming. Him and my poor Absalom" here she
r-mothered a rising sigh "used to be a good deal with
other."
An unusual stir in the sitting-room interrupted the con
versation.
There were exclamations noises of moving chairs iudis
Linct phrases and presently the strong voice of the Hon.
Zeno Harder was heard : " Very happy to make your ao-
qaaintance, Sir very happy!" Mrs. Waldo slipped to the
door and peeped in, telegraphing her observations in whis-
pers to the little party behind the stairs. "There's Mr.
Hammond the lawyer, you know, from Tiberius, and another
gentleman a stranger. Tall and sunburnt, with a moustache
but I like his looks. Ah !" Here she darted back to hei
seat. " Would you believe it ? the very man we were talk-
ing about Mr. Woodbury !"
In accordance with the usages of Ptolemy society, the new-
comers were taken in charge by the host, and formally intro-
duced to every person present. In a few minutes the round
of the sitting-room was completed and the party entered the
hall. Miss Thurston, looking up with a natural curiosity, en-
countered a pair of earnest brown eyes, which happened, at
the moment, to rest mechanically upon her. Mr. Hamilton
Bue advanced and performed his office. The stranger bowed
w ith easy self-possession and a genial air, which asserted his
determination to enjoy the society. Mrs. Waldo, who was no
respecter of persons in fact, she often declared that she
would not be afraid of Daniel Webster cordially gave him
).ier hand, exclaiming: " We were this minute talking of you,
Mr. Woodbury ! And I wished you were here, that I might
levy a contribution for our Sewing-Circle. But you're go-
ing to be a neighbor, and so I'll ask it in earnest, next
time."
" Why not now ?" said the gentleman, taking out hifl
purse. " First thoughts are often best, and you know tht
18 a ANN AH THUESTON:
proverb about short settlements. Pray accept this, as a tokea
that you do not consider me a stranger."
" Oh, thank you !" she cried, as she took the bank-note ;
" but" (hesitatingly) " is this a donation to our Society, or
must I divide it with the others ?" The peculiar tone in
which the question was put rendered but one answer possible^
No man could have uttered it with such artful emphasis.
The constitution of the Sewing-Union was explained, and
Mr. Woodbury purchased a universal popularity by equal
contributions to the three Circles. Had he been less impul-
siveless kindly inclined to create, at once, a warm atmos-
phere around his future home he would not have given so
much. The consequences of his generosity were not long in
exhibiting themselves. Two days afterwards, the Seventh-
Day Baptists, at Atauga City, waited on him for a subscrip-
tion towards the building of their new church ; and even the
ladies of Mulligansville so far conquered their antipathy to
the Ptolemy district, as to apply for aid to the Mission at
Pulo-Bizam, in the Ladrone Islands, which was a subject of
their especial care.
The introduction of a new element into a society so purely
local as that of Ptolemy, is generally felt as a constraint.
Where the stranger is a man of evident cultivation, whose su-
periority, in various respects, is instinctively felt, but would be
indignantly disclaimed if any one dared to assert it, there is,
especially, a covert fear of his judgment. His eye and ear are
supposed to be intensely alert and critical : conversation be-
comes subdued and formal at his approach : the romping youthi
and maidens subside into decorous and tedious common-places,
until the first chill of his presence is overcome. Mr. Wood-
bury had tact enough to perceive and dissipate this impression,
His habitual manners were slightly touched with reserve, but
no man could unbend more easily and gracefully. To the few
who remembered him as "Little Max." among them Mrs.
Merryfield he manifested the cordial warmth of an old
friend, and laughed with a delight which came from the
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 1*
heart, at their mention of certain boyish mishaps which mark
ed his summers at Lakeside. The laborers for the Mission
Fund were rejoiced to learn that, though he had never been at
Jutnapore, yet he had once seen Mr. JBoerum, on that gentle-
man's arrival at Calcutta. (" What a pity he did'nt go to
Jutnapore ! He might have told me about my Eliza," re-
marked Miss Clancy, aside.) In short, the ice between Mr.
Woodbury and the rest of the company was broken so quickly
what even the formation of the first thin crust was scarcely
perceived. His introduction to Ptolemy society was in the
social technology of Boston " a success."
Again the clacking of tongues rose high and shrill, lessen-
ing only for a few minutes after the distribution of wedges ol
molasses-cake, offered by Mrs. Hamilton Bue's black-mitted
hands. Mr. Hamilton Bue followed in her wake with a jing-
ling tray, covered with glasses of lemonade, which the ladies
sipped delicately. The four spinsters, observing that Mrs.
Lemuel Styles drank but the half of her glass, replaced theirs
also half-filled, though it went to their hearts to do so. The
needles now stood at ease, no longer marching, with even
stitch, over their parade-grounds of silk, or cotton, or mous-
seline-de-laine. One straggler after another fell out of the
ranks, until it was finally declared that " we have done enough
for this evening." Then came singing, commencing with
" From Greenland's Icy Mountains," in which half the com-
pany joined. Miss Sophia Stevenson, who had a good voice,
w ith it must be admitted an occasional tendency to sharps,
led the hymn; but the parts were unequally distributed,
which Mr. Woodbury perceiving, he struck in with a rich
baritone voice. This acquisition was immediately noticed,
End, at the conclusion of the hymn, Mrs. Waldo requested
that he would favor them with a solo.
" I prefer to listen," he answered. " I know none but the
old, old songs, which you all have heard. But you are wel-
come to one of them, if you will first let me hear something
newer and fresher.'' Unconsciously, he had hit the custom
20 HANNAH THUKSTON:
of Ptolemy, never to sing until somebody else has first sung,
to encouiage you. The difficulty is, to find the eucourager.
Mrs. Waldo seized upon Seth Wattles, who, nothing loth*
ooinmeticed in a gritty bass voice :
' ^Viiy-ee dooz the why-eet man follah mee pawth,
y ke the ha-ound on the ty-eeger's tra-hack ?
Dooz the flu-hush on my da-hark cheek waken his wrawth
Looz he co-hovet the bow a-hat mee ba-hack ?"
" Wbut in the world is the song about ?" whispered Mr,
Woodbu/y.
" It's -he Lament of the Indian Hunter," said Mrs. Waldo,
''he al\\ ys sings it. Now comes the chorus: it's queer:
listen !"
Thereupon, from the cavernous throat of the singer, issued
a series of howls in the minor key, something in this wise :
" VO-HO \o-ho! Yo-HO-O yo-no-ho-Ao-ho !"
" Aftei this," thought Woodbury, " they can bear to hear
an old so,g, though a thousand times repeated." And being
again presuvid, hu gave simply, without any attempt at brilliancy
of execution : " The Harp of Tara."
There was profound silence, as his voice, strung with true
masculine ftwre, rang through the rooms. Generally, the least
intellectual ^erpons sing with the truest and most touching ex-
pression, becnuse voice and intellect are rarely combined : but
Maxwell Woodbury's fine organ had not been given to him at
the expense of his brain. It was a lucky chance of nature. His
hearers did not really know how admirably he interpreted that
sigh of the Irish heart, but they were pleased, and not nig-
gardly in their expressions of delight.
More songs were called for, and refused. There was the
usual coaxing, and a shocking prevalence of hoarseness, com-
bined with sudden loss of memory. One young lady com-
menced with "Isle" (which she pronounced eye-heel) "of
Beauty," but broke down at the end of the first verse, and all
the cries of: "Do go on !" " It's so pretty !" could not encour
A STOBY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 21
age her to resume. Finally some one, spying Hannah TLurston,
who had folded up her embroidery and was sitting in a shaded
corner, cried out :
" Oh, Miss Thurston ! Give us that song you sang the last
time that one about the mountains, you know."
Mi&s Thurston started, as if aroused out of a profound
revery, while a flitting blush, delicate and transient as the
shadow of a rose tossed upon marble, visited her face. She
had felt and followed, word by word and tone by tone, the
glorious Irish lay. The tragic pathos of the concluding lines
" For freedom now so seldom wakes,
The only throb she gives
Is when some heart indignant breaks,
To show that still she lives I"
thrilled and shook her with its despairing solemnity. What
a depth of betrayed trust, of baffled aspiration, it revealed!
Some dormant sentiment in her own heart leapt up and an-
swered it, with that quick inner pang, which would be a cry
were it expressed in sound. Yet was the despair which the
melody suggested of a diviner texture than joy. It was that
sadness of the imaginative nature which is half triumph, be-
cause the same illumination which reveals the hopelessness of
its desires reveals also their beauty and their divinity.
The request addressed to her was a shock which recalled
her to herself. It was so warmly seconded that refusal would
have been ungracious, and a true social instinct told her that
her revery, though involuntary, was out of place. She prof-
ited by the little delay which ensued in order to secure silenc*
for in our country communities silence always precedes the
song to recover her full self-possession. There was no tre-
mor in her voice, which soared, with the words, into a still,
clear ether, in which the pictures of the song stood out
pure, distinct, and sublime. It was one of those lyrics of
Mrs. Hemans, which suggest the trumpet at woman's lips
horn of its rough battle-snarl, its fierce notes tenderly
22 HANNAH THUBSTON :
fled, but a trumpet still. She sang, with the bride of tht
Alpine hunter :
11 Thy heart is in the upper world,
And where the chamois bound;
Thy heart is where the mountain-fir
Shakes with the torrent's sound:
And where the snow-peaks gleam like stars
In the stillness of the air,
And where the lawine's voice is heard,
Hunter, thy heart is there I"
It was rather musical declamation, than singing. Her voice,
pure, sweet, and strong, distinctly indicated the melody, in-
stead of giving it positively, beyond the possibility of a mista-
ken semitone. It was a ringing chant of that " upper world"
of the glaciers, where every cry or call is followed by a musi-
cal echo, where every sound betrays the thin air and the
boundless space. Hannah Thurston sang it with a vision of
Alpine scenery in her brain. She saw, gleaming in the paler
sunshine, beneath the black-blue heaven, the sharp horns of
frosted silver, the hanging ledges of short summer grass, the
tumbled masses of gray rock, and the dust of snow from fall-
ing avalanches. Hence, he who had once seen these things in
their reality, saw them again while listening to her. She knew
not, however, her own dramatic power : it was enough that
she gave pleasure.
Maxwell Woodbury's eyes brightened, as the bleak and
lofty landscapes of the Bernese Oberland rose before him.
Over the dark fir-woods and the blue ice-caverns of the
Rosenlaui glacier, he saw the jagged pyramid of the Wetter-
horn, toppling in the morning sky; and involuntarily asked
himself what was the magic which had started that half-for-
go uteu picture from the chambers of his memory. How
snould this pale, quiet girl who, in a musical sense, was no
singer, and who had assuredly never seen the Alps, have
caught the voice which haunts their desolate glory? But
these were questions which came afterwards. The concluding
A 8TORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 23
rere, expressing only the patience and humility of lo^e in the
valley, blurred the sharp crystal of the first impression and
brought him back to the Sewing-Union without a rude shock
of transition. He cordially thanked the singer an act rather
unusual in Ptolemy at that tune, and hence a grateful surprise
to Hannah Thurston, to whom his words conveyed a more
earnest meaning than was demanded by mere formal cour-
tesy.
By this time the assembled company had become very
genial and anconstrained. The Rev. Lemuel Styles had entirely
forgotten the levity of Mrs. Bue's illumination, and even in-
dulged in good-humored badinage (of a perfectly mild and
proper character) with Mrs. Waldo. The others were gath-
ered into little groups, cheerfully chatting the young gentle-
men and ladies apart from the married people. Scandal was
sugar-coated, in order to hide its true character . love put on
a bitter and prickly outside, to avoid the observation of oth-
ers : all the innocent disguises of Society were in as full opera-
tion as in the ripened atmosphere of great cities.
The nearest approach to a discord was in a somewhat heated
discussion on the subject of Slavery, which grew up between
Seth Wattles and the Hon. Zeno Harder. The latter was
vehement in his denunciation of the Abolitionists, to which
the former replied by quoting the Declaration of Indepen-
dence. The two voices either of them alike unpleasant to a
sensitive ear finally became loud enough to attract the atten-
tion of Mrs. Waldo, who had a keen scent for opportunities
fcr the exercise of her authority.
"Come, come !" she cried, placing one hand on Seth's shoul-
l<?r, while she threatened the Honorable Zeno with the other
' this is forbidden ground. The Sewing-Union would m-vet
Hold together, if \ve allowed such things. Besides, what's the
ewe? You two would talk together all night, I'll warrant, and
be no nearer agreeing in the morning."
"No," cried Seth, "because your party politicians ignore
tbe questions of humanity !"
14 HANNAH THURSTOH:
"And youi fanatical abstractionists never look at any thing
in a practical way!" rejoined the Honorable Zeno.
"And both are deficient in a sense of propriety I shall
have to say, if you don't stop," was Mrs. Waldo's ready com-
ment.
This little episode had attracted a few spectators, whr
ivere so evidently on Mrs. Waldo's side, that " the Judge,'
as the Hon. Zeno was familiarly called, at once saw the politic
course, and rising magnificently, exclaimed: "Although we
don't advocate Women's Rights, we yield to woman's author-
ity." Then, bowing with corpulent condescension, he passed
away. Seth Wattles, having no longer an opponent, was con-
demned to silence.
In the mean time, it had been whispered among the company
that the next meeting of the Union would be held at the
Merryfield farm-house, a mile and a half from Ptolemy. This
had been arranged by the prominent ladies, after a good deal
of consultation. Mr. Merryfield still belonged to the congre-
gation of the Rev. Lemuel Styles, although not in very good
repute. His farm-house was large and spacious, and he was
an excellent " provider," especially for his guests. Moreover,
he was the only one of the small clan of Abolitionists, who
could conveniently entertain the Union, so that in him were
discharged all the social obligations which the remaining mem-
bers could fairly exact. The four spinsters, indeed, had ex
changed patient glances, as much as to say : " This is a cross
which we must needs bear." Mr. Merryfield, be it known,
had refused to contribute to Foreign Missions, on the ground
that we had already too many black heathen at home. The
younger persons, nevertheless, were very well satisfied, and
thus the millennial advance of Ptolemy was not interrupted.
The more staid guests had now taken leave, and there was
presently a general movement of departure. The ladies put
on their bonnets and shawls in the best bedroom up-stairs, and
the gentlemen picked out their respective hats and coats from
the miscellaneous heao on the kitchen settee. The hall-dooi
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFK. t6
was unlocked to facilitate egress, and lively groups lingered
on the stairs, in the doorway, and on the piazza. The gen-
tlemen dodged about to secure their coveted privilege ol
escort : now and then a happy young pair slipped away in tho
belief that they were unnoticed: there were calls of "Do
come and see us, now!" last eager whispers of gossip, a great
deal of superfluous female kissing, and the final remarks to
Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton Bue : " Good-bye ! we've had a nice
time !" as the company filtered away.
When the last guest had disappeared, Mr. Hamilton Bue
carefully closed and locked the doors, and then remarked to
his wife, who was engaged in putting out the extra lamps :
" Well, Martha, I think we've done very well, though I say it
that shouldn't. Mr. Styles liked your tea, and the cake must
have been pretty good, judging from the way they stowed it
out of sight."
"Yes," said Mrs. Bue; "I was afraid at one time, there
wouldn't be enough to go .round. It's well I made up my
mind, at the last minute, to bake five instead of four. Mo-
lasses is so high."
" Oh, what's the odds of two shillings more or less," her
husband consolingly remarked, " when you've got to make a
regular spread ? Besides, I guess I'll clear expensed, by per-
suading Woodbury to insure his house in our concern. Dei
oisons always took the Etna."
2
94 HANNAH THUKSTOH !
CHAPTER IL
MB. WOODBURY'S INTRODUCTION TO LAKESIDE.
On the very day when the Sewing-Union met in Ptolemy
there was an unusual commotion at Lakeside. Only four or
tive days had elapsed since the secluded little household had
been startled by the news that the old place was finally sold,
and now a short note had arrived from Mr. Hammond, of Ti-
berius, who was the agent for the estate, stating that the new
owner would probably make his appearance in the course of
the day.
The first thing that suggested itself to the distracted mind
of Mrs. Fortitude Babb, the housekeeper, was immediately to
summon old Melinda, a negro woman, whose specialty was
house-cleaning. Had there been sufficient time, Mrs. Babb
would have scoured the entire dwelling, from garret to cellar.
A stranger, indeed, would have remarked no appearance of
disorder, or want of proper cleanliness, anywhere : but the
tall housekeeper, propping her hands upon her hips, exclaimed,
in despair : " Whatever snail I do ? There 's hardly time to
have the rooms swep', let alone washin' the wood-work.
Then, ag'in, I dunno which o' the two bed-rooms he'd like
best. Why couldn't Mr. Hammond hold him back, till things
was decent ? And the libery 's been shet up, this ever so
long ; and there's bakin' to do squinch tarts, and sich likes
and you must kill two chickens, Arbutus, right away !"
" Don't 1)6 worried, Mother Forty," replied Arbutus Wil-
son, the stout young man whom Mrs. Babb addressed, " tilings
a 'n't lookiii' so bad, after all. Max. well, Mr. Woodbury, I
must say now, though it'll go rather queer, at first was al-
ways easy satisfied, when he was here afore."
A STORY OF AMEEICAN LIFE. 27
, " I reckon you think people doesn't change in twenty year.
There's no tellin' what sort of a man he's got to be. But
here comes Melindy. I guess I'll open the libery and let it
air, while she fixes the bedrooms."
Mrs Babb's nervousness had a deeper cause than the con-
dition of the Lakeside mansion. So many years had elapsed
since she first came to the place as housekeeper, that it seemed
to have become her own property as surely as that of the
Deunison family. The death of Mrs. Dennison, eight months
before, recalled her to the consciousness of her uncertain ten
ure. Now, since the estate was finally sold and the new
owner about to arrive, a few days, in all probability, would
determine whether her right was to be confirmed or herself
turned adrift upon the world. Although her recollections of
Maxwell Woodbury, whose last visit to Lakeside occurred
during the first year of her reign, were as kindly as was con-
sistent with her rigid nature, she awaited his arrival with a
mixture of jealousy and dread. True, he was somewhat
nearer to her than those relatives of Mrs. Dennison who had
inherited the property at her death, for the latter Mrs. Babb
had never seen, while him she had both gently scolded and
severely petted : but she felt that the removal of Arbutus
Wilson and herself from the place would be a shameful piece
of injustice, and the fact that such removal was possible indi-
cated something wrong in the world.
Arbutus, who was a hardy, healthy, strapping fellow,- of
eight-and-twenty, was her step-step-son, if there can be such a
relation. His father, who died shortly after his birth, was one
of those uneducated, ignorant men, whose ears are yet quick to
catch and retain any word of grandiloquent sound. Nothing
delighted him so much as to hear the Biblical genealogies
read, He had somewhere picked up the word arbutus, the
Bound of which so pleased him that he at once conferred it
upon his baby, utterly unconscious of its meaning. A year or
two after his death, the widow Wilson married Jason Babb,
an honest, meek-natured carpenter, who proved a good father
28 HANNAH THUBSTON :
to the little Arbutus. She, however, was carried away by
malignant fever, in the first year of her second marriage. The
widower, who both mourned and missed her, cherished her
ehild with a conscientious fidelity, and it was quite as much
from a sense of duty towards the boy, as from an inclination
of the heart, that he married Miss Fortitude Winterbottom, a
Lit], staid, self-reliant creature, verging on spinsterhood.
The Fates, however, seemed determined to interfere with
J ason B.ibb's connubial plans ; but the next time it was upon
himself, and not upon his wife, that the lot fell. Having no
children of his own, by either wife, he besought Fortitude,
with his latest breath, to be both father and mother to the
doubly-orphaned little Bute Wilson. It must be admitted
that Mrs. Babb faithfully performed her promise. The true
feeling of parental tenderness had never been granted to her,
and the sense of responsibility of ownership which came in
its stead was a very mild substitute ; but it impressed the
boy, at least, with a consciousness of care and protection,
which satisfied his simple nature. Mrs. Dennison, with her
kind voice, and gentle, resigned old face, seemed much more
the mother, while Mrs. Babb, with her peremptory ways and
strict idea of discipline, unconsciously assumed for him the
attitude of a father. The latter had come to Lakeside at a
time when Mr. Dennison's confirmed feebleness required his
wife to devote herself wholly to his care. Mrs. Babb, there
fore, took charge of the house, and Arbutus, at first a younger
companion of Henry Dennison, afterwards an active farm-boy,
finally developed into an excellent farmer, and had almost the
exclusive management of the estate for some years before Mra,
Dermison's death.
Thus these two persons, with an Irish field-hand, had been
tLi 1 only occupants of Lakeside, during the summer and au-
tumn. Arbutus, or Bute, as he was universally called in the
neighborhood, was well-pleased with the news of Mr. "W Dod-
bury's purchase. He remembered him, indistinctly, as the
44 town-boy" who gave him his first top and taught him how
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 2f
to spin it, though the big fellow couldn't tell a thrush's egg
from a robin's, and always said " tortoise" instead of " tortle."
Bute thought they'd get along together somehow or, if they
didn't, he could do as well somewheres else, he reckoned,
Nevertheless, he felt anxious that the owner should receive a
satisfactory impression on his arrival, and busied himself, with
Patrick's assistance, in " setting every thing to rights" about
Jie barn and out-houses.
After all, there was scarcely need of such hurried prepa-
ration. Mr. Hammond and Woodbury, detained by some
necessary formalities of the law, did not leave Tiberius until
the afternoon of that day. The town being situated at the
outlet of Atauga Lake, they took the little steamer to Atauga
City, near its head, in preference to the long road over the
bills. The boat, with a heavy load of freight, made slow pro-
gress, and it was dusk before they passed the point on the
eastern shore, beyond which Lakeside is visible from the
water. On reaching Ptolemy by the evening stage from
Atauga City, Maxwell Woodbury found the new " Ptolemy
House" so bright and cheerful, that he immediately proposed
their remaining for the night, although within four miles of
their destination.
" I have a fancy for approaching the old place by daylight,"
said he to his companion. " Here begins my familiar ground,
and I should be sorry to lose the smallest test of memory.
Besides, I am not sure what kind of quarters I should be able
to offer you, on such short notice."
" Let us stay, then, by all means," said the lawyer. " I can
'ippreciate feelings, although I am occupied entirely with
deeds." Here he quietly chuckled, and was answered by a
roar from the landlord, who came up in time to hear the
remark.
"Ha! ha! Good, Mr. Hammond!" exclaimed the latter.
"Very happy to entertain you, gentlemen. Mr. Woodbury
can ha^e the Bridal Chamber, if he likes. But you should go
to the Great Sewing-Union, gentlemen. You will find aU
80 HANNAH THUESTON:
Ptolemy there to-night. It's at Hamilton Bue's: you
him, Mr. Hammond Director of the Bank."
The results of this advice have already been described,
After breakfast, on the following morning, the two gentlemep
set out for Lakeside in a light open carriage. It was one of
the last days of tht Indian summer, soft and hazy, with a fore-
boding of winter in the air. The hills, enclosing the head of
tlit- lake, and stretching away southwards, on opposite sides
of the two valleys, which unite just behind Ptolemy, loomed
through their blue veil with almost the majesty of mountain
ranges. The greeu of the pine-forests on their crests, and of
those ragged lines of the original woods which marked the
courses of the descending ravines, was dimmed and robbed of its
gloom. The meadows extending towards the lake were still
fresh, and the great elms by the creek-side had not yet shed
all of their tawny leaves. A moist, fragrant odor of decay per-
vaded the atmosphere, and the soft south western wind, occasion-
ally stealing down the further valley, seemed to blow the som-
bre colors of the landscape into dying flickers of brightness.
As they crossed the stream to the eastward of the village,
and drove along the base of the hills beyond, Woodbury ex-
claimed :
" You cannot possibly understand, Mr. Hammond, how
refreshing to me are these signs of the coming winter, after
nearly fifteen years of unbroken summer. I shall enjoy the
change doubly here, among the scenes of the only country-life
which I ever knew in America, where I was really happiest,
as a boy. I suppose," he added, laughing, "now that the
business is over, I may confess to you how much I congratu-
late myself on having made the purchase."
"As if I did not notice how anxious you were to buy!" re-
joined the lawyer. " You must be strongly attached to th
old place, to take it on the strength of former associations. I
wish it were nearer Tiberius, that we might have more of your
society. Did you pass much of your youth here?"
" Only my summers, from the age of twelve to fifteen. My
A STOBY OP AMERICAN LIFE. 81
Constitution was rather delicate when I was young, and Mrs,
Dennisoii, who was a distant relative of my father, and some-
times visited us in New York, persuaded him to let me try
the air of Lakeside. Henry was about my own age, and we
eoon became great friends. The place was a second homo to
mo, thenceforth, until my father's death. Even after I went
to Calcutta, I continued to correspond with Henry, but my
last letter from Lakeside was written by his mother, after his
body was brought home from Mexico."
"Yes," said Mr. Hammond, "the old lady fairly broke
down after that. Henry was a fine fellow and a promising
officer, and I believe she would have borne his loss better, had
he fallen in battle. But he lingered a long time in the hospi-
tal, and she was just beginning to hope for his recovery, when
the news of his death came instead. But see ! there is Roar-
ing Brook. Do you hear the noise of the fall ? How loud it
is this morning !"
The hill, curving rapidly to the eastward, rose abruptly from
the meadows in a succession of shelving terraces, the lowest of
which was faced with a wall of dark rock, in horizontal strata,
but almost concealed from view by the tall forest trees which
grew at its base. The stream, issuing from a glen which de-
scended from the lofty upland region to the eastward of the
lake, poured itself headlong from the brink of the rocky steep,
a glittering silver thread in summer, a tawny banner of
angry sound in the autumn rains. Seen through the hazy air,
its narrow white column seemed to stand motionless between
the pines, and its mellowed thunder to roll from some region
beyond the hills.
Woodbury, who had been looking steadily across the mead-
ows to the north, cried out : " It is the same it has not yet
run itself dry ! Now we shall see Lakeside ; but no yet I
certainly used to see the house from this point. Ah ! twenty
years! I had forgotten that trees cannot stand still; that
ash, or whatever it is, has quite filled up the gap. I am afraid
I shall find greater changes than this."
His eyes mechanically fell, as the wheels rumbled suddenly
on the plank bridge over Roaring Brook. Mr. Hammond looked
up, gave the horse a skilful dash of the whip and shot past
the trees which lined the stream. " Look and see !" he pres-
ently said.
The old place, so familiar to Woodbury, and now his own
property, lay before him. There was the heavy white house,
with its broad verandah, looking southward from the last low
shelf of the hills, which rose behind it on their westward
sweep back to the lake. The high-road to Anacreon and
thence to Tiberius, up the eastern shore, turned to the right
and ascended to the upland, through a long winding glen.
A small grove of evergreens still further protected the house
on its northwestern side, so that its position was unusually
sunny and sheltered. The head of the lake, the meadows
around Ptolemy and the branching valleys beyond, were all
visible from the southern windows; and though the hills to
the east somewhat obscured the sunrise, the evenings wore a
double splendor in the lake and in the sky.
"Poor Henry!" whispered Woodbury to himself, as Mr.
Hammond alighted to open the gate into the private lane.
The house had again disappeared from view, behind the rise
of the broad knoll upon which it stood, and their approach
was not visible until they had reached the upper level, with
its stately avenue of sugar-maples, extending to the garden
wall.
The place was really unchanged, to all appearance. Per-
haps the clumps of lilac and snowball, along the northern
wall were somewhat higher, and the apple-trees in the orchard
behind the house more gnarled and mossy ; but the house it-
self, the turfed space before it, the flagged walk leading to the
door, the pyramids of yew and juniper, were the same as
ever, and the old oaks at each corner seemed, twig for twig,
to have stood still for twenty years. A few bunches of chrys
anthemum, somewhat nipped by the frost, gave their sober
autumnal coloring and wholesome bitter-sweet odor to the
A STOKY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 88
garden-alleys. The late purple asters were shrivelled and
drooping, and the hollyhocks stood like desolate floral towers,
tottering over the summer's ruin.
For the first time in twenty years, Woodbury felt the al
most forgotten sensation of home steal through his heart.
Quickly and silently he recognized each familiar object, and
the far-off days of the past swept into the nearness of yester
day. His ear took no note of Mr. Hammond's rattling re-
marks: the latter was not preciselv the man whose atmosphere
lures forth the hidden fragrance of one's nature.
As they drove along the garden-wall, a strong figure ap-
peared, approaching with eager strides. He glanced first at
the horse and carriage. " Fairlamb's livery the bay," was
his mental remark. The next moment he stood at the gate,
waiting for them to alight.
"How do you do, Mr. Hammond?" he cried. "You're
late a-comin' : we expected ye las' night. And is this really
Mr. Maxwell, I mean Mr. Woodbury well, I'd never ha
knowed him. I s'pose you don't know me, nuther, Mr
Max.?"
" God bless me ! it must be little Bute !" exclaimed Wood-
bury, taking the honest fellow's hand. " Yes, I see it now
man instead of boy, but the same fellow still."
"Yes, indeed, that I be!" asserted the delighted Arbu
tus. He meant much more than the words indicated.
Fully expressed, his thoughts would have run something in
this wise: "I guess we can git on together, as well as
when we was boys. If you ha'n't changed, I ha'n't. I'll
do my dooty towards ye, and you won't be disapp'inted ir
me."
In the mean time, Mrs. Fortitude Babb had made her ap
pearance, clad in the black bombazine which she had pur-
chased for Jason's funeral, and was waiting, tall and rigid, but
with considerable internal " flusteration " (as she would have
expressed it), ou the verandah. One mental eye was directed
towards the new owner, and the other to the fowls in the
34 HANNAH THUBSTON.
kitchen, which she had cut up the evening before, for a ftio
assee> and which were thus rendered unfit for roasting. " Why,
he's a perfick stranger !" " If there's only time to make a pie
of 'em 1" were the two thoughts which crossed each other in
her brain.
" Mrs. Babb ! there's no mistaking who you arel" exclaimed
Woodbury, as he hastened with outstretched hand up th
flagged walk.
The old housekeeper gave him her long, bony hand in
return, and made an attempt at a courtesy, a thing which
she had not done for so long that one of her knee-joints
cracked with the effort. " Welcome, Sir !" said she, with be-
coming gravity. Woodbury thought she did not recognize
him.
" Why, don't you remember Max. ?" he asked.
" Tes, I recollex you as you was. And now I some to
look, your eyes is jist the same. Dear, dear!" and in spite
of herself two large tears slowly took their way down her
lank cheeks. " If Miss Dennison and Henry could be here !"
Then she wiped her eyes with her hand, rather than spoil the
corner of her black silk apron. Stiffening her features the
next moment, she turned away, exclaiming in a voice un-
necessarily sharp: "Arbutus, why don't you put away the
horse ?"
The gentlemen entered the house. The hall-door had evi-
dently not been recently used, for the lock grated with a
sound of rust. The sitting-room on the left and the library
beyond, were full of hazy sunshine and cheerful with the
crackling of fires on the open hearth. Dust was nowhere to
be seen, but the chairs stood as fixedly in their formal places as
if screwed to the floor, and the old books seemed to be glued
together in regular piles. None of the slight tokens of habit-
ual occupation caught the eye no pleasant irregularity of do-
mestic life, a newspaper tossed here, a glove there, a chair
placed obliquely to a favorite window, or a work-stand oi
foot-stool drawn from its place. Mrs. Babb, it is true, with I
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 81
desperate attempt at ornament, had gathered the most pre-
sentable of the chrysanthemums, with some sprigs of arbor-
vitse, and stuck them into an old glass flower-jar. Their
oungent odor helped to conceal the faint musty smell which
till lingered in the unused rooms.
"I think we will sit here, Mrs. Babb," said Woodbury,
leading the way into the library. " It was always my favorite
room," he added, turning to the lawyer, " and it has the finest
view o^ the lake."
" I'm afeard that's all you'll have," the housekeeper grimly
remarked. "Things is terrible upside-down: you come so
onexpected. An empty house makes more bother than a full
one. But you're here now, an' you'll have to take it sich as
't is."
Therewith she retired to the kitchen, where Bute soon
joined her.
"Well, Mother Forty," he asked, "how do you like his
looks? He's no more changed than I am, only on th' out-
side. I don't s'pose he knows more than ever about farmin',
but he's only got to let me alone and things '11 go right."
"Looks is nothin'," the housekeeper answered. "Hand-
some is that handsome does, I say. Don't whistle till you're
out o' the woods, Bute. Not but what I'd ruther have him
here than some o' them people down to Po'keepsy, that never
took no notice o' her while she lived."
"There's no mistake, then, about his havin' bought the
farm?"
" I guess not, but I'll soon see."
She presently appeared in the library, with a pitcher of
cider and two glasses on a tray, and a plate of her best "jum-
bles." " There's a few bottles o' Madary in the cellar," she
said ; " but you know I can't take nothin' without your leave,
Mr. Hammo'ud leastways, onless it's all fixed."
Woodbury, however, quietly answered: "Thank you, we
will leave the wine until dinner. You can give us a meal, 1
presume, Mrs. Babb?"
86 HANNAH THTJKSTON.
" J T wo'nt be what I'd like. I'd reckoned on a supper las'
night, instid of a dinner to-day. Expect it ? U be pretty much
pot-luck. However, I'll do what I can."
Mrs. Babb then returned to the kitchen, satisfied, at least,
that Mr. Maxwell Woodbury was now really the mast ex of
Lakeside
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE.
CHAPTER m.
AW EVENING OP GOSSIP, IN WHICH WE LEABN SOMETHING
ABOUT THE PEBSONS ALEEADY MENTIONED.
AFTEE a long absence in India, Woodbury had come home
to find all his former associations broken, even the familiar
landmarks of his boyish life destroyed. His only near relative
was an older sister, married some years before his departure,
and now a stately matron, who was just beginning to enjoy a
new importance in society from the beauty of her daughters.
There was a small corner in her heart, it is true, for the exiled
brother. The floor was swept, there; the room aired, and
sufficient fire kept burning on the hearth, to take off the chill :
but it was the chamber of an occasional guest rather than of
an habitual inmate. She was glad to see him back again, es-
pecially as his manners were thoroughly refined and his wealth
was supposed to be large (indeed, common report greatly
magnified it) : she would have lamented his death, and have
worn becoming mourning for him would even have per-
suaded her husband to assist him, had he returned penni-
less. In short, Woodbury could not complain of his recep-
tion, and the absence of a more intimate relation of a sweet,
sympathetic bond, springing from kinship of heart as well as
of blood, was all the more lightly felt because such bond had
never previously existed.
In the dreams of home which haunted him in lonely hours,
on the banks of the Hoogly or the breezy heights of Darjeel
ing, Lakeside always first arose, and repeated itself most fre-
quently and distinctly. " Aunt Dennison," as he was ac cus-
tomed to call her, took the place, in his affectionate memor"
88 HANNAH THTJRSTOH;
of the lost mother whose features he could trace but dimly,
far back in the faint consciousness of childhood. There
seemed to be no other spot in the world to which he had a
natural right to return. The friends whom he had left, in
New York, as a youug man of twenty-one, had become rest-
less, impetuous men of business, from whose natures every
element of calm had been shaken, while he had slowly an3
comfortably matured his manhood in the immemorial repose
of Asia. The atmosphere of the city at first excited, then
wearied him. The wish to visit Lakeside was increasing in
his mind, when he was one day startled by seeing the prop-
erty advertised for sale, and instantly determined to become
the purchaser. A correspondence with Mr. Hammond en-
sued, and, as there was another competitor in the field, Wood-
bury 's anxiety to secure the old place led him to close the
negotiations before he had found tune to see it again. Now,
however, he had made arrangements to spend the greater part
of the winter there, as much on account of the certain repose
and seclusion which he craved, as from the physical necessity
of that tonic which the dry cold of the inland offered to his
languid tropical blood.
No disposal had yet been made of the stock and implements
belonging to the farm, which had not been included in the
purchase of the estate. Woodbury's object in buying the
land had no reference to any definite plan of his future life.
He had come back from India with a fortune which, though
moderate, absolved him from the necessity of labor. He sim-
ply wished to have a home of his own an ark of refuge to
which he could at any time return a sheltered spot where
some portion of his life might strike root. His knowledge of
farming was next to nothing. Yet the fields could not be al-
lowed to relapse into wilderness, the house must have a house-
keeper, and the necessity of continuing the present occupants
in their respective functions was too apparent to be discussed,
For the present, at least, Mrs. Babb and Arbutus were indi*
pensable adherents of the property.
A STOEY OF AMERICAN LEFB. 3D
After dinner, Mr. Hammond paid them what was duo from
the estate. Bute turned the money over uneasily in his hand,
grew red in the face, and avoided meeting the.eye of the ne\
owner. Mrs. Babb straightened her long spine, took out a
buckskin purse, and, having put the money therein, began
rubbing the steel clasp with the corner of her apron. Wood-
oury, then, with a few friendly words, expressed his pleasure
at haeing found them in charge of Lakeside, and his desire
that each should continue to serve him in the same capacity as
before.
Mrs. Babb did not betray, by the twitch of a muscle, the
relief she felt. On the contrary, she took credit to herself for
accepting her good fortune. " There's them that would like
to hare me," said she. "Mrs. Dennison never havin' said
nothin' ag'in my housekeeping but the reverse; and I a'n't
bound to stay, for want of a good home ; but somebody must
keep house for ye, and I'd hate to see things goin' tc wrack,
after keerin' for 'em, a matter o' twenty year. Well I'll
stay, I guess, and do my best, as I've always done it."
" Et tu, Bute ?" said Mr. Hammond, whose small puns
had gained him a reputation for wit, in Tiberius.
Bute understood the meaning, not the words. "I'm glad
Mr. Max. wants me," he answered, eagerly. " I'd hate to leave
the old place, though I'm able to get my livin' most anywheres.
But it'd be like leavin' home and jist now, with that two
year old colt to break, and a couple o' steers that I'm goin' to
yoke in the spring it wouldn't seem natural, like. Mr. Max.
and me was boys together here, and I guess we can hitch
teams without kickin' over the traces."
After arranging for an inventory and appraisal of the live
took, farming implements, and the greater part of t^e furni-
ture, which Woodbury decided to retain, Mr. Hammn-ud took
his departure. Mrs. Babb prepared her tea at the usual early
hour. After some little hesitation, she took her seat at the
table, but evadud participation in the meal. Mr. Woodbury
sat much longer than she was accustomed to see, in the people
40 HANNAH TUURSTON:
of Ptolemy : he sipped his tea slowly, and actually accepted
fourth cup. Mrs. Babb's gratification reached its height when
he began to praise her preserved quinces, but on his unthink-
ingly declaring them to be " better than ginger," her grimnest
returned.
" Better than ginger ! I should think so 1" was her mental
exclamation.
Throwing himself into the old leather arm-chair before the
library fire, Woodbury enjoyed the perfect stillness of the No-
vember evening. The wind had fallen, and the light of a half-
moon lay upon the landscape. The vague illumination, the
shadowy outlines of the distant hills, and that sense of isola-
tion from the world which now returned upon him, gratefully
brought back the half-obliterated moods of his Indian life. He
almost expected to hear the soft whish of the punka above his
head, and to find, suddenly, the " hookah-burdar" at his
elbow. A cheerful hickory-fed flame replaced the one, and a
ripe Havana cigar the other ; but his repose was not des-
tined to be left undisturbed. " The world" is not so easy to
escape. Even there, in Ptolemy, it existed, and two of its
special agents (self-created) already knocked at the door of
Lakeside.
The housekeeper ushered Mr. Hamilton Bue and the lion,
Zeno Harder into the library. The latter, as Member of the
Legislature, considered that this call was due, as, in some sort,
an official welcome to his district. Besides, his next aim was
the State Senate, and the favor of a new resident, whose
wealth would give him influence, could not be secured toe
soon. Mr. Bue, as the host of the previous evening, enjoyed
an advantage over the agent of the " Etna," which he wis not
slow to use. His politeness was composed of equal parts of
curiosity and the " Saratoga Mutual."
" We thought, Sir," said the Hon. Zeno, entering, " that
your first evening here might be a little lonesome, and you'd
be glad to have company for an hour or so."
The Member was a coarse, obese man, with heavy chops,
A STOET OF AMERICAN LIFE. 41
thick, flat lips, small eyes, bald crown, and a voice which had
been made harsh and aggressive in its tone by much vigorous
oratory in the open air. The lines of his figure were rounded,
it is true, but it was the lumpy roundness of a potato rather
than the swelling, opulent curves of well-padded muscle
Mr Hamilton Bue, in contrast to him, seemed to be made
angles. His face and hands had that lean dryness which sug
gests a body similarly constructed, and makes us thankful for
the invention of clothing. He was a prim, precise business
man, as the long thin nose and narrow lips indicated, with a
trace of weakness in the retreating chin. Neither of these
gentlemen posfcessed a particle of that grapy bloom of ripe
manhood, which tells of generous blood in either cell of the
double heart. In one the juice was dried up; in the other it
had become thick and slightly rancid.
They were not the visitors whom Woodbury would hav*j
chosen, but the ostensible purpose of their call demanded
acknowledgment. He therefore gave them a cordial welcome,
and drew additional chairs in front of the fire. The Hon.
Zeno, taking a cigar, elevated his feet upon the lower mould-
ing of the wooden mantel-piece, spat in the fire, and re-
marked :
" You find Ptolemy changed, I dare say. Let me see
when were you here last ? In ' 82 ? I must have been study-
ing law in Tiberius at that time. Oh, it's scarcely the same
place. So many went West after the smash in '37, and new
people have come in new people and new idees, I may
say."
" We have certainly shared in the general progression ol
the country, even during my residence here," said Mr. Ham-
ilton Bue, carefully assuming his official style. "Ten years
ago, there were but thirty-seven names on the books of th
Saratoga Mutual. Now we count a hundred and thirteen
But there is a reason for it : the Company pays its loss punc-
tually most punctually."
Unconscious of this dexterous advertising, Woodburj
42 HANNAH THUESTON:
answered the Hon. Zeno : " Since I am to be, for a while, a
member of your community, I am interested in learning some-
thing more about it. What are the new ideas you mentioned,
Mr. Harder?"
" Well, Sir, I can't exactly say that Hunkerism is a ne~w
thing in politics. I'm a Barnburner, you must know, and
since the split it seems like new parties, though we hold on to
the old principles. Then there's the Temperance Reform
swep' every thing before it, at first, but slacking off just now
The Abolitionists, it's hardly worth while to count there's so
few of them but they make a mighty noise. Go for Non-
Resistance, Women's Rights, and all other Isms. So, you see,
compared to the old times, when 'twas only Whig and Demo-
crat, the deestrict is pretty well stirred up."
Mr. Bue, uncertain as to the views of his host upon some of
the subjects mentioned, and keeping a sharp eye to his own
interests, here remarked in a mild, placable tone : " I don't
know that it does any harm. People must have their own
opinions, and there's no law to hinder it. In fact, frequent
discussion is a means of intellectual improvement."
" But what's the use of discussing what's contrary to Scrip-
tur' and Reason?" cried the Hon. Zeno, in his out-door voice.
" Ow party is for Free Soil, and you can't go further under
the Constitution, so, what's the use in talking? Non-
Resistance might be Christian enough, if all men was saints ;
but we've got to take things as we find 'em. When you're
hit, hit back, if you want to do any good in these times. As
for Women's Rights, it's the biggest humbug of all. A
pretty mess we should be in, if it could be carried out! Think
of my wife taking the stump against Mrs. Blackford, and me
and him doing the washing and cooking !"
" Who was the Abolitionist for such I took him to be
with whom you were talking, last evening, at Mr. Bue's?"
Woodbury asked.
" Wattles a tailor in Ptolemy one of the worst fanatic*
among 'em!" the irate Zeuo replied. "Believes in all thf
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 48
Isms, and thinks himself a great Reformer. It's disgusting to
hear a man talk about Women's Rights, as he does. I don't
mind it so much in Hannah Thurston ; but the fact is, she's
more of a man than the most of 'em. r
" Hannah Thurston 1 Is not that the lady who sang- a
pale, earnest-looking girl, in a gray dress ?"
" I did'nt notice her dress," the Member answered. " She
ings, though not much voice, but what she has tells amaz-
ingly. Between ourselves, I'll admit that she's a 6rst-rate
speaker that is, for a woman. I was tempted to have a
round with her, at the last meeting they held ; but then, you
know, a woman always has you at a disadvantage. You
daren't give it back to them as sharp as you get it."
" Do you really mean that she makes public harangues ?"
exclaimed Woodbury, who, in his long absence from home,
had lost sight of many new developments in American
society.
" Yes, and not bad ones, either, when yon consider the sub-
ject. Her mother used to preach in Quaker Meetings, so it
doesn't seem quite so strange as it might. Besides, she isn't
married, and one can make some allowance. But when Sarah
Merryfield gets up and talks of the tyranny of man, it's a
little too much for me. I'd like to know, now, exactly what
her meek lout of a husband thinks about it."
" Is Mrs. Waldo, also, an advocate of the new doctrine ?"
" She ? No indeed. She has her rights already : that is,
all that a woman properly knows how to use. Though I don't
like the Cimmerian doctrine Mr. Waldo is pastor of thfl
Cimmerians yet I think she's a much better Christian than
the Merryfields, who still hang on to our Church."
" What are the Cimmerians ?" inquired Woodbury. " Are
they so called from the darkness of their doctrines ?"
The Hon. Zeno did not understand the classical allusion
" They're followers of the Rev. Beza Cimmer," he said. " He
was first a Seceder, I believe, but differed with them on thft
doctrine of Grace. Besides, they think that Baptism, to b
44 HANNAH THUR8TON :
saving, must be in exact imitation of that of the Saviour
The preacher wears a hair garment, like John the Baptis^
when he performs the ceremony, and the converts long, white
robes. They pick out some creek for their Jordan, and do
not allow outsiders to be present. They don't grow in nura
bers, and have but a very small congregation in Ptolemy. IB
fact, Mr. Waldo is considered rather shaky by some of the
oder members, who were converted by Cimmer himself. He
don't hold very close communion."
A part of this explanation was incomprehensible to Wood-
bury, who was not yet familiar with the catch-words which
fall so glibly from the mouths of country theologians. He
detected the Member's disposition to harangue instead of
converse a tendency which could only be prevented by a
frequent and dexterous change of subject. " Your church,"
he said : " I take it for granted you refer to that of Mr.
Styles, seems to be in a flourishing condition."
"Yes," replied Mr. Hamilton Bue, "we have prospered
under his ministry. Some have backslidden, it is true, but we
have had encouraging seasons of revival. Our ladies are now
very earnest in the work of assisting the Jutnapore Mission.
Mrs. Boerum is from Syracuse, and a particular friend of Miss
Eliza Clancy. I think Miss Eliza herself would have gone
if she had been called in time. You know it requires a
double call."
" A double call ! Excuse me if I do not quite understand
you," said the host.
" Why, of course, they must first be called to the work;
md then, as they can't go alone among the heathen, they
must afterwards depend on a personal call from some m>
married missionary. Now Miss Clancy is rather too old
for that."
Woodbury could not repress a smile at this naive statement,
although it was made with entire gravity. " I have seen some-
thing of your missions in India," he at last remarked, " and
believe that they are caoable of accomplishing much good.
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 41
Still, you must not expect immediate returns. It is only tlw
lowest caste that is now reached, and the Christianizing of
India must come, eventually, from the highest.'-'
Rather than discuss a subject of which he was ignorant, the
Hon, Zeno started a new topic. " By the way, the next meet-
ing of the Sewing Union will be at Merryfield's. Shall you
Attend, Mr. Woodbury ?"
" Yes. They are among the few persons who have kept me
m good remembrance, though they, too, from what you have
said, must be greatly changed since I used to play with their
eon Absalom. I am very sorry to hear of his death."
" It is a pity," replied the Member, biting off the end of a
fresh cigar. " Absalom was really a fine, promising fellow,
but they spoiled him with their Isms. They were Grahamites
for a year or two lived on bran bread and turnips, boiled
wheat and dried apples. Absalom took up that and the
water-cure, and wanted to become a patent first-class reformer.
Now, Temperance is a good thing though I can't quite go
the Maine Law but water inside of you and outside of you,
summer and winter alike, isn't temperance, according to my
idee. He had a spell of pleurisy, one winter, and doctored
himself for it. His lungs were broken up, after that, and he
went off the very next fall. They set a great deal of store
by him."
" Is it possible that such delusions are held by intelligent
persons ?" exclaimed Woodbury, shocked as well as sur-
prised. " I hope these theories are not included in the gene-
ral progress of which Mr. Bue spoke. But I have almost for-
gotten my duty as a host. The nights are getting cold, gen
lleuien, and perhaps you will take a glass of wine."
The Hen. Zeno's small eyes twinkled, and his lips twitched
'liquorously. " Well I don't care if I do," said be.
Mr. Hamilton Bue was silent, and slightly embarrassed. He
had found it necessary to join the Temperance Society, be-
cause the reform was a popular one. He always went with
the current as soon as it became too strong to stem con
id HANNAH THUBSTON:
leniently. But the temptation to indulge still lurked in hit
thin blood. It was evident that the Member, for his own
sake, would not mention the circumstance, and Mr. Wood
bury, in all probability, would never think of it again.
Some of Mrs. Bubb's "Madary" presently twinkled like
smoky topaz in the light of the wood-fire. Mr. Bue at first
sipped hesitatingly, like a bather dipping his toes, with a
shudder, into the waters of a cold river ; but having once
reached the bottom of the glass so quickly, indeed, that it
excited his own surprise he made the next plunge with the
boldness of a man accustomed to it.
" You will attend church, I presume, Mr. Woodbury ?"
said he. " Of course you have convictions. v
" Certain! v. " Woodbury answered, without a clear idea of
wnai was meant by the word " very strong ones."
" Of course it could not be otherwise. I shall be very
glad if you will now and then accept a seat in my pew. Mr,
Styles is a great authority on Galatians, and I am sure you
will derive spiritual refreshment from his sermons."
Here the Hon. Zeno rose and commenced buttoning his
coat, as a signal of departure. Growing confidential from his
inner warmth, he placed one hand affectionately on Wood-
bury's shoulder, somewhat to the latter's disgust, and said:
" Now you are one of us, Woodbury, you must take an active
part in our political concerns. Great principles are at stake,
Sir, and the country has need of men like you. Let me warn
you against the Hunkers their game is nearly played out
I'll be most happy, Sir, to explain to you the condition of
parties. You'll find me well posted up."
Mr. Bue took occasion to make a parting hint in the interest
of the Saratoga Mutual. " If you wish to have your house in-
sured, Mr. Woodbury," said he, " I shall be glad to send yow
our pamphlets. The Company is so well known, fortunately,
that its name is a sufficient recommendation."
The owner of Lakeside stood on the verandah, watching
bis guests drive down the maple avenue. As the sound o/
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 41
Iheir wheels sank below the brow of the hill, the muffled
voice of Roaring Brook came softly to him, across the dark
meadows. A part of Atauga Lake threw back the light of
the descending moon. "Here," thought he, "is the com-
mencement of a new existence. It is not the old, boyish life
of which I dreamed, but something very different. I foresee
that I shall have to accustom myself to many features of this
society, which are not attractive some of them even repug-
nant and perhaps the only counterbalancing delight left to
me will be the enjoyment of this lovely scenery, the peace of
this secluded life. Will that be sufficient? Or will these
oaks and pines at last pall upon my eye, like the palms and
banyans of the East ? No : one cannot be satisfied with ex-
ternal resources. I must study, with a liberal human interest
the characteristics of this little community, however strango
or repellant they may seem; and certainly, after making
friends among the fossilized Brahmins, there must be a few
among my fellow-Christians and fellow-countrymen, whom 1
can heartily respect and love. Those long Indian years must
be placed in a closed Past, and I must adapt myself to habits
and associations, which have become more foreign than
familiar to me."
HANNAH THUB8TOV :
CHAPTER IV.
AH INtEBVOTW ON THE KOAD, AND A NEW HOUSEHOLD.
THE Indian Summer still held its ground, keeping back the
winter's vanguard of frost and keen nor 1 westers. Day by
day the smoky air became more densely blue and still, and
the leaves, long since dead, hung upon the trees for want of a
loosening wind. The hickory-nuts fell by their own weight,
pattering here and there in the woods, in single smart raps,
and giving out a vigorous balsamic odor, as their cleft rinds
burst open. Only at night a gathering chill and a low moan-
ing in the air gave the presage of an approaching change in
the season.
On one of those warm forenoons which almost reproduce
the languor and physical yearning of the opening Spring,
Bute Wilson, mounted on Dick, the old farm-horse, jogged
slowly along the road to Ptolemy, whistling " The Rose that
All are Praising," a melody which he had learned at the
singing-school. Bute was bound for the village, on a variety
of errands, and carried a basket on his arm. Dick's delibe-
rate gait seemed to be in harmony with the current of hia
thoughts, The horse understood his rider, and knew very
well when to take his ease, and when to summon up the little
life left in his stiff old legs. Horses are better interpreters of
one's moods than the most of one's human friends.
Bute was a very good specimen of the American country-
man. A little over the average height, and compacted ol
coarse, hardy fibre, he possessed, in spite of the common
stock from which he had sprung, the air of independent self-
respect which a laboring man can only acquire ; " a commu-
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 4
nity where caste is practically ignored. His independence,
however, had not degenerated into impudence : he knew his
deficiencies of nature and education, and did not attempt to
off-set them by a vulgar assertion of equality. He could sit
t Mr. Woodbary's table (using the knife a little too freely)
without embarrassment, and could take his dinner in the
kitchen without being conscious of degradation. His horses,
cattle, and crops occupied the first place in his mind him
self no, another person had the second place and his own
personality gave him the least trouble. He was a general
favorite in the neighborhood, and his position was, perhaps,
more fortunate than he knew, though the knowledge of it
would not have made him happier than he was. He was hon-
estly respected by those below, and not looked down upon by
those above him. This consideration was won by his thorough
frankness, simplicity, and kindness of heart. His face was too
broad and his nose too thick, to be called handsome; but
there were fewer eyes into which men looked with more satis-
faction than the pair of large blue-gray ones, divided by the
nose aforesaid. His forehead was rather low, but open and
smooth, and his yellow hair, curling a little at the ends, grew
back from the temples with a sturdy set, as if determined that
they should not be hidden. Add to these traits a voice mel-
low in spite of its volume the cattle understood its every in
flection and it is easy to perceive that Bute was in especial
favor with the opposite sex. From head to foot, Nature had
written upon him : This man is a male.
Bute had climbed the rise beyond Roaring Brook, when his
reveries, whatever they might have been, were interrupted by
the sight of a woman, walking towards Ptolemy, a short dis-
tance in advance of him. Although no other person was near,
to play the spy, he felt the blood creeping up to his ears, as
he looked keenly and questioningly at the little figure, in its
dark-blue merino dress, tripping forward with short, quick
steps. Dick noticed the change in his master, and broke into
* trot down the gentle slope. At the sound of hoofs, the figure
8
(0 HANNAH THTTBSTON:
*
turned, disclosing a bunch of brown ringlets and a saucy littl*
nose, then drew to one side of the road and stopped.
u Good-morning, Miss Carrie !" cried Bute, as he drew rein,
on approaching : " I thought it was you. Goin' to Ptolemy ?
So am I. Git up on the bank, and I'll take ye on behind me.
Dick 11 carry double he's as quiet as a lamb. Here, I'll jerk
off my coat for you to set on." And he had his right arm oat
of the sleeve before he had finished speaking.
"Ah!" cried the lady, affecting a mild scream; "No, in-
deed, Mr. Wilson ! I am so afraid of horses. Besides, I don't
think it would look right."
It suddenly occurred to- Bute's mind, that, in order to ride
as he had proposed, she would be obliged to clasp him with
both arms. Heaving a sigh of regret, he drew on his coat and
jumped off the horse.
"Well, if you won't ride with me, I'll walk with you, anv
how. How's your health, Miss Carrie ?" offering his hand.
" Very well, I thank you, Mr. Wilson. How's Mrs. Babb ?
And I hear that Mr. Woodbury has come to live with you."
Miss Caroline Dilworth was too well satisfied at meeting with
Bute, to decline his proffered company. She was on her way
from the house of a neighboring farmer, where she had been
spending a fortnight as seamstress, to the cottage of the widow
Thurston, who lived on the edge of the village. The old
lady's health was declining, and Miss Dilworth occasionally
Tendered a friendly assistance to the daughter. They were
both ahvays glad to see the lively, chattering creature, in spite
of her manifold weaknesses and affectations. She was twenty
five years of age, at least, but assumed all the timidity and in-
experience of a girl of sixteen, always wearing her hair in a
mesh of natural ringlets which hung about her neck, and talk-
ing with a soft childish drawl, unless which rarely happen
ed she was so very much in earnest as to forget herself. Her
QOSQ was piquantly retrousse, her mouth small and cherry-red,
and her complexion fair (for she took great care of it) ; but
her eyes inclined to pale-green rather than blue, and she had
A 81 GUY OF AMERICAN UEE. 51
an affected habit of dropping the lids. Perhaps this was to
conceal the unpleasant redness of their edges, for they wer
oftentimes so inflamed as to oblige her to suspend her occupa-
tion. Her ambition was, to become a teacher a post foi
which she was not at all qualified. Hannah Thurston, how
ever, had kindly offered to assist her in preparing herself foi
the coveted career.
What it was that attracted Bute Wilson to Miss Dilworth,
he was unable to tell. Had the case been reversed, we should
not wonder at it. Only this much was certain ; her society
was a torment to him, her absence a pain. He would have cut
off his little finger for the privilege of just once lifting her in
his strong arms, and planting a kiss square upon the provok-
ing mouth, which, as if conscious of its surplus of sweetness,
could say so many bitter things to him. Bute had never
spoken to her of the feeling which she inspired in him. Why
should he ? She knew just how he felt, and he knew that she
knew it. She played with him as he had many a time piayed
with a big trout at the end of his line. Over and over again
he had been on the point of giving her up, out of sheer worri-
ment and exhaustion of soul, when a sudden look from those
downcast eyes, a soft word, half whispered in a voice whose
deliberate sweetness tingled through him, from heart to finger-
ends, bound him faster than ever. Miss Dilworth little sus-
pected Low many rocks she had sledged to pieces, how many
extra swaths she had mowed in June, and shocks of corn she
had husked in October, through Bute Wilson's arm. If Mr.
Woodbury were a cunning employer, he would take measures
to prolong this condition of suspense.
On the present occasion, the affected little minx was un-
Dsually gracious towards her victim. She had a keen curiosity
to gratify. " Now, Bute," said she, as they started together
towards Ptolemy, Bute leading Dick by the bridle ; " I wan*
you to tell me all about this Mr. Woodbury. What kind of a
man is he ?"
" He's only been with us three or four days. To be sure, 7
52 11ANNA1I THUKSTON :
kuowed him as a boy, but that's long ago, and I may have to
learn him over ag'in. It won't be a hard thing to do, though :
he's a gentleman, if there ever was one. He's a man that'll
always do what's right, if he knows how."
"I mean, Bute, how he looks. Tall or short? Is he hand-
aome ? Isn't he burnt very black, or is it worn off?"
" Not so many questions at once, Miss Carrie. He a'n't
blacker 'n I'd be now, if I was complected like him. Tall, you
might call him nigh two inches more'n I am, and a reg'lar
pictur' of a man, though a bit thinner than he'd ought to be.
But I dunno whether you'd call him handsome : women has
sich queer notions. Now, there's that Seth Wattles, that you
think sich a beauty "
% Bute Wilson! You know I don't think any such thing!
It's Seth's mind that I admire. There's such a thing as moral
and intellectual beauty, but that you don't understand."
" No, hang it ! nor don't want to, if he's got it ! I believe
in a man's doin' what he purtends to do keepin' his mind on
his work, whatever it is. If Seth Wattles lays out to be a
tailor, let him be one : if he wants to be a moral and intel-
lectual beauty, he may try that, for all I keer but he can't do
both to once't. I wish he'd make better trowsus, or give up
his business."
Miss Dilworth knew her own weakness, and carefully avoid-
ed entering into a discussion. She was vexed that one of the
phrases she had caught from Hannah Thurston, and which she
had frequently used with much effect, had rattled harmlessly
against the hard mail of Bute's common sense. At another
time she would have taken or have seemed to take offence,
at his rough speech ; but she had not yet heard enough of Mr.
Woodbuiy.
" Well, never mind Seth," she said, " you've not finished tell-
ing me about your new master."
If she had intended to prick Bute with this word, she utterly
failed. He quietly resumed the description: "Every man
that I like is handsome to me ; but I think any woman would
A STOKY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 53
admire to see Mr. Max. He's got big brown eyes, like ti MB
o' the doe Master Harry used to have, and a straight nose, like
one o' the plaster heads in the libery. He wears a beard on
his upper lip, but no whiskers, and his hair is brown, and sort
o',curlin'. He's a man that knows what he's about, and can
make up his mind in five minutes, and looks you straight in
the face when he talks ; and if he'd a hard thing to say (though
he's said nothin' o' the kind to me), he'd say it without flinchin',
a little worse to your face than what he'd say behind y'r back.
But what I like best in him, is, that he knows how to mind his
own business, without botherin' himself about other folks'8.
You wouldn't ketch him a pitchin' into me because I chaw
tobacco, like Seth Wattles did, with all his moral and intellec-
tual beauty."
" Oh, but, Bute, you know it's so unhealthy. I do wisd
you'd give it up."
" Unhealthy ! Stuff and nonsense look at me !" And, in
deed Bute, stopping, straightening himself, throwing out his
breast, and striking it with a hard fist until it rang like a muf-
fled drum, presented a picture of lusty, virile strength, which
few men in the neighborhood of Ptolemy could have matched.
" Unhealthy !" he continued ; " I s'pose you'd call Seth
healthy, with his tallow face, and breast-bone caved in. Why,
the woman that marries him can use his ribs for a wash-board,
when she's lost her'n. Then there was Absalom Merryfield,
you know, killed himself out and out, he was so keerful o' hit
health. I'd ruther have no health at ah 1 , a darned sight, than
worry my life out, thinkin' on it. Not that I could'nt give
up chawin' tobacco, or any thing eke, if there was a good
reason for it. What is it to you, Carrie, whether I chaw or
not ?"
Miss Dilworth very well understood Bute's meaning, but
let it go without notice, as he knew she would. The truth is,
she was not insensible to his many good qualities, but she was
ambitious of higher game. She had not attended all the meet-
ings held in Ptolemy, in favor of Temperance, Anti-Slavery
E4 HANNAH THURSTON:
and Women s Rights, without imbibing as much conceit fta
the basis of her small mind could support. The expressions
which, from frequent repetition, she had caught and retained,
were put to such constant use, that she at last fancied them
half original, and sighed for a more important sphere than
that of a sempstress, or even a teacher. She knew she could
never become a speaker she was sure of that but might sh
not be selected by some orator of Reform, as a kindled soul,
to support him with her sympathy and appreciation ? Thus
far, however, her drooping lids had been lifted and her curls
elaborately tangled, in vain. The eloquent disciples, not
understanding these mute appeals, passed by on the other side.
She drew the conversation back to Mr. Woodbury, and
kept it to that theme until she had ascertained all that Bute
knew, or was willing to tell ; for the latter had such a strong
sense of propriety about matters of this kind, as might have
inspired doubts of his being a native-born American. By this
time they had reached the bridge over East Atauga Creek,
whence it was but a short distance to the village.
" There is Friend Thurston's cottage, at last," said Miss
Dilworth. " Have you seen Miss Hannah lately ? But, of
course, she can't visit Lakeside now."
" I'm sorry for it," Bute remarked. " She's a fine woman,
in spite of her notions. But why can't she ?"
" It would not be proper."
" Wouldn't it be proper for a man to visit us ?"
" To be sure. How queer you talk, Bute !"
" Well she says a woman should be allowed to do what
ever a man does. If Women's Rights is worth talkin' about,
t's worth carryin' out. But I guess Miss Hannah's more of
woman than she knows on. I like to hear her talk, might j
well, and she says a good many things that I can't answer,
but they're ag'in nature, for all that. If she was married and
had a family growin' up 'round her, she wouldn't want to be a
lawyer or a preacher. Here we are, at the gate. Good-by {
Miss Carrie 1"
A STOEY OF AMERICAN LIFE. U
u Good-by, Bute !" said Miss Dilworth, mechanically,
pausing at the gate to see him spring into the saddle and trot
rapidly down the street. She was confounded, and a littl
an g r yi at the nonchalance with which he treated her oracle.
" I wish it had been Hannah Thurston, instead of me," sh
said to herself, with a spiteful toss of her head " she hat
in answer ready for everybody."
The plot of ground in front of the cottage already wore
ts winter livery. The roses were converted into little obe-
lisks of straw, the flower-beds were warmly covered, and only
the clumps of arbor-vitse and the solitary balsam-fir were al-
lowed to display their hardy green. Miss Dilworth passed
around the bouse to the kitchen entrance, for she knew the
fondness of the inmates for warmth and sunshine, and thr
sitting-room which they habitually occupied looked south
ward, over the vegetable garden, to the meadows of the east-
ern valley. Every thing was scrupulously neat and ordered.
The tops of vegetables left for seed and the dead stalks of
summer flowers had been carefully removed from the garden.
The walks had been swept by a broom, and the wood-shed,
elsewhere more or less chaotic in its appearance, was here
visited by the same implement. Its scattered chips seemed
to have arranged themselves into harmonious forms, like the
atoms of sand under the influence of musical tones.
In the kitchen a girl of thirteen the only servant the
house afforded was watching the kettles and pans on the
cooking-stove. This operation might have been carried on in
the parlor just as well, so little appearance was there of the
isual " slops" and litter of a kitchen. This was Friend
Churston's specialty as a housekeeper her maxim was, that
there should be no part of a house where a visitor might not
be received. Her neighbors always spoke of her kitchen with
in admiration wherein there was a slight mixture of despair.
The sitting-room, beyond, was made cheerful by windows
opening to th south and east ; but more so by the homely
simplicity and comfort oi' its arrangement. Every object
(6 HJLNTtfAH THTTOSTOW t
spoke of limited means, but nothing of pinched self-denial
The motley-colored rag carpet was clean, thick, and warm j
the chintz sofa was relieved by inviting cushions ; the old-
fashioned rocking-chair was so stuffed and padded as to remedy
its stiffness; the windows were curtained, and a few brands were
smouldering among white ashes in the grate. A shelf inside
the southern window held some tea-roses in pots, mignionette,
heliotrope, and scarlet verbenas. There were but three pictures
a head of Milton, an old wood-engraving of the cottage where
George Fox was born, and a tolerable copy of the Madonna
della Seggiola. On a stand in the corner were the favorite
volumes of the old lady, very plainly bound, as was meet, i&
calf of a drab color Job Scott's Works, Woolman's Journal,
and William Penn's " No Cross, No Crown." A swinging
book-shelf, suspended on the wall, contained a different collec-
tion, which evidently belonged to the daughter. Several
volumes of Carlyle, Margaret Fuller, Shelley, Bettina von
Arnim, De Stael's " Corinne," the " Record of Woman,"
Milton, George Sands' "Consuelo," Mrs. Child's "Letters
from New York," Hugh Miller, and bound numbers of the
"Liberty Bell," were among them. Had a certain drawer
been opened, one would have found files of The Slavery An-
nihilato'', Mrs. Swisshelm's Saturday Visitor, and the weekly
edition of the New-York Tribune. A rude vase of birch
bark, on a bracket, was filled with a mass of flowering grasses,
exquisitely arranged with regard to their forms and colors,
from pale green and golden-gray to the loveliest browns and
purples. This object was a work of art, in its way, and shod
a gleam of beauty over the plainness of the apartment.
Friend Gulielma Thurston, leaning back in the rocking chair
had Buffered her hands, with the knitting they held, to suifc
into her lap, and looked out upon the hazy valley. Her thiE
face, framed in the close Quaker cap, which barely allowed hei
gray hair to appear at the temples, wore a sweet, placid ex-
pression, though the sunken eyes and set lips told of physical
suffering. The spotless book-muslin handkerchief, many-folded,
A STORY OF AMERICAN UFB. 5?
covered her neck and breast, and a worsted aj iron was tied
over her drab gown, rather from habit than use. As she bask
ed in the baimy warmth of the day, her wasted fingers uncon
sciously clasped themselves in a manner that expressed patience
and trust. These were the prominent qualities of her nature
Vbe secret of her cheerfulness and the source of her 3ourage.
Late married, she had lost her first child, and shortly after
the birth of her daughter Hannah, her husband also. The lat-
ter was a stern, silent man, rigid in creed and in discipline, but
with a concealed capacity for passion which she had not under-
stood while she possessed him. Her mind first matured in
the sorrow of his loss, and she became, from that natural
neea which is content with no narrower comfort, a speaker in
the meetings of her sect. The property she inherited at her
husband's death was very small, and she was obliged to labo
beyond her strength, until the bequest of an unmarried brother
relieved her from pressing want. Hannah, to whom she had
managed to give a tolerably thorough education, obtained a
situation as teacher, for which she proved so competent that
a liberal offer from the Trustees of the Young Ladies' Semi-
navy at Ptolemy induced both mother and daughter to remove
thither. Her earnings, added to the carefully husbanded pro-
perty, finally became sufficient to insure them a modest sup-
port, so that, when her mother's failing health obliged Hannah
to give up her place, there was no serious anxiety for the
future to interfere with her filial duty.
The daughter was seated at the eastern window, beside a
small table, which was covered with gorgeously tinted autnmn
leaves. She was occupied in arranging them in wreathe and
groups, on sheets of card-board, which were designed to form
an album, and to wear, as binding, the embroidery of fern-
leaves, upon which w r e first found her engaged. Such an
album, contributed by her to the Anti-Slavery Fair, the previ
ous year, had enriched the treasury of the Society by the som
often dollars, and the managers had begged a second donation
of the same kind.
S*
68 HANNAH THUKSTON !
Catching a glimpse of Miss Dilworth through the window
she rose to receive her. In stature, she was somewhat abov
the average height of women, though not noticeably tall, aud
\ little too slender for beauty. Her hands were thio, but
finely formed, and she carried them as if they were a conscious
portion of herself, not an awkward attachment. Her face
would have been a perfect oval, except that the forehead, in
stead of being low and softly rounded, was rather squarely
developed in the reflective region, and the cheeks, though not
thin, lacked the proper fulness of outline. Her hair was of a rich,
dark-brown, black in shadow, and the delicate arches of the
eye-brows were drawn with a clear, even pencil, above the
earnest gray eyes, dark and deep under the shadow of their
long lashes. The nose was faultless, and the lips, although no
longer wearing their maidenly ripeness and bloom, were so
pure in outline, so sweetly firm in their closing junction, so
lovely in their varying play of expression, that the life of her
face seenu-d to dwell in them alone. Her smile had a rare
benignity and beauty. The paleness of her face, being, to
some extent, a feature of her physical temperament, did not
convey the impression of impaired health : a ruddy tint would
not have harmonized with the spiritual and sensitive character
of her countenance. No one would have dreamed of calling
Hannah Thurston a beauty. In society nine men would have
passed her without a thought ; but the tenth would have stood
still, and said : " Here is a woman ' to sit at a king's right
hand, in thunder-storms,' " and would have carried her face in
his memory forever.
The severest test of a woman is to play an exceptional part
in the world. Her respect, her dignity, her virtue itself, be
come doubtful, if not mythical, in the eyes of men. In the
small circle of Ptolemy, Hannah Thurston had subjected her-
self to this test, and it was no slight triumph for her, had she
known it, that, while her views were received with either hor-
ror or contempt, while the names of her fellow priestesses 01
prophetesses were bandied about in utter disrespect, she wst
A SICK? OF AMEMCAN LIFE. 69
never personally ridiculed. No tongue dared to whisper an
insinuation against either her sincerity or her purity. This,
however, was partly owing to the circumstanpes of her life in
the place. She had first achieved popularity as a teacher, and
honor as a daughter. Among other things, it was generally re-
ported and believed that she had declined an offer of marriage,
advantageous in a worldly point of view, and the act was set
down to her credit as wholly one of duty towards her mother.
In her plain brown dress, with linen collar and cuffs, the
only ornament being a knot of blue ribbon at the throat, she
also, appeared to be a Quakeress ; yet, she had long since per-
ceived that the external forms of the sect had become obsolete,
and no longer considered herself bound by them. Some con-
cession in dress, however, was still due for her mother's sake,
beyond whose rapidly shortening span of life she could see no
aim in her own, unless it were devoted to righting the wrongs
of her sex. She had had her girlish dreams ; but the next
birthday was her thirtieth, and she had already crossed, in re-
solve, that deep gulf in a woman's life.
Miss Caroline Dilworth, in her blue dress, came as if dipped
in the Indian Summer, with a beryl gleam in her eyes, as she
darted into the sitting-room. She caught Hannah Thurston
around the waist, and kissed her twice : she was never known
to greet her female friends with less. Then, leaning gently
over the rocking-chair, she took the old woman's hand.
" Take off thy bonnet, child," said the latter, " and push
thy hair back, so that I can see thy face. I'm glad thee's
come."
" Oh, Friend Thurston, I was so afraid I couldn't get away
from Parkman's. It's a lonely place, you know, over the hill,
and she's hard of hearing. Ah ! I'm out of breath, yet" and
therewith heaving a sigh of relief, the little creature threw off
her shawl and untied the strings of her bonnet.
Their life had so much in it that was grave and earnest
their conversation naturally turning to the past rather than
ihe future that the Thurstons always felt themselves cheered
60 HANNAH THUB8TON :
by Miss Dilworth's visits. She dropped her affratauons in
their presence, and became, for the time, a light-hearted, ami-
able, silly woman. She never arrived without a fresh budget
of gossip, generally of slight importance, but made piquant by
her rattling way of telling it.
" How thee does run on !" Friend Thurston would some
times say, whereupon the sempstress would only toas her curli
and run on all the more inveterately.
" Oh, I must tell you all about Lakeside and the new owner !"
she exclaimed, as she settled herself into a chair.
Hannah Thurston could probably have told her more about
Mr. Woodbury than she already knew; but it would have
been unkind to cut short the eager narrative, and uo Bute's re-
port, with many additions and variations, was served out to
them in chapters, during the afternoon.
* STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE.
CHAPTER V.
IH WHICH MR. WOODBURT HEARS A WOMAN SPBUK.
1st his intercourse with the society of his new home, Wood
bury found fewer distasteful circumstances to be overlooked,
than he had at first feared. The novelty of the experience
had its charm, and, as bis mind recovered something of that
active irterest in men which he had almost unlearned, he was
surprised to find how vital and absorbing his relations with
them became. From the very earnestness of his views, how-
ever, he was reticent in the expression of them, and could with
difficulty accustom himself to the discussion, in mixed society, of
subjects which are usually only broached in the confidential inti-
macy of friends. Not merely " Fate, free-will, foreknowledge
absolute," but the privacy of individual faiths, doubts, and as-
pirations, became themes of discussion ; even the shrinking
sanctity of love was invaded, and the ability to converse
fluently was taken by the community of Ptolemy as a sign of
capacity to feel deeply on these subjects.
At the dinners and evening parties of the English, an intel-
lectual as well as a social propiiety is strictly observed, and the
man who makes a habit of producing for general inspection,
bis religious convictions or his moral experiences, is speedily
voted a bore. Maxwell Woodbury, whose long residence in
Calcutta had fixed his habits, in this respect, was at first more
amused than shocked, at the abandon with which spiritual
intimacies were exchanged, in the society of Ptolemy. He soon
learned, however, that much of this talk was merely a superfi-
cial Beutimentalism, and that the true sanctities of the speakers'
62 HA1TNAH THURSTON:
hearts were violated more in appearance than in fact. Never-
theless, he felt no inclination to take part in conversation of
this character, and fell into the habit of assuming a mystical,
paradoxical tone, whenever he was forcibly drawn into th
discussion. Sometimes, indeed, he was tempted to take the
opposite side of the views advocated, simply in order to extort
m'>re reckless and vehement utterances from their defenders.
It i& not surprising, therefore, that his lack of earnestness, aa
t seemed to the others was attributed by many to a stolid
.ndifference to humanity. Seth Wattles even went so far aa
to say : " I should not wonder if he had made his money in
the accursed opium traffic."
The two topics which, for him, possessed an intrinsically re-
pellant character, happened to be those which were at that
time most actively discussed: Spiritualism and Women's
Rights. He had seen the slight-of-hand of the Indian jugglers,
far more wonderful than any feats supernaturally performed
in the presence of mediums, and the professed communications
from the world of spirits struck him as being more inane
twaddle than that which fell from the lips of the living be-
lievers. He had not lived thirty-six years without as much
knowledge of woman as a single man may profitably acquire;
and the better he knew the sex, the more tender and profound
became his regard. To him, in his strength, however, the re-
lation of protector was indispensable ; the rudest blows of life
must first fall upon his shield. The idea of an independent
strength, existing side by side with his, yet without requiring
its support, was unnatural and repulsive. Aunt Dennison, in
her noble self-abnegation as wife and mother, was more queenly
in his eyes, than Mary Wollstonecraft or Madame de Slae'L
It was difficult for him to believe how any truly refined and
feminine woman could claim for her sex a share in the special
occupations of man.
There is always a perverse fate which attracts one into the
very situations he wishes to avoid. On the evening when the
Sewing-Union met at Merryfield's, Woodbury happened to \*
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 68
drawn into a group which contained Mrs. Waldo, Hannah
Thurston, and the host. The latter was speaking of a plan
for a Female Medical College.
" It is the first step," said he, " and its success will over-
throw the dynasty of ideas, under which woman has beer
crushed, as it were." The phrase: "dynasty of ideas," h
had borrowed from a recent lecturer.
" Well", said Mrs. Waldo, musingly, "if it went no further
I should not have much to say against it, for we know that
women are the best nurses, and they may make tolerable doc
tors. But I should prefer that somebody else than myself
made the beginning."
" You are right," remarked Woodbury ; "it is not pleasant
to think of a woman standing at a dissecting-table, with a
scalpel in her hand, and a quarter of a subject before her."
Hannah Thurston shuddered inwardly, but at once took np
the gauntlet. " Why not ?" she asked. " Are not women
capable of this, and more than this, for the sake of knowledge
that will enable them to do good? Or is it because their
minds are too weak to grapple with the mysteries of science ?"
Woodbury, to avoid a discussion to which he was so
strongly averse, assumed a gay, bantering tone. "In the
presence of ladies," he said, smiling, and partly directing his
words to Mrs. Waldo, " there is only one way of answering
the latter question."
Hannah Thurston was of too earnest a nature to endure
trifling for such seemed his reply. Her gray eyes kindled
with an emotion a very little milder than contempt. "So!"
she exclaimed, " we must still endure the degradation of
hollow compliment. We are still children, and our noise cat
be quieted with sugar-plums!"
" I beg your pardon, Miss Thurston !" Woodbury gravely
answered. " My apparent disrespect was but a shift to avoid
discussing a subject which I have never seriously considered,
and which, I will only say, seems to me a matter of instinct
rather than of argument. Besides," he added, "I believ
64 HANNAH THtTRSTON:
Mrs. Waldo, as our dictatress, prohibits debate on theM
occasions."
The lady referred to immediately came to his assistance.
" 1 do prohibit it ;" said she, with a magisterial wave of the
hand; "and you cannot object to my authority, Hannah,
jince you have a chance to defend our sex, and cover with
confusion all such incorrigible bachelors as Mr. Woodbury, on
Thursday next. I'm sure he's a misanthrope, or mis what
ever you call it."
"A misogynist?" Woodbury gayly suggested. "No, no,
Mrs. Waldo. Do not you, as a clergyman's wife, know that
there may be a devotional feeling so profound as to find the
pale of any one sect too narrow ?"
Hannah Thurston looked earnestly at the speaker. What
did he mean ? was that also jest ? she asked herself. She
was unaccustomed to such mental self-possession. Most of
the men she knew would have answered her with spirit, con-
sidering that to decline a challenge thrown down by a woman
was equivalent to acknowledging the intellectual equality of
the sexes this being the assertion which they most strenu-
ously resisted. Mr. Woodbury, however, had withdrawn as
a matter of taste and courtesy. She had given him the
opportunity of doing so, a little to her own discomfiture, and
was conscious that her self-esteem was wounded by the result.
She could not quite forgive him for this, though his manner,
she felt, compelled respect. At the risk of having her silence
misinterpreted, she made no reply.
Woodbury, who had not understood Mrs. Waldo's allusion,
took an opportunity, later in the evening, to ask for an ex
planation.
" I thought you had heard," said she. " There is to be a
meeting in favor of Women's Rights, on Thursday afternoon,
at the Hah 1 , in Ptolemy. Mr. Bemis, the great advocate of
the reform, is to be there, and I believe they expect Beside
Stryker."
" Who is Bess'.e Stryker ?"
A 6TOBY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 66
" Mr. Woodbury ! It's well you did not ask Hannah Thurt-
ton that question. You've been out of the country I had
forgotten that ; but I should think you must have heard of
her in Calcutta. She has travelled all over the country,
lecturing on the subject, and has made such a name as a
speaker that everybody goes to hear her. She is quite pretty,
and wears the new Bloomer dress."
* Really, you excite my curiosity. I must attend thig
meeting, if only to show Miss Thurston that I am above th*
vulgar prejudice which I presume she imputes to me."
" Oh, no, Mr. Woodbury. Hannah Thurston is not unjust,
whatever faults she may have. But you should know that she
has a dislike morbid, it seems to me of the compliments
which you men generally pay to us women. For my part, I
see no harm in them."
"Both of you, at least, are candid," replied Woodbury,
laughing, "and that trait, with me, covers a multitude of
weaknesses."
Woodbury went to the meeting on the following Thursday,
much as he would have attended a Brahminical festival in
honor of the Goddess Unna-Purna. He felt no particular
interest in the subject to be treated, except a curiosity to know
how it could be rendered plausible to a semi-intelligent
auditory. Of Ptolemy, privately and socially, he had seen
something, but he had not yet mingled with Ptolemy in
public.
" The Hall,'' as it was called (being the only one in the
place), was a brick building, situated on the principal street.
Its true name was Tumblety Hall, from the builder and owner,
Mr. Jabez Tumblety, who had generously bestowed his namt
npon it in consideration of receiving ten per cent, on his in-
vestment, from the lease of it to phrenologists, the dancing
school, Ethiopian Minstrels, exhibitors of laughing gas, lec-
turers on anatomy (the last lecture exclusively for gentlemen),
jugglers, temperance meetings, caucuses of the Hunkers and
Barnburners, and, on Sundays, to the Bethesdeans in thf
60 HANNAH THUBSTOK:
morning and the Spiritualists in the evening. Its intern*
aspect was rather shabby. The roughly-plastered walls offered
too great a temptation for the pencils and charcoal of un-
fledged artists, when bored by a windy orator. Various
grotesque heads, accompanied by names and dates, made up
for the absence of frescoes, but the talent thus displayed did
not seem to be appreciated, for under some of them was
written, in a later hand : " he is a fool." The benches were
of unpainted pine, with long back-rails, which, where they
had not been split off by the weight of the leaning crowd,
were jagged with whittled notches. Along the further end
of the hall ran a platform, raised three feet above the floor,
and containing a table, three arm-chairs, and two settees. The
floor might have been swept, but had not recently been
washed, to judge from the stains of tobacco-juice by which it
was irottled.
When Woodbury entered, the seats were nearly all ocou
pied, an audience of five hundred persons being in attendance.
Most of them were evidently from the country; some, indeed,
who were favorably inclined to the cause, had come from Mul-
ligansville and Atauga City. All the loafers of Ptolemy were
there, of course, and occupied good seats. The few members
of the respectable, conservative, moneyed class, whose curiosity
drew them in, lingered near the door, on the edges of the
crowd, in order that they might leave whenever so disposed,
without attracting attention to their presence.
Mr. Merryfield occupied the middle chair on the platform,
with a heavy-faced, bald-templed, belligerent looking gentleman
on his right, and a middle-aged lady in black silk, on his left.
Tho settees were also occupied by persons of both sexes who
were interested in the cause. Among them was Ilanuah
Thurston.
A whispered consultation was carried on for some time
among the party on the platform, the belligerent gentleman
evidently having the most to say. Finally Mr. Merryfield
arose, thumped upon the table, and after waiting a minute
A STORY Or AMERICAN LIFE. 6?
for the " sh& /" to subside, announced : " The meeting will now
come to order !"
The meeting being already in order, no efljsct was produced
by this announcement.
" As we have assembled together, as it were," he continued,
" principally to listen to the noble advocates of the glorioui
cause who are to appear before us, my friends suggest that
that there should be no that we should dispense, as it were,
with a regular organization, and proceed to listen to their
voices. The only I would suggest, if the meeting is willing,
that we should appoint that is, that a committee should be
named, as it were, to draw up resolutions expressing their
our sense on the subject of Women's Rights. Perhaps," he
added, turning around, " some one will make the motion."
" I move that a committee of six be appointed !" " I second
the motion !" were heard, almost simultaneously.
" Those in favor of that motion will signify their assent by
saying ' Aye !' " said Mr. Merryfield.
" Aye !" rang through the house with startling unanimity,
all the boys expressing their enthusiastic assent.
" Contrary' No !' "
Dead silence.
"The Ayes have it. Who shah 1 the Committee be com-
posed of."
" Both sexes must be represented. Three men and three
women," said the belligerent gentleman, suddenly, half rising
from his seat.
In a short time the members of the Committee were appoint-
ed, and, there being no further business on hand, Mr. Merry-
field said : " I have now the pleasure, as it were, of introducing
to the audience the noble advocate of Women's Rights, Isaiah
Bemis. who whose name is is well known to you all as the
champion of his I mean, her persecuted sex." Mr. Merry-
field was so disconcerted by the half-suppressed laughter which
followed this blunder, that the termination of his eulogium bfr
ame still more confused " The name of Isaiah Bemis," h
88 HATSTNAH
said, "does not need my condera commendation. When
Woman shall fill her true spere, it will shine will be written
among the martyrs of Reform, as it were, for Truth, crushed
to Earth, rises up in spite of of though the heavens fall !"
Mr. Bemis, who was no other than the gentleman of bel-
ligerent aspect, already mentioned, at once arose, bowing
gravely in answer to a slight, hesitating, uncertain sound of
applause. The Ptolemy public had not listened for years to
speakers of all kinds, and on all subjects, without acquiring
some degree of critical perception. They both enjoyed and
prided themselves on their acumen, and a new man, whatever
his doctrines might be, was sure that he would find a full
house to receive him. If he possessed either eloquence or
humor, in any appreciable degree, he had no reason to com-
plain of his reception. The class of hearers to which we refer
did not consider themselves committed to the speaker's views
by their manifestations of applause. Off the platform, there
were not twenty advocates of Women's Rights in the whole
audience, yet all were ready to hear M Bemis, and to approve
a good thing, if he should happen to say it.
A few minutes, however, satisfied them that he was not the
kind of speaker they coveted. He took for his text that maxim
of the Declaration of Independence, that " all governments de-
rive their just powers from the consent of the governed," first
proved the absolute justice of the theory, and then exhibited
the flagrant violation of it in the case of woman. She is
equally obliged, with man, to submit to the laws, he said, but
has no voice in making them ; even those laws which control
her property, her earnings, her children, her person itself, are
enacted without consultation with her. She not only loses hei
name, but her individual privileges are curtailed, as if she be-
longed to an inferior order of beings. The character of his
harangue was aggressive throughout. He referred as little
as possible, to any inherent difference in the destiies of sex ;
men and women were simply human beings, and in Society, and
Law, and Government, there should be no distinction mad*
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFJt. 60
between them. There was a certain specious display of logic
in his address ; the faulty links were glozed over, so that his
chain of argument appeared sound and strong, from end to
end. Granting his premises, indeed, which he assumed with
an air, as if they were beyond dispute all the rest readily fol-
lowed. Those who believed with him, not perceiving the de-
fect in his basis, were charmed with the force and clearness of
hie* views.
A crowd feels, not reasons, and the auditors, after an hour
of this talk, began to manifest signs of weariness. Even
Woodbary, to whom the whole scene was a study or, rather,
a show only kept his place from a desire to hear the famous
Bessie Stryker.
Mr. Bemis at last sat down, and some further whispering
ensued. There was a slight hitch in the proceedings, it was
evident. In a few minutes, Mr. Merryfield again arose. " My
friends," said he ; "I regret to be able to state that we are
disappointed, as it were, in listening in the arrival of Bessie
Stryker. We expected her in the afternoon stage coming from
Cephaloni-*, and was to have lectured there last night, but ha?
arrived without her. But I hope, nevertheless, that you will
that it will be agreeable to you, as it were, to hear a few
words from our friend, Hannah Thurston, who requires whom
you know already."
Hearty signs of approbation greeted this announcement.
Thus appealed to, Hannah Thurston, who at first made a move-
ment of hesitation, rose, quietly removed her bonnet, and
walked forward to the table. Her face seemed a little paler
than usual, but her step was firm, and the hand which she
placed upon the table did not tremble. After a pause, as if
to collect and isolate her mind from external impressions, she
commenced speaking, in a voice so low that only its silver
purity of tone enabled her to be heard. Yet the slight tremu-
lousness it betrayed indicated no faltering of courage ; it was
imply a vibration of nerves rather tensely strung.
"J will not repeat," she began, "the arguments by which
70 HAKNAH THFBSTON :
the eloquent speaker has illustrated the wrongs endured bj
woman, under all governments and all systems of law, whethei
despotic or republican. These are considerations which lie
further from us; we are most concerned for those injuriei
which require an immediate remedy. When we have removed
die social prejudices which keep our sex in a false position
when we have destroyed the faith of the people in the tyran-
nical traditions by which we are ruled the chains of the law
will break of themselves. As a beginning to that end, womau
must claim an equal right to education, to employment, and re-
ward. These are the first steps in our reform, to reach the
sources of those evils which cause our greatest suffering. We
can endure a little longer, to be deprived of the permission to
vote and to rule, because the denial is chiefly an assault upon
our intelligence ; but we need now at once and, my friends,
I am pleading for millions who cannot speak for themselves
we need an equal privilege with'man, to work and to be justly
paid. The distinction which is made, to our prejudice, renders
us weak and helpless, compared with our brethren, to whom
all fields are open, and who may claim the compensation which
is justified by their labor, without incurring ridicule or con-
tempt. They are even allowed to usurp branches which, if
the popular ideas of woman's weakness, and man's chivalry
towards her be true, should be left for us. Even admitting
that our sphere is limited that there are only a few things
which we may properly do is it generous, is it even just, that
man, who has the whole range of life to choose from, should
srowd us out from these few chances of earning our bread ?
Or to force us to perform the same labor for a smaller remti-
aeration, because we are women? Could we not measure t
yard of calico as rapidly, or choose a shade of zephyr as ccr-
rectly as the elegant young men who stand behind the coun'
ter? With our more sensitive physical organization, might
not all tasks requiring quickness, nicety of touch, and careful
arrangement, be safely confided to our hands ?"
At this point the audience, which had quite lost its air at
A STOET OF AMEKICAN LIFE. 71
weariness, broke into subdued but cordial applause. Hannah
Thurstou's voice, as she acquired possession of her subject, in-
creased in strength, but at no time appeared to rise above a
convei national tone. Her manner also, was simply converse
lional. The left hand slightly touched the table, as if she only
* ished to feel a support at hand, not use it ; while she now
and then, involuntarily, made a simple movement with the
right. The impression she produced was that of a woman
jompelled by some powerful necessity or duty to appear
before a public assembly, not of one who coveted and enjoyed
the position. Woodbury was profoundly interested in the
speaker, and in her words. Both were equally new to him.
11 What we now ask, therefore, my friends," she continued,
"is that the simple justice be meted out to us, which we feel
that man without adopting any of our views concerning the
true position of woman is bound to give. We ask that his
boasted chivalry be put into practice, not merely in escorting
us to concerts, or giving us his seat in a railroad-car, or serv-
ing us first at the table or in all other ways by which the
reputation of chivalry and gallantry towards our sex is earned
at little cost ; but in leaving open to us those places which he
confesses we are fitted to fill in paying us, as teachers, clerks,
tailors, or operatives, the same wages for the same woik which
men do!"
Tnis was so simply and fairly stated, that the audience again
heartily approved. There was nothing, in fact, of the peculiar
doctrines of Women's Rights in what she said nothing to
which they could not have individually assented, without com-
promising their position in regard to the main point. Mr.
Bemis, however, drew down his heavy brows, and whispered
to the chairman : " Very good, so far as it goes, but timidly
Hated. We must strike the evil at its root."
After dwelling for some time on this aspect of the question,
and illustrating it by a number of examples, Hannah Thurstou
went a step further.
"But we deny," she said, "that Man has any natural righl
71 HANNAH THUBSTON:
to prescribe the bounds within which Woman may labor an?
live. God alone has that right, and His laws govern both
sexes with the same authority. Man has indeed assumed it,
because he disbelieves in the intellectual equality of women.
He has treated her as an older child, to whom a certain amount
of freedom might be allowed, but whom it was not safe to
release entirely from his guardianship. He has educated her
in this belief, through all the ages that have gone by since the
creation of the world. Now and then, women have arisen, it
is true, to vindicate the equal authority of their sex, and have
nobly won their places in history; but the growth of the truth
has been slow so slow, that to-day, in this enlightened ma-
turity of the world, we must plead and prove all that which
you should grant without our asking. It is humiliating that
a woman is obliged to collect evidence to convince men of her
equal intelligence. She, who is also included in the one word,
Man ! Placed side by side with him in Paradise Mother of
the Saviour who came to redeem his fallen race first and
holiests among the martyrs and saints ! Young men ! Think
of your own mothers, and spare us this humiliation !"
These words, uttered with startling earnestness, produced a
marked sensation in the audience. Perhaps it was a peculiarity
springing from her Quaker descent, that the speaker's voice
gradually assumed the character of a musical recitative, be-
coming a clear, tremulous chant, almost in monotone. This
gave it a sad, appealing expression, which touched the emo-
tional nature of the hearer, and clouded his judgment for the
time being. After a pause, she continued in her ordinary
tone:
" The pages of history do not prove the superiority of man.
When we consider the position which he has forced woman to
Dccupy, we should rather wonder that she has so often resist-
ed his authority, and won possession of the empire which he
had appropriated to himself. In the earliest ages he admitted
her capacity to govern, a power so high and important in its
nature, that we should be justified in claiming that it embrace!
A STOBY OF AMEKICAN UFB. 71
*n other capacities, and in resting our defence on that alone.
Such women as Semiramis and Zenobia, Margaret of Denmark,
and Elisabeth of England, Maria Theresa, and Catharine of
Russia, are not the least not second, even among great
rulers. Jael and Judith, and the Maid of Orleans stand no
less high among the deliverers of nations, than Leonidas and
W illiam Tell. The first poet who sang may have been Homer,
but the second was Sappho.* Even in the schools of Philoso-
phy, the ancients had their Hypatia, and the scholars of the
Middle Ages honored the learning of Olympia Morata. Men
claim the field of scientific research as being exclusively their
own ; but the names of Caroline Herschel in England, and
Maria Mitchell in America, prove that even here women can
not justly be excluded. Ah, my friends! when God calls a
human being to be the discoverer of His eternal laws, or the
illustrator of His eternal beauty, He does not stop to consider
the question of sex ! If you grant human intellect at all to
Woman, you must grant the possibility of inspiration, of gen-
ius, of a life divinely selected as the instrument of some great
and glorious work. Admitting this, you may safely throw
open to us all avenues to knowledge. Hampered as Woman
still is circumscribed in her spheres of action and thought
(for her false education permanently distorts her habits of
mind) she is yet, at present, fur above the Saxon bondmen
from whom the most of you are descended. You know that
she has risen thus far, not only without injury to herself, but
to your advantage : why check her progress, here? Nay, why
check it any where ? If Man's dominion be thereby limited,
would his head be less uneasy, if the crown he claims were
shared with another ? Is not a friend better than a servant ?
If Marriage were & partnership for Woman, instead of a clerk
thipj the Head of the House would feel his burthen so much
the lighter. If the physician's wife were competent to prepare
his medicines, or the merchant's to keep his books, or the law
* Miss Thurston makes these statements on her own responsibility.
4
74 HANNAH THFBSTON:
yer*8 to draw up a bond, the gain would be mutual. For Wo
man, to be a true helpmeet to Man, must know all that Man
knows ; and, even as she is co-heir with him of Heaven re-
ceiving, not the legal ' Third part,' but all of its infinite ble
sedness, so she should be co-proprietor of the Earth, equally
armed to subdue its iniquities, and prepare it for a bettet
future !"
With these words, Hannah Thurston closed her addresa
As she quietly walked back to her seat and resumed her bon
net, there was a stir of satisfaction among the audience, ter
minating in a round of applause, which, however, she did not
acknowledge in any way. Although, in no part of the dis-
course, had she touched the profounder aspects of the subject,
especially the moral distinctions of sex, she had given utter-
ance to many absolute truths, which were too intimately con
nected, in her mind, with the doctrine she had adopted, foi
her to perceive their real independence of it. Thus, most of
her hearers, while compelled to agree with her in many re-
spects, still felt themselves unconvinced in the main particular.
She was not aware of her own inability to discuss the question
freely, and ascribed to indifference or prejudice that reluc-
tance among men, which really sprang from their generous
consideration for her sex.
As for Woodbury, he had listened with an awakened in-
terest in her views,. which, for the time, drew his attention
from the speaker's personality. Her first appearance had
excited a singular feeling of compassion partly for the trial
which, he fancied, she must undergo, and partly for the
mental delusion which was its cause. It was some time be-
fore he was reassured by her calmness and self-possession..
At the close, he was surprised to discover in himself a lurking
sensation of regret that she had not spoken at greater length.
44 1 was wrong the other night," he -thought. " This woman
u in severe earnest, and would have been less offended if I
had plumply declined her challenge, instead of evading it. J
have yet something to learn from these people."
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFB. 78
The Committee of Six now made their report. Seth "Wat-
tles, who was one of the number, and had assumed to himself
the office of Chairman, read a string of Resolutions, setting
forth, That : Whereas, this is an Age of Progress, and no re-
form should be overlooked in the Great Battle for the Right
Therefore, Resolved That we recognize in this movement
for the Equal Rights of Woman a cause without the support
of which no other cause can be permanently successful : and,
Resolved, That we will in every way help forward the good
work, by the Dissemination of Light and Information, tending
to set forth the claims of Woman before the Community : also,
Resolved, That we will circulate petitions to the State Legis-
lature, for the investment of Woman with all civil and political
rights : and, lastly, Resolved, That, we will use our best en-
deavors to increase the circulation of T/ie Monthly Hollyhock^
a journal devoted to the cause of Women's Rights.
Mr. Merryfield arose and inquired : " Shall the Report of
the Committee be adopted ?" He fortunately checked himself
in time not to add : " as it were."
" I move its adoption !" " I second the motion !" were im-
mediately heard from the platform.
" All who are in favor of adopting the Resolutions we have
just heard read, will signify their assent by saying 'Aye !' "
A scattering, irregular fire of " Ayes" arose in reply. The
boys felt that their sanction would be out of place on this occa-
sion, with the exception of two or three, who hazarded their
voices, in the belief that they would not be remarked, in the
general vote. To their dismay, they launched themselves into
an interval of silence, and their shrill pipes drew all eyes to
their quarter of the house.
" Contrary,' No !' "
The opponents of the movement, considering that this was
Dot their meeting, refrained from voting.
" Before the meeting adjourns," said Mr. Merryfield, again
rising, " I must I take the liberty to hope, as it were, that
the truths we have heard this doy may spread may sink
76 HANKAH THTTRSTON:
deeply into our hearts. We expect to be able to announce,
before long, a visit from Bessie Stryker, whose failure whom
we have missed from among our eleg eloquent champions.
But we trust she is elsewhere, and our loss is their gain. I
thank the audience for your attendance attention, I should
say, and approbation of our glorious reform. As there is no
farther business before the meeting, and our friends from Mul
ligansville and Atauga City have some distance to return home,
we will now adjourn in time to reach their destination."
At this hint the audience rose, and began to crowd out the
narrow door-way and down the steep staircase. Woodbury,
pushed and hustled along with the rest, was amused at the
remarks of the crowd: "He? oh, he's a gassy old fellow!"
" Well, there's a good deal of truth in it !" " Bessie Stryker ?
Fd rather hear Hannah Thurston any day !" " He didn't half
like it !" " She has a better right to say such things than he
has !" and various other exclamations, the aggregate of which
led him to infer that the audience felt no particular interest in
the subject of Women's Rights, but had a kindly personal feel-
big towards Hannah Thurston.
1. STORY OF AMERICAN LIFB.
CHAPTER VL
IN WHICH LAKESIDE BECOMES LIVELY.
WINTER at last set in the steady winter of Central New
Fork, where the snow which falls at the beginning of Decem-
ber usually covers the ground until March. Ptolere^y, at least,
which lies upon the northern side of the watershed between
the Susquehanna and the rivers which flow into Lake Ontario,
has a much less variable winter temperature than the great
valley, lying some thirty miles to the southward. Atauga
Lake, in common with Cayuga and Seneca, never freezes,
except across the shallows at its southern end ; but its waters,
so piercingly cold that they seem to cut the skin like the blade
of a knife, have no power to soften the northern winds. The
bottoms between Ptolemy and the lake, and also, in fact, the
Eastern and Western Valleys, for some miles behind the vil-
lage, are open to the North ; and those sunny winter days
which, in more sheltered localities, breathe away the snow,
here barely succeed in softening it a little. On the hills it is
even too deep for pleasure. As soon as a highway has been
broken through the drifts, the heavy wood-sleds commence
running, and very soon wear it into a succession of abrupt
hollows, over which the light cutters go pitching like their
nautical namesakes in a chopping sea.
Woodbury, in obedience to a promise exacted by his sister,
went to New York for the holidays, and, as might have been
anticipated, became entangled in a succession of social engage-
ments, which detained him until the middle of January. He
soon grew tired of acting as escort to his two pretty, but (it
HANNAH THUR8TON I
mast be confessed, in strict confidence), shallow nieces, whoM
sole aesthetic taste was opera and in opera, especially Verdi
After a dozen nights of " darling Bosio," and " delightful Be-
neventano," and " all the rest of them," he would have been
glad to hear, as a change, even the "Taza be-taza" of the Hin-
doo nnutch-girls. A season of eastern rains and muddy streets
made the city insupportable, and greatly to the wonder of
his sister's family he declined an invitation to the grand
Fifth Avenue ball of Mrs. Luther Leathers, in order to return
to the wilderness of Ptolemy.
Taking the New York and Erie express-train to the town
of Miranda, he there chartered a two-horse cutter, with an
Irish attachment, and set out early the next morning. He
had never before approached Ptolemy from this side, and the
journey had all the charm of a new region. It was a crisp,
clear day, the blood of the horses was quickened by the frosty
air, and the cutter slid rapidly and noiselessly over the well-
beaten track. With a wolf-skin robe on his knees, Woodbury
sat in luxurious warmth, and experienced a rare delight in
breathing the keen, electric crystal of the atmosphere. It was
many years since he had felt such an exquisite vigor of life
within him such a nimble play of the aroused blood such
lightness of heart, and hope, and courage ! The snow-crystals
sparkled in the sunshine, and the pure shoulders of the hills
before him shone like silver against the naked blue of the sky.
He sang aloud, one after another, the long-forgotten songs,
until his moustache turned to ice and hung upon his mouth
like the hasp of a padlock.
Rising out of the Southern valleys, he sped along, over tbe
sold, rolling uplands of the watershed, and reached Mulligans-
nlle towards noon. Here the road turned westward, and a
further drive of three miles brought him to 'the brink of the
long descent to East Atauga Creek. At this point, a superb
winter landscape was unfolded before him. Ptolemy, with ita
spires, its one compactly-built, ambitious street, its scattered
houses and gardens, lay in the centre of the picture. On the
A. STOEY OF AMERICAN LIFE. f 9
white floor of the valley were drawn, with almost painfttl
eharpness and distinctness, the outlines of farm-houses, and
barns, fences, isolated trees, and the winding lifles of elm and
alder which marked the courses of the streams. Beyond the
mouth of the further valley rose the long, cultivated sweep of
the western hill, flecked with dull-purple patches of pine forest.
Koi th ward, across the white meadows and the fringe of trees
along Roaring Brook, rose the sunny knoll of Lakeside, shel-
tered by the dark woods behind, while further, stretching far
away between the steep shores, gleamed the bard, steel-blue
sheet of the lake. The air was so in tensely clear that the dis-
tance was indicated only by a difference in the hue of objects,
not by their diminished distinctness.
" By Jove ! this is glorious !" exclaimed Woodbury, scarcely
conscious that he spoke.
" Shure, an' it's a fine place, SUIT!" said the Irish driver, ap
propriating the exclamation.
Shortly after commencing the descent, a wreck was descried
ahead. A remnant of aristocracy or, at least, a fondness for
aristocratic privilege still lingers among our republican peo-
ple, and is manifested in its most offensive form, by the drivers
of heavy teams. No one ever knew a lime- wagon or a wood-
sled to give an inch of the road to a lighter vehicle. In this
case, a sled, on its way down, had forced an ascending cutter
to turn out into a deep drift, and in attempting to regain the
track both shafts of the latter had been snapped off. The sled
pursued its way, regardless of the ruin, and the occupants of
the cutter, a gentleman, and lady, were holding a consultation
Over their misfortune, when Woodbury came in sight of them,
&$ the gentleman leading his horse back into the drift to give
room, turned his face towards the approaching cutter, Wood-
bury recognized, projecting between ear-lappets of fur, the cu-
riously-planted nose, the insufficient lips, and the prominent
teeth, which belonged to the Rev. Mr. Waldo. The recogni-
tion was mutual.
" My dear, it is Mr. Woodbury !" the latter joyfully cried.
80 HANNAH THUESTON.
turning to the muffled lady. She instantly stood up in th
cutter, threw back her veil, and hailed the approaching deliverer:
" Help me, good Samaritan ! The Levite has wrecked me, and
the Priest has enough to do, to take care of himself !"
Woodbury stopped his team, sprang out, and took a survey
f the. case. "It is not to be mended," said he; "you must
crowd yourselves in with me, and we will drive on slowly, lead-
ing the norse."
" But I have to attend a funeral at Mulligansville the child
of one of our members," said Mr. Waldo, " and there is no
time to lose. My dear, you must go back with Mr. Wood-
bury. Perhaps he can take the harness and robes. I will
ride on to Van Horn's, where I can borrow a saddle."
This arrangement was soon carried into effect. Mr. Waldo
mounted the bare-backed steed, and went off up the hill, thump-
ing his heels against the animal's sides. The broken shafts
were placed in the cutter, which was left " to be called for,"
and Mrs. Waldo took her seat beside Woodbury. She had
set out to attend the funeral, as a duty enjoined by her hus-
band's office, and was not displeased to escape without damage
to her conscience.
" I'm glad you've got back, Mr. Woodbury," she said, as
they descended the hill. " We like to have our friends about
us, in the winter, and I assure you, you've been missed."
" It is pleasant to feel that I have already a place among
you," he answered. " What is the last piece of gossip ? Is
the Great Sewing-Union still in existence ?"
" Not quite on the old foundation. Our fair has been held
-by the bye, there I missed you. I fully depended on selling
you a quantity of articles. The Anti-Slavery Fair is over, too ;
but they are still working for the Jutnapore Mission, as there
is a chance of sending the articles direct to -Madras, before
long ; and so the most of us still attend, and either assist them
or take our own private sewing with us."
** Where do you next meet ?"
** Ah, that's our principal trouble. We have exhausted all
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 81
the available houses, besides going twice to Bue's and Wilkin-
son's. Our parsonage is so small a mere pigeon-house that
it's out of the question. I wish I had some of your empty
rooms at Lakeside. Now, there's an idea ! Capital ! Confess
that my weak feminine brain is good at resorts I"
" What is it ?" Woodbury asked.
" Can't you guess ? You shall entertain the Sewing-Union
one evening. We will meet at Lakeside : it is just the thing !"
" Are you serious, Mrs. Waldo ? I could not, of course, be
so ungracious as to refuse, provided there is no impropriety
in compliance. What would Ptolemy say to the plan ?"
" I'll take charge of that !" she cried. " Impropriety ! Are
you not a steady, respectable Member of Society, I should like
to know ? If there's any thing set down against you, we must
go to Calcutta to find it. And we are sure there are no trap-
doors at Lakeside, or walled-up skeletons, or Blue Beard cham
bers. Besides, this isn't Mulligan sville or Anacreon, and it is
not necessary to be so very straight-laced. Oh yes, it is the
very thing. As for the domestic preparations, count on my
help, if it is needed."
" I afn afraid," he replied, " that Mrs. Babb would resent
any interference with her authority. In fact," he added,
laughing, " I am not certain that it is safe to decide, without
first consulting her."
" There, now !" rejoined Mrs. Waldo. " Do you remember
what I once told you ? Yes, you bachelors, who boast of
your independence of woman, are the only real slaves to the
sex. No \vife is such a tyrant as a housekeeper. Not but
what Mrs. Babb is a very honest, conscientious, proper sort of
a person, but she don't make a home, Mr. Woodbury. You
should get married."
"That is easily said, Mrs. Waldo," he replied, with a laugh
which covered, like a luxuriant summer vine, the entrance tc
a sighing cavern, " easily said, and might be easily done, if
one were allowed to choose a wife for her domestic qualities
valued at so much per month."
4*
82 HANNAH THtJKSTOW:
"Pshaw!" said she, with assumed contempt. "You are
not a natural cynic, and have no right to be single, at yom
age, without a good reason."
" Perhaps there is a good reason, Mrs. Waldo. Few per
sons, I imagine, remain single from choice. I have lost the
susceptibility of my younger days, but not the ideal of a true
wedded life. I should not dare to take the only perfect
woman in the world, unless I could be lover as well as hus-
band. I sincerely wish my chances were better : but would
you have me choose one of the shallow, showy creatures 1
have just been visiting, or one of your strong-minded orators,
here in Ptolemy ?"
Mrs. Waldo understood both the earnest tone of the speaker,
and the veiled bitterness of his concluding words. She read
his heart at a glance, thorough woman as she was, and honored
him then, and forever thenceforth.
" You must not take my nonsense for more than it is worth,
Mr. Woodbury," she answered softly. " Women at my age,
when God denies them children, take to match-making, in the
h ope of fulfilling their mission by proxy. It is unselfish in us,
at least. But, bless me ! here we are, at the village. Remem-
ber, the Sewing-Union meets at Lakeside."
" As soon as the Autocrat Babb has spoken," said he, as he
handed her out at the Cimmerian Parsonage, " I will staid
word, and then the matter will rest entirely in your hands."
"Mine? Oh, I am a female General Jackson I take the
responsibility !" she cried, gayly, as the cutter drove away.
Woodbury, welcomed at the gate of Lakeside by the cheery
face of Bute Wilson, determined to broach the subject at one*
to the housekeeper. Mrs. Fortitude Babb was glad to se
him again, but no expression thereof manifested itself in her
countenance and words. Wiping her bony right-hand on her
apron she had been dusting the rooms, after sweeping she
took the one he offered, saying: "How's your health, Sir?"
and then added : " I s'pose you've had a mighty fine
rhile you was away ?"
A STORY OF AMEBICAN LIFE. 81
** Not so fine but that I'm glad to get home again," he
answered. The word " home" satisfied Mrs. Babb's sense of
justice. His sister, she was sure, was not the housekeeper
she herself was, and it was only right that he should see and
acknowledge the fact.
" I want your advice, Mrs. Babb," Woodbury continued.
fl The Sewing-Union propose to meet here, one evening.
They have gone the round of all the large houses in Ptolemy,
and there seems to be no other place left. Since I have
settled in Lakeside, I must be neighborly, you know. Could
we manage io entertain them ?"
" Well comin' so suddent, like, I don't hardly know what
to think. Things has been quiet here for a long time :" the
housekeeper grimly remarked, with a wheezy sigh.
" That is true," said Woodbury ; " and of course you must
have help."
" No !" she exclaimed, with energy, " I don't want no help
leastways only Melindy. The rooms must be put to rights
not but what they're as good as Mrs. Bue's any day ; and
there'll be supper for a matter o' twenty ; and cakes and
things. When is it to be ?"
" Next Friday, I presume ; but can you get along without
more assistance?"
" 'Taint every one that would do it," replied Mrs. Babb,
" There's sich a settin' to rights, afterwards. But I can't have
strange help mixin' in, and things goin' wrong, and me to have
the credit of it. Melindy's used to my ways, and there's not
many others that knows what housekeepin' is. Sich a. mess as
tome people makes of it !"
Secretly, Mrs. Babb was well pleased at the opportunity ot
publicly displaying her abilities, but it was not in her nature
to do any thing out of the regular course of her housekeeping,
without having it understood that she was making a great
sacrifice. She was not so unreasonable as to set herself up for
ail independent power, but she stoutly demanded and main-
tained the rights of a belligerent. This point having onc
84 HANNAH THUBSTON I
been conceded, however, she exhibited a wonderft^ energy b
making the necessary preparations.
Thanks to Mrs. Waldo, all Ptolemy soon knew of the ar
rangement, and, as the invitation was general, nearly every-
^ody decided to accept it. Few persons had visited Lakeside
ince Mrs. Dennison's funeral, and there was some curiosity
to know what changes had been made by the new owner.
Besides, the sleighing was superb, and the moon nearly full.
The ladies connected with the Sewing-Union were delighted
with the prospect, and even Hannah Thurston, finding that
her absence would be the only exception and might thus seem
intentional, was constrained to accompany them. She had
seen Woodbury but once since their rencontre at Merryfield's,
and his presence was both unpleasant and embarrassing to her.
But the Merryfields, who took a special pride in her abilities,
cherished the hope that she would yet convert him to the true
faith, and went to the trouble of driving to Ptolemy in order
to furnish her with a conveyance.
Early in the afternoon the guests began to arrive. Bute,
aided by his man Patrick, met them at the gate, and, after a
hearty greeting (for he knew everybody), took the horses and
cutters in charge. Woodbury, assuming the character of host
according to Ptolemaic ideas, appeared at the door, with Mrs.
Babb, rigid in black bombazine, three paces in his rear. The
latter received the ladies with frigid courtesy, conducted them
up-stairs to the best bedroom, and issued the command to
each of them, in turn: "lay off your Things!" Their
curiosity failed to detect any thing incomplete or unusual in
the appointments of the chamber. The furniture was of the
Dennison period, and Mrs. Fortitude had taken care that no
fault should be found with the toilet arrangements. Misa
Eliza Clancy had indeed whispered to Miss Ruhaney Good-
win : " AVell, I think they might have some lavender, or bay-
water, fcr us," but the latter immediately responded with
a warning " sh /" and drew from her work-bag a small
oiled silk package, which she unfolded, producing therefrom a
A SI OUT OF AMERICAN LIFE. 88
diminutive bit of sponge, saturated with a mild extract of
lemon verbena. " Here," she said, offering it to the othei
spinster, " I always take care to be pervided." __
The spacious parlor at Lakeside gradually filled with
vorkers for the Mission Fund. Mrs. Waldo was among the
)ariiest arrivals, and took command, by right of her undis-
puted social talent. She became absolute mistress for the
time, hav : ng, by skilful management, propitiated Mrs. Babb,
and fastened her in her true place, at the outset, by adaman-
tine chains of courtesy and assumed respect. She felt herself,
therefore, in her true element, and distributed her subjects
with such tact, picking up and giving into the right hands the
threads of conversation, perceiving and suppressing petty
jealousies in advance, and laughing away the awkwardness or
timidity of others, that Woodbury could not help saying to
himself: "What a queen of the salons this woman would
have made !" It was a matter of conscience with her, as he
perhaps did not know, that the occasion should be agreeable,
not only to the company, but also to the host. She was re-
sponsible for its occurrence, and she felt that its success would
open Lakeside to the use of Ptolemy society.
There was also little in the principal parlor to attract the
attention of the guests. The floor was still covered b*y the old
Brussels carpet, with its colossal bunches of flowers of impos-
sible color and form, the wonder of Ptolemy, when it wag
new. There were the same old-fashioned chairs, and deep
sofas with chintz covers : and the portraits of Mrs. Dennison,
and her son Henry, as a boy of twelve, with his hand upon the
heal of a Newfoundland dog, looked down from the walls,
We odbury had only added engravings of the Madonna di San
Sisto and the Transfiguration, neither of which was greatly ad-
mired by the visitors. Mrs. Hamilton Bue, pausing a moment
to inspect the former, said of the Holy Child : "Why, it looks
just like my little Addy, when she's got her clothes off!"
In the sitting-room were Landseer's " Challenge" and Arj
Scheffer's " Francesca da Rimini." Miss Ruhaney Goodwill
86 HANTSTAH THUBSTON :
turned suddenly away from the latter, with difficulty suppres-
sing an exclamation. "Did you ever?" said she to Miss Eliza
Clancy ; " it isn't right to have such pictures hung up."
" Hush 1" answered Miss Eliza, " it may be from Scripture.*'
Miss Ruhane) now contemplated the picture without hesita-
tion. It was a proof before lettering. " What can it be, then ?'
she asked.
"Well I shouldn't wonder if 'twas Jephthah and Lii
daughter. They both look so sorrowful."
The Rev. Lemuel Styles and his wife presently arrived.
They were both amiable, honest persons, who enjoyed their
importance in the community, without seeming to assume it.
The former was, perhaps, a little over-cautious lest he should
forget the strict line of conduct which had been prescribed for
him as a theological student. He felt that his duty properly
required him to investigate Mr. Woodbury's religious views,
before thus appearing to endorse them by his presence at
Lakeside ; but he had not courage to break the dignified re-
serve which the latter maintained, and was obliged to satisfy
bis conscience with the fact that Woodbury had twice at-
tended his church. Between Mr. Waldo and himself there
was now a very cordial relation. They had even cautiously
discussed the differences between them, and had in this way
learned, at least, to respect each other's sincerity.
The last of all the arrivals before tea was Mr. and Mi's. Mer-
ryfield, with Hannah Thurston. The latter came, as already
mentioned, with great reluctance. She would rather have
faced an unfriendly audience than the courteous and self-pos-
sessed host who came to the door to receive her. He op-
pressed her, not only with a sense of power, but of power
controlled and directed by some cool faculty in the brain,
Wflich she felt she did not possess. In herself, whatever of
intellectual force she recognized, was developed through the
excitement of her feelings and sympathies. His personality,
it seemed to her, was antagonistic to her own, and the knowl-
edge gave her a singular sense of pain. She was woman
A. STOKY OF AMERICAN LIFE. Vl
enough not to tolerate a difference of this kind without a
struggle.
"Thank you for coming, Miss Thurston," said Woodbury
as he frankly offered his haud. " I should not like any mem-
ber of the Union to slight my first attempt to entertain it I
am glad to welcome you to Lakeside."
Hannah Thurston lifted her eyes to his with an effort that
brought a fleeting flush to her face. But she met his gaze,
steadily. " We owe thanks to you, Mr. Woodbury," said she,
" that- Lakeside still belongs to our Ptolemy community. I
confess I should not like to see so pleasant a spot isolated, or
what the people of Ptolemy would consider much worse,'
she added, smiling " attached to Anacreon."
" Oh, no !" he answered, as he transferred her to the charge
of Mrs. Babb. " I have become a thorough Ptolemaic, or a
Ptolemystic, or whatever the proper term may be. I hurl defi-
ance across the hill to Anacreon, and I turn my back on the
south-east wind, when it blows from Mulligansville."
" Come, come ! We won't be satirized ;" said Mrs. Waldo,
who was passing through the hall. " Hannah, you are just in
time. There are five of the Mission Fund sitting together, and
I want their ranks broken. Mr. Woodbury, there will be no
more arrivals before tea ; give me your assistance."
" Who is the tyrant now ?" he asked.
"Woman, always, in one shape or other,'' she answered
leading the way into the parlor.
After the very substantial tea which Mrs. Babb had pre-
pared, and to which, it must be whispered, the guests did
ample justice, there was a pause in the labors of the Union.
The articles intended for the Jutnapore Mission were nearly
completed, in fact, and Mrs. Waldo's exertions had promoted
& genial flow of conversation, which did not require the aid of
the suggestive needle. The guests gathered in groups, chat-
ting at the windows, looking out on the gray, twilight land-
scape, or watching the approach of cutters from Ptolemy, a?
they emerged from the trees along Roaring Brook. Mr
88 HANNAH THTJRSTON:
Hamilton Bue and the Hon. Zeno Harder were the first to
make their appearance, not much in advance, however, of the
crowd of ambitious young gentlemen. Many of the latter were
personally unknown to Woodbury, but this was not the least
embarrassment to them. They gave him a rapid salutation,
ince it was not to be avoided, and hurried in to secure advan-
tageous positions among the ladies. Seth Wattles not only
came, to enjoy a hospitality based, as he had hinted, on the
"accursed opium traffic," but brought with him a stranger
from Ptolemy, a Mr. Grindle, somewhat known as a lecturer
on Temperance.
The rooms were soon filled and Woodbury was also obliged
to throw open his library, into which the elderly gentlemen
withdrew, with the exception of the Rev. Mr. Styles. Mr.
Waldo relished a good story, even if the point was somewhat
coarse, and the Hon. Zeno had an inexhaustible fund of such.
Mr. Bue, notwithstanding he felt bound to utter an occasional
mild protest, always managed to be on hand, and often, in his
great innocence, suggested the very thing which he so evi-
dently wished to avoid. If the conversation had been for some
time rather serious and heavy, he would say : " Well, Mr.
Harder, I am glad we shall have none of your wicked stories
to-night" a provocation to which the Hon. Zeno always re-
sponded by giving one.
Bute Wilson, after seeing that the horses were properly
attended to, washed his hands, brushed his hair carefully, and
put on his Sunday frock-coat. Miss Caroline Dilworth was
one of the company, but he had been contented with an occa-
sional glimpse of her through the window, until the arrival of
Seth Wattles. The care of the fires in the grates, the lamps,
and other arrangements of the evening, gave him sufficient
opportunity to mix with the company, and watch both his
sweetheart and his presumed rival, without appearing to do so.
" Darn that blue-gilled baboon !" he muttered to himself; " 1
believe his liver's whiter than the milt of a herrin'. au' if you'd
cut his yaller skin, he'd bleed whey 'stid o' blood."
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFB. &*
Seth Wattles, nevertheless, was really guiltless of any designs
on the heart of the little seamstress. Like Jherself, he was am-
bitious of high game, and, in the dreams of bis colossal con
ceit, looked forward with much confidence to the hour when
Hannah Thurston should take his name, or he hers : he waa
prepared for either contingency. To this end he assumed a
tender, languishing air, and talked of Love, and A Mission,
and The Duality of The Soul, in a manner which, in a more
cultivated society, would have rendered him intolerable. He
had a habit of placing his hand on the arm or shoulder of the
person with whom he was conversing, and there were in
Ptolemy women silly enough to be pleased by these tokens of
familiarity. Hannah Thurston, though entirely harmonizing
with him as a reformer, and therefore friendly and forbearing
in her intercourse, felt a natural repugnance towards him
which she could not understand. Indeed, the fact gave hei
some uneasiness. " He is ugly," she thought ; " and I am so
weak as to dislike ugliness it must be that :" which conclu-
sion, acting on her sensitive principle of justice, led her to
treat him sometimes with more than necessary kindness. Many
persons, the Merryfields included, actually fancied that there
was a growing attachment between them.
"Miss Carrie," whispered Bute, as he passed her in the hall,
" Do you like your lemonade sweet ? We're goin' to bring it
in directly, and I'll git Mother Forty to make a nice glass of
it, o' purpose for you."
" Thank you, Mr. Wilson : yes, if you please," answered the
soft, childish drawl and the beryl-tinted eyes, that sent a thou-
sand cork-screw tingles boring through and through him.
Bute privately put six lumps of sugar into one glass, which
he marked for recognition ; and then squeezed the last bittei
drops of a dozen lemons into another.
The lattei was for Seth Wattles.
90 HANK AH THUBSTOH:
CHAPTER VIL
WHAT HAPPENED DUEING THE EVENING.
WOODBUEY had prudently left the preparations for the re-
freshment of his numerous guests in the hands of Mrs. Babb,
who, aided by the sable Melinda, had produced an immense
supply of her most admired pastry. By borrowing freezers
from the confectioner in Ptolemy, and employing Patrick to do
the heavy churning, she had also succeeded in furnishing very
tolerable ices. The entertainment was considered to be and,
for country means, really was sumptuous. Nevertheless, the
housekeeper was profuse in her apologies, receiving the abun-
dant praises of her guests with outward grimness and secret
satisfaction.
" Try these crullers," she would say : " p'r'aps you'll find
'em better 'n the jumbles, though I'm afeard they a'n't hardly
done enough. But you'll have to put up with sich as there
is."
" Oh, Mrs. Babb !" exclaimed Mrs. Hamilton Bue, " don't
say that! Nobody bakes as nice as you do. I wish you'd
give me the receipt for the jumbles."
" You're welcome to it, if you like 'em, I'm sure. But it
depends on the seasonin', and I don't never know if they're
goin' to come out right."
" Mrs. Babb," said Woodbury, coming up at this moment,
" will you please get a bottle of Sherry. The gentlemen, I see,
have nothing but lemonade."
"1 toii Bute to git some for them as likes it."
"A-hm!" Mrs. Bue ejaculated, as the housekeeper de-
parted to look after the wine ; " I think, Mr. Woodbury, they
don't tako any thing more."
A STOBY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 91
"Let me give them a chance, Mrs. Bue. Ah, here cornea
Bute, with the glasses. Shall I have the pleasure ?" offering
her one of the two which he had taken.
" Oh, dear me, no not for any thing !" she exclaimed, look-
ing a little frightened.
" Mr. Bue," said Woodbury, turning around to that gentle
man, " as Mrs. Bue refuses to take a glass of wine with me
you must be her substitute."
" Thank you, I'd I'd rather not, this evening," said Mr.
Bue, growing red in the face.
There was an embarrassing pause. Woodbury, looking
around, perceived that Bute had already offered his tray to the
other gentlemen, and that none of the glasses upon it had been
taken. He was about to replace his own without drinking,
when the Hon. Zeno Harder said : " Allow me the pleasure,
Sir !" and helped himself. At the same moment the Rev. Mr.
Waldo, in obedience to a glance from his wife, followed his
example.
" I have not tasted wine for some years," said the latter,
" but I have no objection to its rational use. I have always
considered it sanctioned," he added, turning to Mr. Styles,
" by the Miracle of Caiia."
Mr. Styles slightly nodded, but said nothing.
" Your good health, Sir !" said the Hon. Zeno, as he emptied
his glass.
''Healthy somebody echoed, in a loud, contemptuous
whisper.
Woodbury bowed and drank. As he was replacing his
glass, Mr. Grindle, who had been waiting for the consumma-
tion of the iniquity, suddenly stepped forward. Mr. Grindle
was a thin, brown individual, with a long, twisted nose, and a
voice which acquired additional shrillness from the fact of its
appearing to proceed entirely from the said nose. He had oc-
casionally lectured in Ptolemy, and was known, by sight, at
least, to all the company. Woodbury, however, was quite
ignorant of the man and every thing concerning him.
2 HANNAH THURSTON:
"I am surprised," exclaimed Mr. Grindle, with his eyed
fixed on vacancy, " that a man who has any regard for hii
reputation will set such a pernicious example."
"To what do you refer?" asked Woodbury, uncertain
whether it was he who was addressed.
" To that /" replied the warning prophet, pointing to tht
empty wine-glass " the source of nine-tenths of all the sin
and suffering in the world !"
" I think you would have some difficulty in finding Sherry
enough to produce such a result, ' Woodbury answered
beginning to understand the man.
" Sherry, or Champagne, or Heidsick !" retorted Mr. Grin-
die, raising his voice : " it's all the same all different forms
of Rum, and different degrees of intemperance !"
Woodbury's brown eyes flashed a little, but he answered
coolly and sternly : " As you say, Sir, there are various forms
of intemperance, and I have too much respect for my guests
to allow that any of them should be exhibited here. Mrs.
Waldo," he continued, turning his back on the lecturer, and
suddenly changing his tone, " did you not propose that we
should have some music ?"
" I have both persuaded and commanded," she replied, " but
singers, I have found, are like a flock of sheep. They huddle
together and hesitate, until some one takes the lead, and then
they all follow, even if it's over your head. You must be
bell-wether, after all."
" Any thing for harmony," he answered, gayly. " Ah ! I
have it a good old song, with which none of our friends can
find fault."
And he sang, in his mellow voice, with an amused air, -which
Mrs. Waldo understood and heartily enjoyed : " Drink to me
only with thine eyes"
Mr. Grindle, however, turned to Seth Wattles and said ;
gneeringly : " It's easy enough to shirk an argument you can't
answer." A fortnight afterwards he exploited the incident in
a lecture which he gave before the Sons of Temperance, at
A STOST OF AMERICAN LIFE. 93
Ptolemy, Commencing with the cheap groggeries, he gradu-
ally rose in his attacks until he reached the men of wealth and
education. "There are some of these in our^ neighborhood,"
he said : " it is not necessary for me to mention nances- -men
whom perhaps we might excuse for learning the habit of rum-
drinking on foreign shores, where our blessed reform has not
^et penetrated, if they did not bring it here with them, to cor-
rupt and destroy our own citizens. Woe unto those men, say I!
Better that an ocean of fire had rolled between those distant
shores of delusion and debauchery and this redeemed land, so
that they could not have returned ! Better that they had pei % -
ished under the maddening influence of the bowl that stingeth
like an adder, before coming here to add fresh hecatombs to the
Jaws of the Monster!" Of course, everybody in Ptolemy
knew who was meant, and sympathizing friends soon carried
the report to Lakeside.
The unpleasant episode was soon forgotten, or, from a natural
sense of propriety, no longer commented upon. Even the
strongest advocates of Temperance present felt mortified by
Mr. Grindle's vulgarity. Hannah Thurston, among others,
was greatly pained, yet, for the first time, admired Wood-
bury's coolness and self-possession, in the relief which it gave
her. She wished for an opportunity to show him, by her man-
ner, a respect which might in some degree counterbalance the
recent rudeness, and such an opportunity soon occurred.
She was standing before the picture of Francesca da Rimini,
lost in the contemplation of the wonderful grace and pathos
of the floating figures, when Woodbury, approaching her, said:
" I am glad that you admire it, Miss Thurston. The pic-
ture is a great favorite with me."
" The subject is from Dante, is it not ?" she asked ; " that
figure is he, I think."
Woodbury was agreeably surprised at her perception, espe-
cially as she did not say "Dant" which he might possibly have
expected. He explained the engraving, and found that she
recollected the story, having read Gary's translation.
4 HANNAH THTJESTON:
" Since you are so fond of pictures, Miss Thurston," said
he, " let me show you another favorite of mine. Here, in the
library."
Taking a large portfolio from its rack, he opened it on th
table, under a swinging lamp. There were views of Indian
.scenery strange temples, rising amid plumy tufts of palm ;
elephants and tigers grappling in jungles of gigantic grass;
pillared banians, with gray-bearded fakirs sitting in the
shade, and long ghauts descending to the Ganges. The glimp-
ses she caught, as he turned the leaves, took away her breath
with sudden delight.
At last he found the plate he was seeking, and laid it be-
fore her. It was a tropical brake, a tangle of mimosa-trees,
with their feathery fronds and balls of golden down, among
which grew passion-flowers and other strange, luxuriant vines.
In the midst of the cool, odorous darkness, stood a young In-
dian girl of wonderful beauty, with languishing, almond-shaped
eyes, and some gorgeous unknown blossom drooping from
her night-black hair. Her only garment, of plaited grass or
rushes, was bound across the hips, leaving the lovely form bare
in its unconscious purity. One hand, listlessly hanging among
the mimosa leaves, which gradually folded up and bent away
where she touched them, seemed to seek the head of a doe,
thrust out from the foliage to meet it. At the bottom of the
picture a fawn forced its way through the tangled greenery.
The girl, in her dusky beauty, seemed a dryad of the sump-
tuous forest the child of summer, and perfume, and rank,
magnificent bloom.
" Oh, how beautiful !" exclaimed Hannah Thurston, at onoe
impressed by the sentiment of the picture : " It is like the scent
of the tube rose."
" Ah, you comprehend it !" exclaimed Woodbury, surprised
and pleased : " do you know the subject ?"
"Not at all, but it scarcely needs an explanation."
" Have you ever heard of Kalidasa, the Hindoo poet ?"
** I have not, I am sorry to say," she answered ; " I have
A STORY OF AMERICAN L1FB. M
sometimes found references to the old Sanscrit literature in
modern authors, but that is all I know about it."
" My own knowledge has been derived entirely from trans
lations," said he, " and I confess that this picture was the cause
of my acquaintance with Kalidasa. I never had patience to
read their interminable epics. Shall I tell you the story of
Sakontala, this lovely creature ?"
" Certainly, if you will be so kind : it must be beautiful."
Woodbury then gare her a brief outline of the drama, to
which she listened \vvth the greatest eagerness and delight.
At the close, he said :
" I am sorry I have not a copy of the translation to offei
you. But, if you vrouiu like to read another work by the
same poet, I think I havo the ' Megha-DutaJ or ' Cloud-Mes-
senger,' somewhere in my library. It is quite as beautiful a
poem, though not in the dramatic form. There are many cha-
racteristic allusions to Indian life, but none, I think, that you
could not understand."
" Thank you, Mr. Woodbury. It is not often that I am
able to make the acquaintance of a new author, and the pleas-
ure is all the greater. I know very little of literature outside
of the English language, and this seems like the discovery oi
a new world in the Past. India is so far-off and unreal."
" Not to me," he answered, with a smile. " We are crea
tures of habit to a greater extent than the most of us guess.
If you could now be transplanted to India, in less than five
years you would begin to imagine that you were born undei
the lotus-leaf, and that this life in Ptolemy had occurred onlj
in the dreams of a tropical noonday."
"Oh, no, no!" said she, with earnestness. "We cannot sc
orget the duties imposed upon us we cannot lose sight oi
nr share in the great work intrusted to our hands. Right,
aud Justice, and Conscience, are everywhere the same!"
" Certainly, as absolute principles. But our individual duties
vary with every change in our lives, and our individual actioL
is affected, in spite of ourselves., by the influences of the exter-
96 HAlTffAH TfiFBSTOJT t
nal world. Are you not to take the simplest evidence of thi
fact cheerful and hopeful on some days, desponding and
irresolute on others, without conscious reason ? And can you
not imagine moods of Nature which would permanently color
your own?"
Hannah Thurston felt that there was a germ of harsh, ma-
le rial truth in his words, beside which her aspirations lost
irmewhat of their glow. Again she was conscious of a pain-
ful, unwelcome sense of repulsion. " Is there no faith ?" she
asked herself; " are there no lofty human impulses, under this
ripe intelligence?" The soft, liquid lustre faded out of her
eyes, and the eager, animated expression of her face passed
away like the sunshine from a cloud, leaving it cold and gray.
Woodbury, seeing Miss Eliza Clancy, in company with
other ladies, entering the library, tied up the portfolio and
replaced it in its rack. Mrs. Waldo, pressing forward at the
same time, noticed upon the table a Chinese joss-stick, in its
lackered boat. She was not a woman to disguise or restrain
an ordinary curiosity.
" What in the world is this ?" she asked, taking the boat in
her hands. The other ladies clustered around, inspecting it
from all sides, but unable to guess its use.
" Now," said Woodbury, laughing, " I have half a mind to
torment you a little. You have all read the Arabian Nights ?
Well, this is an instrument of enchantment."
"Enchantment! Do the Indian jugglers use it?" asked
Mrs. Waldo.
" /use it," said he. " This rod, as it appears to be, is made
of a mysterious compound. It has been burned at one end,
you see. When lighted, it is employed to communicate fira
to another magical substance, through which the Past ia
recalled and the Future made clear."
Miss Clancy and the other spinsters opened their eyes wide,
in wonderment. "Provoking! Tell us now!" cried Mrs.
Waldo.
"It is just as I say," he answered. " See, when I light the
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 07
end thus it burns with a very, slow fire. This single piece
would burn for nearly a whole day."
" But what is the other magical substance ?-' she asked.
" Here is a specimen," said he, taking the lid from a circulai
box of carved bamboo, and disclosing to their view some cigara
The spinsters uttered a simultaneous exclamation. " Dread
ftil!" cried Mrs. Waldo, in affected horror. "Hannah, can
you imagine such depravity ?"
"I confess, it seems to me an unnatural taste," Hannah
Fhurston gravely answered ; " but I presume Mr. Woodbury
has some defence ready."
" Only this," said he, with an air between jest and earnest,
"that the habit is very agreeable, and, since it produces a
placid, equable tone of mind, highly favorable to reflection,
might almost be included in the list of moral agencies."
" Would it not be more satisfactory," she asked, " if you
could summon up the same condition of mind, from an earnest
desire to attain the Truth, without the help of narcotic drugs ?"
" Perhaps so," he replied ; " but we are all weak vessels, as
you know, Mrs. Waldo. I have never yet encountered such a
thing as perfect harmony in the relations between body and
mind. I doubt, even, if such harmony is possible, except at
transient intervals. For my part, my temper is so violent and
uncontrollable that the natural sedative qualities of my mind
are insufficient."
Mrs. Waldo laughed heartily at this assertion, and the
serious tone in which it was uttered. H*anah Thurston, to
Arhom every fancied violation of the laws of nature was more
91 less an enormity, scarcely knew whether to be shocked or
irunsed. She had determined to carefully guard herself against
committing such an indiscretion as Mr. Grindle, but it was
hard to be silent, when Duty demanded that she should bear
a stern testimony against evil habits.
" You should be charitable, ladies," Woodbury continued,
" towards some of our masculine habits, seeing that we do not
interfere with yours."
8 HANNAH TH HUSTON :
" Bless me ! what habits have we, I should like to know 1"
exclaimed Mrs. Waldo.
" A multitude : I don't know the half of them. Crochet-
work, and embroidery, and patterns, for instance. Tea is
milder than tobacco, I grant, but your systems are more senni-
live. Then, there are powders and perfumes ; eau de Cologne,
lavender, verbena, heliotrope, and what not against all of
which I have nothing to say, because their odors are nearly
jqual to that of a fine Havana cigar."
Miss Eliza Clancy and Miss Ruhaney Goodwin exchanged
glances of horror. They were both too much embarrassed to
reply.
" You understand our weaknesses," said Hannah Thurston,
with a smile in which there was some bitterness.
" I do not call them weaknesses," he answered. " I should
be glad if this feminine love of color and odor were more conv-
mon among men. But there are curious differences of taste,
in this respect. I have rarely experienced a more exquisite
delight than in riding through the rose-fields of Ghazeepore, at
the season for making attar : yet some persons cannot endure
the smell of a rose. Musk, which is a favorite perfume with
many, is to me disagreeable. There is, however, a physical
explanation for this habit of mine, which, perhaps, you do not
know."
" No," said she, still gravely, " I know nothing but that it
seems to me unnecessary, and if you will pardon me the
word pernicious."
u Certainly. It is so, in many cases. But some constitutions
possess an overplus of active nervous life, which suggests the
nse of a slight artificial sedative. The peculiar fascination of
smoking is not in the taste of the weed, but the sight of the
amoke. It is the ear of corn which we hold out to entice into
harness the skittish thoughts that are running loose. In the
Orient, men accomplish the same result by a rosary, the beads
of which they run through their fingers."
"Yesl" interrupted Mrs. Waldo: "My brother George,
A StORT OF AMERICAN LIFE. 09
irho was always at the Lead of his class, had a habit of twistr
ing a lock of his hair while he was getting his lessons. It
stuck out from the side of his head, like n horn. When
mother had his hair cut, he went down to the foot, and he
never got fairly up to head till the horn grew out again."
*' A case in point," said Woodbury. " Now, you, ladies,
have an exactly similar habit. Sewing, I have heard, is often-
timefe this soothing agent, but knitting is the great feminine
narcotic. In fact, women are more dependent on these slight
belps to thought these accompaniments to conversation
than men. There are few who can sit still and talk a whole
evening, without having their hands employed. Can you not
see some connecting link between our habits ?"
The spinsters were silent. The speaker had, in fact, rather
gone beyond their depth, with the exception of Mrs. Waldo,
whose sympathy with him was so hearty and genial that she
would have unhesitatingly accepted whatever sentiments he
might have chosen to declare. Hannah Thurston was not a
little perplexed. She scarcely knew whether he was entirely
sincere, yet his views were so novel and unexpected that she
did not feel prepared to answer them. Before this man's ap-
pearance in Ptolemy, her course had been chosen. She had
taken up, weighed, and decided for herself the questions of
life : a period of unpleasant doubt and hesitation had been
solved by the acceptance of (to her) great and important theo-
ries of reform. Was a new and more difficult field of doubt to
be opened now ? more difficult, because the distinctions of the
sexes, which had been almost bridged over in her intercourse
with reformers of kindred views, were suddenly separated by
a new gulf, wider than the old.
Woodbury, noticing something of this perplexity in her conn
tenance, continued in a lighter tone : " At least, Miss Thurs-
ton, I think you will agree with me that a physical habit,
tf you prefer to call it so, is not very important in comparison
with those vices of character which are equally common and
not so easy to eradicate. Is not the use of a ' narcotic drug 1
100 HAITOAH THTJRSTON:
less objectionable than the systematic habit of avarice, or envy,
or hypocrisy ?"
" Yes, indeed !" said Mrs. "Waldo, recollecting his generoun
donation to the Cimmerians, " and I, for one, will not prohibit
the tise of your magical ingredients."
" I cannot judge for you, Mr. Woodbury," said Hannah
Thurston, feeling that some response was expected ; " but hare
you no duty towards those who may be encouraged in the
name habit, to their certain injury, by your example ?"
"There, Miss Thurston, you touch a question rather too
vague to enter practically into one's life. After accepting, in
its fullest sense, the Christian obligation of duty towards our
fellow-men, there must be a certain latitude allowed for indi-
vidual tastes and likings. Else we should all be slaves to each
other's idiosyncrasies, and one perverted or abnormal trait
might suppress the healthy intellectual needs of an entire com-
munity. Must we cease to talk, for example, because there is
scarcely a wholesome truth which, offered in a certain way,
might not operate as poison to some peculiarly constituted
mind ? Would you cease to assert an earnest conviction from
the knowledge that there were persons unfitted to receive
it?"
"I do not think the analogy is quite correct," she answered,
after a moment's pause, "because you cannot escape the re-
cognition of a truth, when it has once found access to your
mind. A habit, which you can take up or leave off at will, is
a very different thing."
"Perhaps, then," said Woodbury, who perceived" by the
rising shade on Mrs. Waldo's smooth brow that it was time to
end the discussion, "I had best plead guilty, at once, to being
icmething of an Epicurean in my philosophy. I am still too
much of an Oriental to be indifferent to slight material com-
forts."
"In consideration of your hospitality," interposed Mrs.
Waldo, brightening up, " the Sewing Union will not judge
you very severely. Is it not so, Miss Clancy ?"
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 101
"Well really oh no, we are under obligations to Mr.
Woodbury ;" said the spinster, thus unexpectedly appealed to,
and scarcely knowing how to reply.
"Our community have reason to congratulate themselves,
Sir," here broke in the Hon. Zeno Harder, who had entered
the library in time to hear the last words.
Woodbury bowed dryly and turned away.
Soon afterwards, the sound of sleigh-bells in front of the
house announced the first departures. The company became
thinner by slow degrees, however, for the young gentlemen
and ladies had found the large parlor of Lakeside full of con-
venient nooks, which facilitated their habit of breaking into
litlle groups, and were having such agreeable conversation that
they would probably have remained until the small hours, but
for the admonitions of the older folks. Among the earliest to
leave were the Merryfields, taking with them Hannah Thurs-
ton and Miss Dil worth, greatly to Bute's regret. The latter,
unable to detect any signs of peculiar intimacy between Seth
Wattles and the little seamstress, became so undisguised in his
fondness for her society as to attract, at last, Mrs. Babb's at-
tention. The grim housekeeper had a vulture's beak for
scenting prey of this kind. While she assisted Mrs. Styles to
find her " Things," in the bedroom up-stairs, she steadfastly
kept one eye on the snowy front yard, down which the Merry-
field party were moving. Bute, as she anticipated, was hover-
ing around the last and smallest of the hooded and cloaked
females. He put out his arm two or three times, as if to
steady her steps. They had nearly reached the cutter, where
Patrick was holding the impatient horses, when she saw
another male figure hurry down the walk. There was a sud-
den tangle among the dim forms, and one of them, she noticedi
plunged full length into a bank of snow.
Mrs. Babb was so agitated by this tableau, that she sud-
denly threw up her hands, exclaiming : " Well, if that don't
beat all !"
Mrs. Styles, carefully mumed for the journey home, had just
109 TTAXNAH THURSTOtti
turned to say good-night to the housekeeper, and stood petrl
Bed, unable to guess whether the exclamation was one of ad
miration or reproach. She slightly started back before the
energy with which it was uttered.
" Well, to be sure, how I do forgit things !" said Mrs. Babb
doming to her senses. " But you know, Ma'am, when you're
aot used to havin' company for a while, y'r head gits bothered.
'Pears to me I haven't been so flustered for years. You're
sure, Ma'am, you're right "warm. I hope you won't take no
cold, goin' home."
The scene that transpired in front of the house was suffi
ciently amusing. Bute Wilson, as deputy -host, escorted Miss
Dilworth to the cutter, and was delighted that the slippery
path gave him at least one opportunity to catch her around the
waist. Hearing rapid footsteps behind him, he recognized
Seth Wattles hard upon his track, and, as the ungainly tailor
approached, jostled him so dexterously that he was tumbled
headlong into a pile of newly-shovelled snow.
" Ah 1 Who is it ? Is he hurt ?" exclaimed Miss Dilworth.
A smothered sound, very much resembling " Damn !" came
from the fallen individual.
" Let me help you up," said Bute ; " you pitched ag'in me
like an ox. Why, Seth, is it you? You ha'n't tore your
trowsus, nor nothin', have you ?"
Seth, overwhelmed before the very eyes of Hannah Thurg-
ton, whom he was hastening to assist into the cutter, grum-
bled : " No, I'm not hurt." Meantime, Bute had said good-
night to the party, and the cutter dashed away.
" Well, it's one comfort that you can always mend your own
rips," the latter remarked, consolingly.
Finally, the last team departed, and the sound of the bell
diminished into a faint, fairy sweetness, as if struck by th
frosty arrows of the starlight from the crystals of the snow.
Lakeside returned to more than its wonted silence and seclu-
sion. Woodbury closed the door, walked into his library,
lighted a cigar at the still burning piece of joss-stick, and
A STOEY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 108
threw himself into a chair before the fire. Now and then
puffing & delicate, expanding ring of smoke from his lips, he
watched it gradually break and dissolve, while reviewing, in
his thoughts, the occurrences of the evening. They were not
wholly agreeable, yet the least so Mr. Grindle's rude attack,*
<vas not to be dismissed from the mind like an ordinary piec
yf vulgarity. It was a type, he thought, of the manners which
self-constituted teachers of morality must necessarily assume
in a community where intellect is characterized by activity
rather than development. Society, in its broader sense, is tin
known to these people, was his reflection. In the absence of
cultivation, they are ruled by popular ideas: Reforms are
mai shalled in, as reserve corps, behind the ranks of Religion,
and not even the white flag of a neutral is recognized in the
grand crusade. "Join us and establish your respectability,
or resist us and be cut down !" is the cry.
" Yet" he mused further " is it not something that, in a
remote place like this, Ideas have vitality and power? Ad-
mitting that the channels in which they move are contracted,
and often lead in false directions, must they not rest on abasr
of honest, unselfish aspiration ? The vices which spring froib
intolerance and vulgar egotism are not to be lightly pardoned,
but, on the other hand, they do not corrupt and demoralize like
those of the body. One must respect the source, while resist-
ing the manifestation. How much in earnest that Quaker girl
seemed ! It was quite a serious lecture she gave me, about
such a trifle as this" (puffing an immense blue ring into the
air). " But it was worth taking it, to see how she enjoyed
the Sakontala. She certainly possesses taste, and no doub*
thinks bet ter than she talks. By the by, I quite forgot to
give her the translation of the Jfegha-Duta"
Springing up, Woodbury found the volume, after some
search, and soon became absorbed, for the second time, in its
pages.
" Bute," said Mrs. Babb, as she wiped the dishes, and care-
fully put away the odds and ends of the refreshments ; " 'Peari
104 HANNAH THUKSTON :
to me you was gallivantin' round that Carrline Dilwuth, more
than's proper."
Bute, standing with legs spread out and back to the fire,
answered, as he turned around to face it, whereby, if h
blushed, the evidence was covered by the glow of the flame:
" Well, she's a gay little creetur, and 'taint no harm."
" I dunno about that," sharply rejoined the housekeeper.
" She's a cunnin', conceited chit, and '11 lead you by the nose.
You're just fool enough to be captivated by a piece o' wax-
work and curls. It makes me sick to look at 'em. Gals used
to comb their hair when I was young. I don't want no sich
a thing as she is, to dance at my buryin'."
" Oh, Mother Forty, don't you go off about it !" said Bute,
deprecatingly. " I ain't married to her, nor likely to be."
" Married ! I guess not ! Time enough for that when T'm
dead and gone. Me that brought you up, and to have some-
body put over my head, and spendin' all your earnins on fine
clothes, and then hankerin' after my money. But it's locked
up, safe and tight, I can tell you that."
" I'm man-grown, I reckon," said Bute, stung into resistance
by this attack, " and if I choose to git married, some day or
other, I don't see who can hinder me. It's what everybody
else does, and what you've done, yourself."
Bute strode off to bed, and the housekeeper, sitting down
before the fire, indulged in the rare luxury of shedding seve-
ral tears.
A 8TOBY OF AMERICAN LEFB. 108
CHAPTER VIH
Or WHICH ME. WOODBUBT PAYS AN UNEXPECTED VISIT.
ON the following Monday, Woodbury having occasion to
visit Ptolemy, took with him the volume of Kalidasa, intend-
ing to leave it at the cottage of" the widow Thurston. The
day was mild and sunny, and the appearance of the plank
sidewalk so inviting to the feet, that he sent Bute forward to
the Ptolemy House with the cutter, on alighting at the cot-
tage gate.
The door of the dwelling, opening to the north, was pro-
tected by a small outer vestibule, into which he stepped,
designing simply to leave the book, with his compliments, and
perhaps a visiting-card though the latter was not de riguewr
in Ptolemy. There was no bell-pull ; he knocked, gently at
first, and then loudly, but no one answered. Turning the knob
of the door he found it open, and entered a narrow little hall,
in which there was a staircase leading to the upper story, and
two doors on the left. Knocking again at the first of these,
an answer presently came from the further room, and the
summons, " Come in !" was repeated, in a clear though weak
yoice.
He no longer hesitated, but advanced into the sitting-room.
Fnend Thurston, sunning herself in her comfortable chair,
looked around. A fleeting expression of surprise passed over
her face, but the next moment she stretched out her hand,
Baying : " How does thee do ?"
" My name is Woodbury," said he, as he took it respectfully
K j
/;*
106 HANNAH TIIUBSTON:
" I thought it must be thee," she interrupted. " Hannah
described thy looks to me. Won't thoe sit down ?"
" I have only called to leave a book for your daughter, and
will not disturb you."
"Thee won't disturb me. I feel all the better for a liltle
lulu now and then, and would be glad if thee could sit and chat
awhile. Thee's just about the age my little Richard would
have been if he had lived. 5 '
Thus kindly invited, Woodbury took a seat. His eye ap
predated, at a glance, the plainness, the taste, and the cozy
comfort of the apartment, betraying in every detail, the touches
of a woman's hand. Friend Thurston's face attracted and
interested him. In spite of her years, it still bore the traces
of former beauty, and its settled calm of resignation recalled
to his mind the expression he remembered on that of Mrs.
Dennison. Her voice was unusually clear and sweet, and the
deliberate evenness of her enunciation, so different from the
sharp, irregular tones of the Ptolemy ladies, was most agree-
able to his ear.
"Hannah's gone out," she resumed ; " but I expect her back
presently. It's kind of thee to bring the book for her. Thee
bears no malice, I see, that she lectured thee a little. Thee
must get used to that, if thee sees much of our people. We
are called upon to bear testimony, in season and out of season,
and especially towards men of influence, like thee, whose re-
sponsibilities are the greater."
" I am afraid you over-estimate my influence," Woodbury
replied ; " but I am glad you do not suppose that I could
bear malice on account of a frank expression of opinion.
Every man has his responsibilities, I am aware, but our ideas
of duty sometimes differ."
"Thee's right there," said the old lady; "and peihaps we
ought not to ask more than that the truth be sought for, in a
Bincere spirit. I don't think, from thy face, that there is much
of stubborn worldly pride in thy nature, though thee belongi
to the world, as we Friends say."
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 107
* I have found that a knowledge of the world cures one of
unreasonable pride. The more I mingle with men, the more 1
find reflections of myself, which better enable me to estimate
my own character."
"If thee but keeps the heart pure, the Holy Spirit may
come to thee in the crowded places, even as The Saviour wai
caught up from the midst of His Disciples !" she czclaimed
with fervor. Gazing on her steady, earnest eyes, Woodbury
could not help thinking to himself: "The daughter cornea
legitimately by her traits."
" Can thee accustom thyself to such a quiet life as thee leads
now ?" she asked ; and then gazing at him, continued, as if
speaking to herself: " It is not a restless face. Ah, but that is
not always a sign of a quiet heart. There are mysteries hi
man, past finding out, or only discovered when it is too late !"
" This life is not at all quiet," he answered, " compared with
that which I have led for the past ten or twelve years. In a
foreign country, and especially within the tropics, the novelty
of the surroundings soon wears ofi^ and one day is so exactly
the repetition of another, that we almost lose our count of
time. It seems to me, now, as if I were just awaking out of a
long sleep. I have certainly thought more, and felt more, in
these three months than in as many years abroad ; for I had
come to believe that the world was standing still, while now I
see that it really moves, and I must move with it."
" I like to hear thee say that !" exclaimed the widow, turn-
ing suddenly towards him, with a bright, friendly interest in
her face. " Men are so apt to be satisfied with their own opin-
ions at least, when they've reached thy age. Thee's over
thirty, I should think ?"
" Thirty six," Woodbury respectfully answered, " but I hop*
I shall never be so old as to suppose, like the counsellors of
Job, that wisdom will die with me."
Tae widow understood his allusion, in the literal sense
which Le intended : not so another auditor. Hannah Thurs-
ton, who heard the last words as she entered the room, at one*
JOS HANNAH
suspected a bidden sarcasm, aimed principally at herself. Th
indirect attacks to which she had been subjected, especially
from persons of her own sex, had made her sensitive and sus
picious. Her surprise at Woodbury's presence vanished in the
spirit of angry antagonism which suddenly arose within her
She took the hand he frankly offered, with a mechanical col J
ness strangely at variance with her flushed cheeks and earnest
eyes.
" I'm glad thee's come, Hannah," said the old lady. " Friend
Woodbury has been kind enough to bring thee a book, and
I've been using an old woman's privilege, to make his acquain-
tance. He'll not take it amiss, I'm sure !"
Woodbury replied with a frank smile, which he knew she
would understand. His manner towards the daughter, how-
ever, had a shade of formal deference. Something told him
that his visit was not altogether welcome to her. " I found
the translation of the MeghctrDuta, Miss Thurston," he said,
" and have called to leave it, on my way to the village. If it
interests you, I shall make search for whatever other frag-
ments of Indian literature I may have."
" I am very much obliged to you," she forced herself to say,
inwardly resolving, that, whether interesting or not, this was
the first and last book she would receive from the library of
Lakeside.
" It is really kind of thee," interposed the widow ; " Hannah
finds few books here in Ptolemy that she cares to read, and we
cannot afford to buy many. What was the work, Hannah,
thee spoke of the other night ?"
Thus appealed to, the daughter, after a moment's reluctance,
answered: "I was reading to mother Carlyle's Essay on
Goethe, and his reference to ' Wilhelm Meister' excited my
curiosity. I believe Carlyle himself translated 'it, and therefore
the translation must be nearly equal to the original."
" I read it some years ago, in Calcutta," said Woodbury,
"but I only retain the general impression which it left upon
my mind. It seemed to me, then, a singular medley of wift
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 100
dom and weakness, of the tenderest imagination and th
coarsest reality. But I have no copy, at present, by which to
test the correctness of that impression. I am not a very criti
i al reader, as you will soon discover, Miss Thurston. Do yon
like Carlyle ?"
" I like his knowledge, his earnestness, and his clear insight
into characters and events, though I cannot always adopt hia
conclusions. His thought, however, is strong and vital, and it
refreshes and stimulates at the same time. I am afraid he
spoils me for other authors."
" Is not that, in itself, an evidence of something false in his
manner ? That which is absolutely greatest or truest should
not weaken our delight in the lower forms of excellence. Pe-
culiarities of style, when not growing naturally out of the sub-
ject, seem to me like condiments, which disguise the natural
flavor of the dish and unfit the palate to enjoy it. Have you
ever put the thought, which Carlyle dresses in one of his
solemn, involved, oracular sentences, into the Quaker garb of
plain English ?"
" No," said Hannah Thurston, somewhat startled. " I con-
fess," she added, after a pause, "the idea of such an experi-
ment is not agreeable to me. I cannot coldly dissect an au-
thor whom I so heartily admire."
Woodbury smiled very, very slightly, but her quick eye
caught and retained his meaning. "Then I will not dissect
him for you," he said; "though I think you would find &
pleasure in the exercise of the critical faculty, to counter-
balance the loss of an indiscriminate admiration. I speak for
myself, however. I cannot be content until I ascertain the
real value of a man and his works, though a hundred pleasant
illusions are wrecked in the process. I am slow to acknowl
edge or worship greatness, since I have seen the stuff of which
many idols are composed. The nearer an author seems to re-
flect my own views, the more suspicious I am, at first, of his
influence upon me. A man who knows how to see, to think,
and to judge, though he may possess but an average intellect^
110 HANNAH THURSTON t
is able to get at all important truths himself, without taking
them at second-hand."
There was no assumption of superiority not the slightest
trace of intellectual arrogance in Woodbury's manner. He
spoke with the simple frankness of a man who was utterly un
conscious that he was dealing crushing blows on the mental
habits of his listener not seeming to recognize, even, that
they were different from his own. This calmness, so unlike
the heat and zeal with which other men were accustomed to
discuss questions with her, disconcerted and silenced Hannah
Thurston. He never singled out any single assertion of hers
as a subject of dispute, but left it to be quietly overwhelmed
in the general drift of his words. It was a species of mental
antagonism for which she was not prepared. To her mother,
who judged men more or less by that compound of snow and
fire who had been her husband, Woodbury's manner was ex-
ceedingly grateful. She perceived, as her daughter did not,
the different mental complexion of the sexes ; and moreover,
she now recognized, in him, a man with courage enough to
know the world without bitterness of heart.
"I thank thee," said she, as he rose to leave with an apology
for the length of his stay ; " I have enjoyed thy visit. Come
again, some time, if thee finds it pleasant to do so. I see thee
can take a friendly word in a friendly way, and thee may be
sure that I won't judge thy intentions wrongly, where I am
led to think differently."
" Thank you, Friend Thurston : it is only in differing, that
we learn. I hope to see you again." He took the widow'i
ttffered hand, bowed to Hannah, and left the room.
"Mother!" exclaimed the latter, as she heard the outer
loor close behind him, "why did thee ask him to come
again ?"
" Why, Hannah ! Thee surprises me. It is right to bear
testimony, but we are not required to carry it so far as that
Has thee heard any thing against his character?"
" No, mother : he is said to be upright and honorable, but I
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 1U
do not like to be obliged to him for kindnesses, when he,
no doubt, thinks my condemnation of his habits impertinent,
when, I know, he despises and sneers at my views !"
"Hannah," said the mother, gravely, "I think thee does him
injustice. He is not the man to despise thee, or any one who
thinks earnestly and labors faithfully, even in a cause he cannot
appreciate. We two women, living alone here, or only seeing
the men who are with us in sympathy, must not be too hasty
to judge. Is thee not, hi this way, committing the very fault
of which thee accuses him ?"
" Perhaps so," said Hannah: "I doubt whether I know what
16 true." She sank wearily into a chair. The volume Wood-
bury left behind, caught her eye. Taking it up, she turned
over the leaves listlessly, but soon succumbed to the tempta-
tion and read read until the fairy pictures of the Indian
moonlight grew around her, as the Cloud sailed on, over jun-
gle and pagoda, and the dance of maidens on the marble ter-
races.
Meanwhile, Woodbury having transacted his business and
Bute Wilson his, the two were making preparations to return
to Lakeside, when a plump figure, crossing the beaten snow-
track in front of the Ptolemy House, approached them. Even
before tne thick green veil was thrown back, Woodbury recog-
nized the fat hand which withdrew itself from a worn chinchil-
la muff, as the hand of Mrs. Waldo. Presently her round dark
eyes shone full upon him, and he heard what everybody in
Ptolemy liked to hear the subdued trumpet of her voice.
"Justin time to catch you!" she laughed. "How do you
do, Bute? Will you call at the parsonage, Mr. Woodbury?
No ? Then I must give you my message in the open street
Is anybody near ? You must know it's a secret." After hav-
ing said this in a loud tone, she lowered her voice : " Well, I
don't mind Bute knowing it : Bute is not a leaky pitcher, I'm
sure."
" I reckon Mr. Max knows that," said Arbutus, with a broad
laugh dancing in his blue eyes.
112 HANNAH THUESTON:
"What is it? Another fair for the Cimmerians? Or ii
Miss Eliza Clancy engaged to a missionary ?" asked Woodbury.
" Be silent, that you may hear. If it were not for my feet
getting cold, I \yould be a quarter of an hour telling you. But
I must hurry there's Mrs. Bue coming out of her yard, and
he scents a secret a mile off. Well it's to be at Merryficld's
on Saturday evening. You must be sure to come."
" What the Sewing Union ?"
" Bless me ! I forgot. No Dyce is to be there."
" Dyce ?"
" Yes. They don't want it to be generally known, as so many
would go out of mere curiosity. I must say, between us, that
is my only reason. Neither you nor I have any faith in it ; but
Mrs. Merryfield says she will be glad if you can come."
" First tell me who Dyce is, and what is to be done," said
Woodbury, not a little surprised. The expression thereof
was instantly transferred to Mrs. Waldo's face.
" Well to be sure, you're as ignorant as a foreigner. Bute
knows, I'll be bound. Tell him, Bute, on the way home.
Good-by ! How do you do, Mrs. Bue ? I was just telling
Mr. Woodbury that the vessel for Madras" and the remainder
of the sentence was lost in the noise of the departing bells.
" Dyce is what they call a Mejum," explained Bute, as they
dashed out on the Anacreon road : " Merryfields believe in it.
I was there once't when they made the dinner-table jump like
a wild colt Then there's sperut-raps, as they call 'em, but
it's not o' much account what they say. One of 'em spoke to
me, lettin' on to be my father. ' Arbutus,' says he (they spelt
it out), 'I'm in the third spere, along with Jane.' Ha! ha I
and my mother's name was Margaretta! But you'd better
see it for yourself, Mr. Max. Seein' 's believin', they say,
bat you won't believe more'n you've a mind to, after alL"
A BTOBY OP A.MEBIOAN LTFK. 113
CHAPTER IX.
SPraiTUAL AND OTHEB BAPPINGS.
UAD the invitation to a spiritual seance been given by any
one but Mrs. Waldo, Woodbury would probably have felt lit-
tle inclination to attend. The Merryfields alone, with their
ambitious sentiment and negative intellect, were beginning to
be tiresome acquaintances, now that the revival of old memo-
ries was exhausted ; but the warm heart and sound brain of
that one woman made any society tolerable. His thoughts re-
verted to Hannah Thurston : would she be there? Of course :
was his mental reply yet she certainly could not share in the
abominable delusion. Why not, after all ? Her quick, eager
intelligence, too proud and self-reliant to be restrained by tra-
ditional theories, too unbalanced, from the want of contact
with equal minds, too easily moved by the mere utterance
of attractive sentiment, was it not, rather, the soil in which
these delusions grew strong and dangerous? He would go
and see.
Nevertheless, he was conscious of a feeling of reluctance, al-
most of shame at his own curiosity, as he left Lakeside. The
night was overcast, with a raw, moaning wind hi the tree-tops,
and Bute was forced to drive slowly, feeling rather than seeing
the beaten tracks. This employment, with the necessary re-
marks to the old horse Dick, fully occupied his attention.
Finally, however, he broke silence with :
" I s'pose they'll have Absalom up to-night ?"
" What ! Do they go so far as that ? Can they really be
fieve it ?" Woodbury asked.
"They jest do. They want to b'lieve it, and it comes easy
J J 4 HAITNAH THTJRSTOW C
If brains was to be ground, between you and me, neither ol
'em would bring much grist to the mill. I don't wonder at
her so much, for she set a good deal of store by Absalom, and
't seems natural, you know, for women to have notions o' that
kind."
" Are there many persons in Ptolemy who believe in such
things?"
"Well I don't hardly think there be. Leastways, they
don't let on. There's Seth Wattles, o' course : he's fool enough
for any thing ; and I guess Lawyer Tanner. Ever sence Mr.
Styles preached ag'in 'em, it a'n't considered jist respectable.
Infidel-like, you know."
Woodbury laughed. "Well, Bute," said he, "we shall
hardly find Mr. Waldo there to-night, if that is the case."
" He'll be there, Mr. Max, if she is. She'll bring him clear,
no matter what folks says. Miss Waldo's a wife worth hav-
in' not but what he's got considerable grit, too. He's not
strong at revivals, but he's a good hand at holdin' together all
he gits."
As they drove up the lane to Merryfield's farm-house, all wag
dark and silent. The shutters were closed, and there was no
appearance of other visitors having arrived. At the noise of
the bells, however, the door opened, and the owner, after sum-
moning his hired man from the kitchen, to assist Bute in tak-
ing charge of the horse, waited until Woodbury approached,
in order to help him off with his overcoat. "They are all
here that are likely to come," he announced in a whisper.
James Merryfield was a man of fifty, or a little more, in
whom the desire to be a reformer had been excited long after
he had reached his maturity as a simple, unpretending farmer.
The fictitious character but imperfectly overlaid the natural
one, giving him an uncertain, hesitating air. .Indeed, with afi
his assertion and self-gratulation, he never could overcome
secret doubt of his ability to play the new part. But he wan
honest and sincerely conscientious, and a more prominent posi
tion than he would have assumed, of his own choice, waf
A. STOBT OF AMEBICAN LIFE. 115
forced upon him by his friends. He possessed a comfortable
property, and they were well aware of the advantage of being
represented by men with bases.
His frame had been soundly developed, not over-worn, by
labor in his own fields, yet he was awkward, almost shambling
in his movements. His head was usually held on the left side,
tn'i a straight line dropped from the centre of his brow would
not nearly have coincided with the axis of his nose. The large,
irregular mouth expressed both the honesty and the weakness
of the man. His voice, always nasal, rose into a shrill, decla-
matory monotone when he became excited a key which he
continually let drop, and again resumed, in disagreeable fluc-
tuations. Thus Woodbury, while heartily respecting his char-
acter, found much of his society tiresome.
His wife, Sarah, who was six or seven years younger, was
one of those women, who, without the power of thinking for
themselves, have, nevertheless, a singular faculty for accepting
the thoughts and conclusions of others. She was entirely de-
pendent on two or three chosen leaders in the various "Re-
forms," without the slightest suspicion of her mental serfdom.
Every ne\v phase of their opinions she appropriated, and
reproduced as triumphantly as if it had been an original dis-
covery. She had, in fact, no intellectual quality except a -tol-
erable fluency of speech. This, alone, gave her some consider-
ation in her special circle, and kept her hesitating husband in
the background. Both had been touched by the Hand of Pro-
gress, rather too late for their equilibrium. They had reached
the transition state, it is true, but were doomed never to pass
through it, and attain that repose which is as possible to shal-
low as to deep waters.
In person she was thin, but not tall, with a face expressive
of passive amiability, slightly relieved by dyspepsia. The pale,
anhealthy color of her skin, the dulness of her eyes, and the
lustreless hue of her thin, reddish-brown hair, hinted at a sys-
tem hopelessly disordered by dietetic experiments. Her chil-
dren had all died young, with the exception of Absalom, wh*
116 HANNAH THUBSTON:
had barely readied manhood, when the care of his health, M
Bute said, proved too great a burden to him.
Woodbury was ushered, not into the parlor^but into the
room ordinarily occupied by the family. A single candle wai
burning on the table, dimly lighting the apartment. Mrs,
Merrytield carne forward to receive her guest, followed by Mrs.
Waldo v who said, with unusual gravity : " You are in time
we were just about to commence."
Seated around the table were Hannah Thurston, Mr. Waldo,
Seth Wattles, Tanner, the lawyer, and a cadaverous stranger,
who could be no other than Mr. Dyce. A motion of his hand
dissuaded the company from rising, and they gravely bowed
to Woodbury without speaking. Mr. Dyce, after a rapid
glance at the new-comer, fixed his eyes upon the table. He
was a middle-aged man, broad-shouldered but spare, with long,
dark hair, sunken cheeks, and eyes in which smouldered some
powerful, uncanny magnetic force.
After Woodbury had taken his seat at the table, and Mr.
Merry field had closed the door, the medium spoke, in a low
but strong voice :
" Take away the candle."
It was placed upon a small stand, in a corner of the room.
" Shall I put it out ?" asked the host.
Mr. Dyce shook his head.
Presently a succession of sharp, crackling raps was heard, aa
if made on the under surface of the table. They wandered
about, now fainter, now stronger, for a few moments, and then
approached Mrs. Merryfield.
" It's Absalom !" she cried, the yearning of a mother's heart
overleaping the course of experiment. " What has he to say
to-night?"
" Will the spirit communicate through the alphabet ?" asked
the medium.
Three raps" Yes."
Lettered cards were laid upon the table, and the medium,
commencing at A, touched them in succession until a rap an
A STOBY OF AMERICAN LIFE. li
nounced the correct letter. This was written, and the procesi
repeated until the entire communication was obtained.
" / have been teaching my sisters. They are waiting for
me on the steps of the temple. Good-night, mother /" was
Absalom's message.
" How beautiful !" exclaimed Seth Wattles. " The temple
aaust mean the future life, and the steps are the successive
spheres. Will any spirit communicate with me ?"
The raps ceased. Mr. Dyce raised his head, looked around
with his glow-worm eyes, and asked : " Does any one desire
to speak with a relative or friend ? Does any one feel im-
pressed with the presence of a spirit ?" His glance rested on
Hannah Thurston.
" I would like to ask," said she, as the others remained si-
lent, " whether the person whose name is in my mind, has any
message for me."
After a pause, the medium shuddered, stretched out his
hands upon the table, with the fingers rigidly crooked, lifted
his head, and fixed his eyes on vacancy. His lips scarcely
seemed to move, but a faint, feminine voice came from his
throat.
"lam in a distant sphere" it said, " engaged in the labort
I began while on earth. I bear a new name, for the promise
of that which I once had is fulfilled"
Hannah Thurston said nothing. She seemed to be ponder-
ing the meaning of what she had heard. Mrs. Waldo turned
to Woodbury, with a face which so distinctly said to him,
without words : " It's awful 1" that he answered her, in a
similar way : " Don't be afraid !"
"Will you ask a question, Mr. Woodbury?" said the
host.
"I have no objection," he said, in a serious tone, ; 'to select
ft name, as Miss Thurston has done, and let the answer test
from what spirit it comes."
After a rapid glance at the speaker, the medium pushed
pencil and paper across the table, saying : " Write the name,
118 HANNAH THUESTOK:
fold the paper so that no one can see it, and hold it in yout
hand." He then placed one elbow on the table, and coveted
his face with his hand, the fingers slightly separated.
Woodbury wrote a king name, it seemed to be and
folded the paper as directed. Some wandering, uncertain
raps followed. Communication by means of the alphabet
was proposed to the spirit, without a response. After a
sufficient pause to denote refusal, the raps commenced
again.
Mr. Dyce shuddered several times, but no sound proceeded
from his mouth. Suddenly turning towards Woodbury with
set eyes, and pointing his finger, he exclaimed : " He is stand-
ing behind you !"
The others, startled, looked towards the point indicated, and
even Woodbury involuntarily turned his head.
" I see him," continued the medium " a dark man, not of
our race. He wears a splendid head-dress, and ornaments of
gold. His eyes are sad and his lips are closed : he is permit-
ted to show his presence, but not to speak to you. Now he
raises both hands to his forehead, and disappears."
" Who was it ?" asked Mrs. Waldo, eagerly.
Woodbury silently unfolded the paper, and handed it to her.
Even Mr. Dyce could not entirely conceal his curiosity to hear
the name.
" What is this !" said she. "I can scarcely read it: Bab-
Baboo Rugbutty Churn Chuckerbutty 1 It is certainly no
body's name!"
" It is the actual name of an acquaintance of mine, in Cal
cutta," Woodbury answered.
" A Hindoo !" exclaimed Mr. Dyce, with a triumphant air,
* that accounts for his inability to use the alphabet."
M I do not see why it should," rejoined Woodbury, '' unlesn
he has forgotten his English since I left India."
"He did speak English, then ?" several asked.
" Did, and still does, I presume. At least, he was not dead,
three months ago," he answered, so quietly and gravely thai
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 119
ttone of the company (except, perhaps, the medium) supposed
that a trick had been intended.
"Not dead!" some one exclaimed, in great amazement.
" Why did you summon him ?"
" Because I did not wish to evoke any friend or relative
whom I have lost, and I had a curiosity to ascertain whether
the sp ; rits of the living could be summoned, as well as those
*f the dead."
There was a blank silence for a few moments. Only Bute,
who had stolen into the room and taken" a quiet seat in one
corner, with his eyes wide open, gave an audible chuckle.
Mr. Dyce, who had concealed a malignant expression under
his hand, now lifted a serene face, and said, in a solemn voice :
"The living, as we call them, cannot usurp the powers and
privileges of those who have entered on the spiritual life. The
spirit, whose name was written, has either left the earth, or
that of another, unconsciously present in the gentleman's mind,
has presented itself."
The believers brightened up. How simple was the explana
tion ! The mere act of writing the name of one Hindoo had
recalled others to Mr. Woodbury's memory, and his thoughts
must have dwelt, en passant, probably without his being in
the least aware of it, so rapid is mental action, on some other
Hindoo friend, long since engaged in climbing the successive
spheres. In vain did he protest against having received even
a flying visit from the recollection of any such person. Seth
Wattles triumphantly asked: "Are you always aware of
every thing that passes through your mind ?"
Mrs Merryfield repeated a question she had heard the week
before : " Can you always pick up the links by which you pas
from one thought to another ?"
Her husband modestly thrust in a suggestion: "Perhaps
your friend Chuckerclrirn is now among the spirits, as it
were."
Mr. Dyce, who had been leaning forward, with his arms un
der the table, during these remarks, suddenly lifted his head,
120 HANNAH THTTRSTOV
exclaiming : " He has come back !" which produced a momen
tary silence. "Yes I cannot refuse you!" he added, as if
addressing the spirit, and then started violently from his seat,
twisting his left arm as if it had received a severe blow. He
drew up his coat-sleeve, which was broad and loose, then the
sleeve of his shirt, and displayed a sallow arm, upon the skin
of Avhich were some red marks, somewhat resembling the let-
ters "R. R." In a few moments, however, the marks faded
away.
" His initials ! Who can it be ?" said Seth.
"Rammohun Roy!" said Hannah Thurston, betrayed, as it
almost seemed, into a temporary belief in the reality of the
visitation.
"I assure you," Woodbury answered, "that nothing was
further from my thoughts than the name of Rammohun Roy,
a person whom I never saw. If I wished to be convinced
that these phenomena proceed from spirits, I should select some
one who could give me satisfactory evidence of his identity."
" The skeptical will not believe, though one came from
heaven to convince them," remarked the medium, in a hollov
tone.
There was an awkward silence.
" My friends, do not disturb the atmosphere !" cried Mr.
Merryfield ; " I hope we shall have further manifestations."
A loud rap on the table near him seemed to be intended as a
reply.
Mr. Dyce's hand, after a few nervous jerks, seized the pen-
cil, and wrote rapidly on a sheet of paper. After completing
the message and appending the signature to the bottom, he
heaved a deep sigh and fell back in his chair.
Mr. Merryfield eagerly grasped the paper. "Ah !" said he,
** it is my friend '" and read the following :
" Be ye not weak of vision to perceive the coming triumph
of Truth. Even though she creep like a tortoise hi the race,
nhile Error leaps like a hare, yet shall f he first reach t\f
A STORY OF AMERICAN tIFE. Ifcl
The light from the spirit-world is only beginning to dawn up-
on the night of Earth. When the sun shall rise, only the owh
Mid bats among men will be blind to its rays.' Then the per-
fect day of Liberty shall fill the sky^ and even the spheres of
tpirits be gladdened by reflections from the realm of mortal* t
"BENJAMIN LUNDY."
In spite of certain inaccuracies in the spelling of this mes-
sage, the reader's face brightened with satisfaction. " There !"
he exclaimed " there is a genuine test ! No one but the
spirit of Lundy, as it were, could have written those words."
" Why not ?" asked Woodbury.
" Why why the foot of Hercules sticks out !" said Mr.
Merryfield, falling, in his confusion, from the lofty strain.
" You never knowed the sainted Lundy, the purest and most
beautiful spirit of this age. Those are his very yes, he would
make the same expressions, as it were, if his voice could, if
be were still in the flesh."
Woodbury's eyes, mechanically, wandered to Mrs. Waldo
and Hannah Thurston. The former preserved a grave face,
but a smile, perceptible to him alone, lurked at the bottom of
her eyes. The latter, too earnest in all things to disguise the
expression of her most fleeting emotions, looked annoyed and
uneasy. Woodbury determined to take no further part in the
proceedings a mental conclusion which Mr. Dyce was suffi-
ciently clairvoyant to feel, and which relieved while it discon-
certed him.
Various other spirits announced their presence, but their
communications became somewhat incoherent, and the semi-
believers present were not strengthened by the evening's ex-
peiiments. Mr. Waldo, in answer to a mental question, re-
ceived the folio wing message:
" I will not say that my mind dwelt too strongly on the
tymbols by which Faith is expressed, for through symbols the
Truth was made clear to me. There are many patha^ but they
att have the $<tr/te ending"
122 HtNtfAl* TIIUBSTOtf:
" There can be no doubt of that. Are you not satisfied f "
asked Seth Wattles.
" Not quite. I had expected a different message from tho
spirit I selected," said Mr. Waldo.
" Was it not Beza Cimmer ?"
"No!" was the astonished reply: "I was thinking ot a
chool-mate and friend, who took passage for the West Indiei
in a vessel that was never heard of afterwards."
"We must not forget," said Mr. Dyce, "that our friends in
the spirit-world still retain their independence. You may send
for a neighbor to come and see you, and while you are waiting
for him, another may unexpectedly step in. It is just so in our
intercourse with spirits : we cannot control them. We cannot
say to one : 'come!' and to another: 'go!' We must abide
their pleasure, in faith and humility."
Mr. Waldo said nothing, and made no further attempt at
conversation with his lost school-mate. Seth Wattles summon-
ed, in succession, the spirits of Socrates, Touissant L'Ou\ er-
ture, and Mrs. Ilemans, but neither of them was inclined to
communicate with him.
After a while, some one remarked : " Will they not more
palpably manifest themselves?"
" We can try," said Mr. Dyce.
Mr. Merryfield thereupon took the solitary candle into an ad-
joining room. As the shutters were closed, the apartment was
thus left in complete darkness. The guests kept their seats
around the table, and it was specially enjoined upon them not
to move. At the end of a few minutes rustling noises were
heard, loud raps resounded on the table, which was several
times violently lifted and let down, and blows were dealt at
random by invisible hands. Those who were so fortunate as
to be struck, communicated the news in a ^yhisper to their
aeighbors. Presently, also, the little old-fashioned piano,
itanding on one side of the room, began to stir its rusty
keys. After a few discordant attempts at chords, a sin-
gle hand appeared to be endeavoring to play ''Days oj
( A 8TOEY OF AMERICAN LIFB. 12?
Absence" the untuned keys making the melody still more
dismal.
It was enough to set one's teeth on edge, but Mrs. Merry
field burst into tears. " Oh !" she cried, " it's Angelina her
elf J She was taking lessons, and had just got that far when
Bh^ died."
The sounds ceased, and light was restored to the room. Mr,
Dyce was leaning on the table, with his face in his hands. As
he lifted his head, a large dark stain appeared under his right
eye.
" Why, what has happened to you ?" cried Merryfield.
" Your eye is quite black 1"
. The medium, whose glance happened to fall upon his right
hand, closed it so suddenly that the gesture would have at-
tracted notice, if he had not skilfully merged it into one of his
convulsive shudders. A rapid flush came to his face, and pass-
ed away, leaving it yellower than before.
"The unfriendly spirits are unusually active to-night," he
finally answered : " They are perhaps encouraged by the pres-
ence of doubters or scoffers. I name no names. I received
several severe blows while the light was removed, and feel ex-
hausted by the struggles I have undergone. But it is noth-
ing. The spirit of Paracelsus will visit me to-night, and re-
move the traces of this attack. Had the atmosphere been
pure, it could not have occurred. But some who are here
present are yet incapable of receiving the Truth, and their
presence clouds the divine light through which the highest
manifestations are made."
Woodlmry was too much disgusted to answer. His eye fell
upor Bute, who sat in the corner, with his large hand cover-
ng Ins mouth, and his face scarlet.
'' I confess," said Mr. Waldo, turning to the medium, " that I
ani uot convinced of the spiritual character of these phenomena.
I do not profess to explain them, but neither can I explain
inucii that I see in Nature, daily ; and I do uot perceive the
necessity of referring them at once to supernatural causesi
124 HANNAH THUKSTON :
By such an assumption, the spiritual world is degraded in out
eyes, without, in ray opinion, any increase of positive truth,
even if the assumption were correct. A man who is really so
blind as to disbelieve in the future life, would not be converted
by any thing we have seen here to-night ; while for us, who be>
lieve, the phenomena are unnecessary."
" What I" exclaimed Mr. Dyce. " You do not appreciate
the divine utterances from the world of spirits! You do not
recognize the new and glorious Truths, the germs of a more
perfect Creed !"
"I would prefer," the parson mildly answered, "not to hear
the word ' divine' so applied. No : to be entirely frank, I see
nothing new, or even true, in comparison with the old, Eternal
Truth."
" But," interrupted Merryfield, desperately, seeing the bright
assent on Hannah Thurston's face ; " do you not believe in
Progress ? Have we, as it were, exhausted are we at the
end of truth ?"
" Most certainly I believe in the forward march of our race.
We are still children in wisdom, and have much to learn. But
let me ask, my friend, do you not believe that the future life is
an immeasurable advance upon this ?"
" Yes," said Merryfield.
"Then," Mr. Waldo continued, " why is it that the profess-
ed communications from great minds, such as Socrates, Luther
or the Apostles themselves, are below the expressions of even
average human intellect ?"
The believers stared at each other in dumb amazement.
The coolness with which the parson took hold of and trampled
upon their gems of superhuman wisdom, was like that of St
Boniface, when he laid the axe to the sacred Hessian oak.
His hearers, like the Druids on that occasion, were passive,
from the sheer impossibility of comprehending the sacrilege
Mr. Dyce shook his head and heaved a sigh of commiseration.
Seth Wattles clasped his hands, lifted his eyes, and muttered
in a hoarse voice: "The time will come." Mrs. Merryfield
A STOKY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 12A
was unable to recall any phrase that applied to the case, but
wiped her eyes for the tbird time since tbe mysterious peifoi
mance on the piano.
Mrs. Waldo, however, looked at ber husband with a smila
which said to him : " I knew you could silence them wheueve.
jou choose to show your strength." Then, rising, she added
aloud : " Now the atmosphere is certainly disturbed. Let us
eome back to our present existence, which, after all, is very
good, when one has health, friends, and a contented spirit."
Mr. Merryfield whispered to his wife, who disappeared in
the kitchen. " Don't go yet," be said to his guests, who
had risen from the table ; " we must warm you, before you
start."
" Is it possible ? whiskey-punch ?" asked Woodbury, aside,
of Mrs. Waldo.
" Hush ! The very suggestion of such a thing would ruin
you, if it were known," she replied.
At the end of a few minutes, Mrs. Merryfield reappeared,
followed by a negro girl, who bore several steaming plates on
n japanned tray. They proved to contain slices of mince-pie,
rechauffee, and rather palatable, although heavy, in the absence
of brandy. Mrs. Merryfield, during the day, had seriously
thought of entertaining her guests with coffee ; but as she was
thoroughly convinced of the deleterious nature of the bever-
age, she decided that it would be no less criminal to furnish it
O *
to others than if she drank it herself. Consequently they re-
ceived, instead, glasses of hot lemonade, which, by an associa-
tion of ideas, almost convinced Woodbury, in spite of himself,
hat he was suffering under an attack of influenza.
Mr. Dyce, who adroitly managed to keep the left side oi
his face towards the candle, ate his portion with great relish.
His spiritual office being ended for the day, he returned with
avidity to the things of this world, and entered into a defence
of animal food, addressed to Seth Wattles, who was inclined
lo be a Vegetarian. Indeed, the medium dropped hints unfa-
vorable to the Temperance reform, which would have shocked
126 HANNAH TUUKSTON '
some of his hearers, if he had not based them, like the most ol
his opinions, on spiritual communications.
As the guests were putting on their coats and cloaks hi the
hall, Woodbury overheard Mrs. Waldo, furtively saying to her
spouse : " I am so glad you spoke your mind."
" I must thank you, also, Mr. Waldo," said Hannah Thura-
ton. " One should not too willingly accept any thing so nevf
and strange. For the sake of the truth we already possess,
it is right to be cautious "
" And now it is my turn to thank you, Miss Thurston," re-
joined Woodbury, gayly, as they went out into the cool night-
air.
She understood him. For one instant her habitual antago-
nism asserted itself, but she conquered it by a strong effort.
The night hid her face, and her voice was even-toned and
sweet as ever, as she answered* "I am glad there is one point
on which we can agree."
" Oh, there are a great many, I assure yon," he exclaimed,
with a lightness which, she knew not why, struck her unpleas-
antly : " If we could take away from your surplus of earnest-
ness, to complete my lack of it, we should get on very well
togethei."
" Can one be too much in earnest ?" she asked.
" Decidedly. There are relative values in ethics, as in every
thing else. You would not pull a pink with the same serious
application of strength which you would use, to wind a bucket
out of a well. But Mrs. Waldo waits : good-night !"
He lifted her into the cutter, the horses started, and she was
off before she had fairly time to consider what he meant. But
the words were too singular to be forgotten.
Bute now made his appearance, and Woodbury took his seat
in the cutter beside him. Dick was another* horse when hii
head was pointed towards home, and the bells danced to a
lively measure as they passed up the valley in the face of the
wind. The rising moon struggled through clouds, and but two
or three stars were visible overhead. The night was weird
and sad, and in its presence the trials and the indulgencies of
daylight became indistinct dreams. Woodbury recalled, with
a feeling of intense repugnance, the occurrences of the even-
ing, " Better," he said to himself, " a home for the soul with-
in the volcanic rings of yonder barren moon, with no more than
the privacy it may command in this life, than to be placed on
the fairest star of the universe, and be held at the beck and
call of every mean mind that dares to juggle with sanc-
tities."
Plunged in these meditations, he did not at first notice the
short, half-suppressed spirts of laughter into which Bute occa
sionally broke. The latter, at last, unable to enjoy his fun
alone, said :
"When you looked at me, Mr. Max., I thought I'd ha'
bust. I never was so nigh givin' way in my life."
"What was it ?" asked Woodbury.
" Well, you musn't say nothin'. I done it."
"You!"
"Yes, ha ! ha ! But he's no idee who it was."
" Did you strike him in the face, Bute ?"
" Lord, no ! He done all the strikin' there was done to-night
I fixed it better 'n that. You see I suspicioned they'd git Ange-
lina's spirut to playin' on the pyanna, like th' other time I was
there. Thinks I, I've a notion how it's done, and if I'm right,
it's easy to show it. So, afore comin' into the settin'-room, I
jist went through the kitchen, and stood awhile on the hearth,
to warm my feet, like. I run one arm up the chimbley, when
nobody was lookiu', and rubbed my hand full o' soft sut.
Then I set in the corner, and held my arm behind me over the
back o' the cheer, till the candle was took out. Now's the
time, thinks I, and quick as wink I slips up to the pyanna i
knowed if they'd heerd me they'd think it was a spirut and
rubbed my sutty hand very quietly over the black keys. I
didn't dare to bear on, but, thinks I, some '11 come off, and he '11
be sure to git it on Ids hands. Do you see it, Mr. Max. ?
When the light come back, there he was, solemn enough, with
128 HAT^AH THtTRSTOJr:
a black eye, ha ! ha ! I couldn't git a sight of his hand,
though ; he shet his fist and kep' it under the table."
Woodbury at first laughed heartily, but his amusement sooo
gave place to indignation at the swindle. " Why did you not
expose the fellow ?" he asked Bute.
" Oh, what's the use! Them that believes wouldn't believi
any the less, if they'd seen him play the pyanna with their owr,
eyes. I've no notion o' runnin' my head into a hornet's nest,
and gittin' well stung, and no honey to show for my pains."
With which sage observation Bute drove up to the door of
Lakeside.
A STOEY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 129
CHAPTER X.
OS WHICH WE HEAR A DIVERTING STOBT.
THE winter wore away, slowly to the inhabitants of Ptol-
emy, rapidly and agreeably to the owner of Lakeside, who
drank life, activity, and cheerfulness from the steady cold.
Every day, while the snow lasted, his cutter was to be seen on
the roads. Dick proved entirely inadequate to his needs and
was turned over to Bute's use, while the fastest horse out of
Fairlamb's livery-stable in Ptolemy took his place. Wood
bury's drives extended not only to Anacreon and the neighbor-
ing village of Nero Corners a queer little place, stuck out of
sight in a hollow of the upland, but frequently as far as Tibe-
rius, which, being situated on a branch of the New York Cen-
tral, considered itself quite metropolitan. The inhabitants took
especial delight in its two principal streets, wherein the houses
were jammed together as compactly as possible, and huge
brick blocks, with cornices and window-caps of cast-iron, star-
ted up pompously between one-story buildings of wood, saying
to the country people, on market days : " Behold, a city !"
The farmers around Ptolemy, who believe that every man
born in a large town, and ignorant of either farming or some
mechanical employment, must necessarily be soft, weak, and
effeminate in his nature "spoiled," so far as true masculine
grit is concerned were not a little astonished at Woodbury'g
activity and powers of endurance. More than once some of
them had met him, sheeted with snow and driving in the teeth
of a furious north-eastern storm, yet singing merrily to himself
as if he liked it all ! It was noticed, too, that a vigorous red
was driving away the tan of Indian summers from his cheek*
6*
130 II ANN AH THDKSTON .
that a listless, iudifferent expression, which at first made them
say " he has sleepy eyes," had vanished from those organs, ae
if a veil had been withdrawn, leaving them clear and keen,
with a cheerful, wide-awake nature looking out. Thus,
although his habitual repose of manner remained, it no longer
impressed the people as something foreign and uncomfortable ;
and the general feeling towards him, in spite of the attacks of
Mr. Grindle and the insinuations of Seth Wattles, was respect-
ful and friendly. Bute, who was a confirmed favorite among
the people, would suffer no word to be said against his master,
and went so far as to take a respectable man by the throat, in
the oyster-cellar under the Ptolemy House, for speaking of
him as a " stuck-up aristocrat."
That part of a man's life which springs from his physical
temperament seemed, in Woodbury's case, to have stood still
during his sojourn abroad. After the tropical torpidity of his
system had been shaken off, he went back ten years in the
sudden refreshment of his sensations. The delicate cuticle of
youth, penetrated with the finer nerves which acknowledge
every touch of maturing existence as a pleasure, was partially
restored. The sadness engendered by hard experience, the
scorn which the encounter with human meanness and selfish-
ness left behind, the half contemptuous pity which the pride
of shallow brains provoked these were features of his nature,
which, impressed while it was yet plastic, were now too firmly
set to be erased ; but they were overlaid for the time by the
joyous rush of physical sensation. His manner lost that first
gravity which suggested itself even in his most relaxed and
playful moods ; he became gay, brilliant, and bantering, and
was the life of the circles in which he moved. As the owner
of Lakeside, all circles, of course, were open to him ; but he
soon discovered the most congenial society and selected it,
without regard to the distinctions which prevailed in Ptolemy.
As no standard of merely social value was recognized, the
little community was divided according to the wealth, or the
religious views of its members j whence arose those jealousiei
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 131
tod rivalries which the Great Sewing-Union had for a time
suppressed. Woodbury soon perceived this. fact, and deter-
mined, at the start, to preserve his social independence.
Neither of the circles could complain of being neglected, yet
neither could claim exclusive possession of him. He took tea
twice in one week with the Rev. Lemuel Styles, and the heart
of Miss Legrand, the clergyman's sister-in-law, began to be
agitated by a vague hope ; but, in a few days afterwards, he
accompanied the Misses Smith (Seventh-day Baptists) on a
sleighing party to Atauga City, and was seen, on the foUow
ing Sunday, to enter the Cimmerian church.
Between the Waldos and himself, a sincere friendship had
grown up. The parson and his wife possessed, in common
with Woodbury, a basis of healthy common sense, which, in
spite of the stubborn isolation of their sect, made them tole-
rant. They had no idea of turning life into a debating-school,
and could hear adverse opinions incidentally dropped, in the
course of conversation, without considering that each word
was thrown down as a gage of combat. Hence, Woodbury
found no pleasnnter house than theirs, in all his rounds, and the
frank way in which he occasionally claimed their scanty hospi-
tality was so much like that of a brother, that the parson de-
clared to his wife, it expressed his idea of Christian society. 1
am afraid I shall injure Mr. Waldo's" reputation, but I am
bound to state that Woodbury was the last man whom he
would have attempted to secure, as a proselyte.
One evening in March, after the winter had begun to melt
away on the long hill sweeping from the eastern valley around
to Lakeside, a little party accidentally assembled in Mrs.
Waldo's parlor. Since the proceeds of the Fair had enabled
her to cover its walls with a cheap green paper, and to substitute
a coarse carpet of the same color for the tattered thing which
she had transferred to her bed-room, the apartment was vastly
improved. The horse-hair sofa and chairs, it is true, had per-
formed a great deal of service, but they were able to do it ;
the sheet-iron stove gave out a comfortable warmth ; and the
l?2 TtA^tfAJI
one treasure of the parsonage, a melodeon, which did th
duty of an organ on Sundays, was in tolerable tune. Hannah
Thurston contributed a vase of grasses, exquisitely arranged,
which obliged Mrs. Waldo to buy a plaster bracket from an
itinerant Italian. She could ill afford to spare the half-dollar
which it cost and, indeed, most of the women in her
husband's congregation shook their heads and murmured:
" Vanity, vanity !" when they saw it but a little self-denial in
her housekeeping, which no one else than herself ever knew,
reconciled the deed to her conscience. Woodbury brought to
her from New York an engraving of Ary Scheffer's " Cl.ristus
Consolator," which not only gave her great delight, but was
of service in a way she did not suspect. It hung opposite to
the grasses, and thus thoroughly counterbalanced their pre-
sumed " vanity," in the eyes of Cimmerian visitors. Indeed,
they were not sure but a moral effect was intended, and this
uncertainty stopped the remarks which might otherwise have
spread far and wide.
The party in Mrs. Waldo's parlor was assembled by acci-
dent, we have said ; but not entirely so. Hannah Thurston
had been invited to tea by the hostess, and Woodbury by Mr.
Waldo, who had met him in the streets of Ptolemy. This
coincidence was unintentional, although not unwelcome to the
hosts, who, liking both their guests heartily, could not account
for the evident prejudice of the one and the indifference of
the other. Mrs. Waldo had long since given up, as insane,
her first hope of seeing the two drawn together by mutual
magnetism ; all she now desired was to establish an entente
cordiale, since the entente tfamour could never be. On this
occasion, the parties behaved towards each other with such
thorough courtesy and propriety, that, had Hannah Thurston
been any other woman, Mrs. Waldo would have suspected the
existence of an undying enmity. .
After tea Mr. and Mrs. Merryfield made their appearance.
They had come to Ptolemy to attend a lecture on Temperance
by Abirum Stokes, a noted orator of the cause, who, however,
A STORY OP AMERICAN LIFK. 133
foiled to arrive. Seth Wattles presently followed, apparentlj
by accident, but really by design. He had ascertained where
Hannah intended to pass the evening, from the widow Thurs-
ton's little seivant-maid, whom he waylaid as she was coming
out of the grocery-store, and did not scruple to thrust himself
upon the company. His self-complacency was a little dis-
turbed by the sight of Woodbury, whose discomfiture, during
the evening, he mentally resolved to accomplish.
His victim, however, was in an unusually cheerful mood, and
every arrow which the indignant Seth shot, though feathered
to the barb with insinuation, flew wide of the mark. Wood-
bury joined in denunciation of the opium traffic ; he trampled
on the vices of pride, hypocrisy, and selfishness ; he abhorred
intemperance, hated oppression, and glorified liberty. But he
continually brought the conversation back to its key-note of
playful humor, cordially seconded by Mrs. Waldo, whose only
fault, in the eyes of her reforming friends, was that she had
no taste for serious discussion. Seth, finally, having exhausted
his quiver, began to declaim against the corrupting influence
of cities.
" It is time that hackneyed superstition were given up," said
Woodbury. "Everybody repeats, after poor old Cowper,
' God made the country and man made the town ;' therefore,
one is divine, and the other the opposite. As if God had no
part in that human brain and those human affections, out of
which spring Art, and Discovery, and the varied fabric of
Society ! As if man had no part in making Nature attractive
and enjoyable to us !"
" Cities are created by the selfishness of man," cried Seth 5 i
little pompously.
"And farms, I suppose, are created entirely by bene^o
lence !" retorted Woodbury, laughing. " You Reformers
have the least cause to complain of cities. You got your
Temperance from Baltimore, and your Abolition from Bos-
ton."
"That proves nothing: there was one just man e^en ia
l4 HANNAH TUUKSTON :
Sodom !" exclaimed Seth, determined not to be put down
"But, of course, people who think fashion more important
than principle, will always admire a city life."
" Yes, it is Fashion," added Mrs. Merryfield, who was un-
usually dyspeptic that evening "it is Fashion that has im-
peded the cause of woman. Fashion is the fetters which
chains her down as the slave of man. How can she know her
rights, when she is educated, as a child, to believe that Dresi
is her Doom ?"
" If you were familiar with cities, Mrs. Merryfield," said
Woodbury, " you would find that they admit of the nearest
approach to social independence. Fashion is just as rigid in
Ptolemy as it is in New York ; among the Hottentots or Dig-
ger Indians, far more so. Not only that, but Fashion is
actually necessary to keep us from falling into chaos. Suppose
there were no such thing, and you and Mr. Merryfield lived in
tents, dressed in oriental costume, while Mr. Waldo preached
in feathers and war-paint, to Miss Thurston, in a complete suit
of steel armor, Mr. Wattles with Chinese pig-tail and fan, and
myself in bag- wig, powder, and ruffles !"
The hearty laughter Avhich followed this suggestion did not
silence Seth. " It is not a subject for frivolity," he exclaimed;
" you cannot deny that Fashion corrupts the heart and de-
stroys all the better impulses of human nature."
" I do deny it," replied Wooclbury, whose unusual patience
was nearly exhausted. " All sweeping, undiscriminating asser-
tions contain much that is both false and absurd, and yours is
no exception. The foundation of character lies deeper than
external customs. The honor of man, the virtue of woman,
the pure humanity of both, is not affected by the cut or colors
of their dress. If the race is so easily corrupted as one might
infer from your assertions, how can you ever expect to suc-
ceed with your plans of reform ?"
" I should not expect it," interposed Mrs. Merryfield, " if 1
had to depend ou the women that worships the Moloch o/
fashion. Why, if I was the noblest and wisest of my sex,
A STORT OF AMERICAN LIFE. 185
they'd turn up their noses at me, unless I lived in FifH
Avenue."
A sweet, serious smile, betraying that breath of dried roses
which greets us as we open some forgotten volume of the
past, stole over Woodbury's face. His voice, also, when
he spoke, betrayed the change. Some memory, suddenly
awakened, had banished the present controversy from his
mind.
" It is strange," said he, slowly, addressing Mrs. Waldo,
rather than the speaker, " how a new life, like mine in India,
can make one forget what has gone before it. In this mo-
ment, a curious episode of my youth suddenly comes back to
me, distinct as life, and I wonder how it could ever have been
forgotten. Shall I give you a story in place of an argument,
Mrs. Merryfield ? Perhaps it may answer for both. But if
you can't accept it in that light, you may have the last word."
" Pray tell us, by all means !" exclaimed Mrs. "Waldo.
Woodbury looked around. Hannah Thurston, meeting his
questioning glance, silently nodded. Seth was sullen and gave
no sign. Mrs. Merryfield answered, " Fd like to hear it, well
enough, I'm sure," whereto her husband added : " So would
I, as as it were." Thus encouraged, Woodbury began :
" It happened after my father's death, and before I left New
York for Calcutta. I was not quite twenty when he died, and
his bankruptcy left me penniless, just at the time of life when
such a condition is most painfully felt. In my case it waa
worse than usual, because so utterly unexpected, and my
education had in no way prepared me to meet it. Every thing
went : house, furniture, library, and even those domestic trifles
which are hardest to part with. A few souvenirs of int
mother were saved, and a friend of the family purchased and
gave to me my father's watch. My brother-in-law was unable
to help me, because he was greatly involved in the ruin. He
sent my sister and their children to live in a cheap New Jer-
sey village, while he undertook a journey to New Orleans, in
the hope of retrieving his position by a lucky stroke of
1 36 HANNAH THURSTON I
business. Thus, within a month after the funeral of mj
father, I found myself alone, poor, and homeless. It was iu
1837, and the great financial crash was just beginning to
thunder in men's ears. My father's friends were too much
concerned about their own interests to care especially foi
mine. It was no single case of misfortune : there were ex-
tmjik's equally hard, on all sides, very soon.
" Nevertheless, I was not suffered to become a vagabond.
A subordinate clerkship was procured for me, at a salary of
two hundred and fifty dollars a year I was ignorant of
business, for my father had intended that I should study Law,
after completing my collegiate course, and the character of
my mind was not well adapted for commercial life. The
salary, small as it was, fully equalled the value of my services,
and I should have made it suffice to meet my wants, if I had
received it punctually. But my employer so narrowly escaped
ruin during the crisis that he was often unable to pay me, or
my fellow-clerks, our monthly wages, and I, who had no little
hoard to draw upon, like the others, sometimes suffered the
most painful embarrassment. I have frequently, this winter,
heard the praises of a vegetable diet. I have some right to
give my opinion on the subject, as I tried the experiment for
two months at a time, und must say that it totally failed.
" I was too proud to borrow money, at such times, and was,
moreover, exceedingly sensitive lest my situation should become
known. The boarding-house, where I first made my home, be
came uncomfortable, because I was not always ready with my
money on Saturday morning. Besides, it was a cheap place, kept
by an old woman with two sentimental daughters, who wore
their hair in curls and always smelt of sassafras soap. There were
various reasons which you will understand, without my tellirg
you, why my residence there grew at last to be insufferable. 1
accidentally discovered that the owner of a corner grocery ji
the Bowery had a vacant room over his store, with a separate
entrance from the cross-street, and that he could supply me, at
a cheap rent, with the most necessary furniture. The bargair
A STOET OF AMERICAN LIFE. 157
was soon made. The room and furniture cost me a dollar a week,
and my food could be regulated according to my means. The
common eating-houses supplied me, now and then, with a meal,
but I oftenest bought my bread at the baker's, and filled my
pitcher from the hydrant in the back-yard. I was also so far
independent that I could choose my associates, and regulate
diy personal habits. I assure you that I never wasbed my
face with sassafras soap."
Mrs. Waldo laughed heartily at this declaration, and Mrs.
Merryfield innocently exclaimed: "Why, I'm sure it's very
good for the skin."
"Meanwhile," Woodbury continued, "I still kept up inter-
course with the circle in which my father moved, and which,
at that time, would have been called ' fashionable.' Some
families, it is true, felt a restraint towards me which I was too
sensitive not to discover. The daughters had evidently been
warned against too great a display of sympathy. On the other
hand, I made new and delightful acquaintances, of equal social
standing, by whom I was treated with a delicacy and a gener-
ous consideration which I shall never forget. In fact, what-
ever Christian respect I may exhibit, in my intercourse with
others, I learned from those families. You may know what
they were, Mr. Waldo, by imagining how you would treat me,
now, if I should suddenly lose my property.
" I had been living in this manner for a year, or thereabouts,
when the main incident of my story occurred. In the circle
where I was most intimate, there were two or three wealthy
bachelors, who had handsome residences in the neighborhood
of Bleecker street (there was no Fifth Avenue then). These
gentlemen had, in turn, given entertainments luring the win-
ter, and had taken such pains to make them agreeable to the
young ladies, that they constituted a feature of the season.
The company was small and select, on these occasions, two or
three married pairs being present for the sake of propriety,
but no society was ever more genial, joyous, and unconstrained
in tone. At the last entertainment, our host finished by giving
188 HAJTNAH THURSTON:
as a choice supper, to which we sat down in order to enjoy it
thoroughly. I have had a prejudice against all ambulatory
suppers since. There were songs and toasts, and fun of the
purest and most sparkling quality. At last, one of the young
ladies said, with a mock despair: ' So, this is the end of oui
bachelor evenings. What a pity ! I am ready to wish that
jou other gentlemen had remained single, for our sakes. You
know you cannot give us such delightful parties as this.'
" * Are there really no more bachelors ?' exclaimed Miss
Remington, a tall, beautiful girl, who sat opposite to me.
* Must we sing : Lochaber no more ? But that will never do :
gome married man must retract his vow, for our sakes.'
" One of the latter, looking around the table, answered :
Let us be certain, first, that we are at the end of the list.
Belknap, Moulton, Parks yes but stop ! there's Woodbury !
too modest to speak for himself.'
" ' Woodbury ! Woodbury !' they all shouted, the young
ladies insisting that I should and must entertain them in my
turn. My heart came into my throat. I attempted to laugh
off the idea as a jest, but they were too joyously excited to
heed me. It was a cruel embarrassment, for none of the com
pany even knew where I lived. My letters were always sent
to the office of my employer. Moreover, I had but five dol-
lars, and had made a resolution never to live in advance of my
wages. What was I to do? The other guests, ignorant of
my confusion, or not heeding it, were already talking of the
entertainment as settled, and began to suggest the evening
when it should take place. I Avas meditating, in a sort of des-
peration, whether I should not spring up and rush out of the
house, when I caught Miss Remington's eye. I saw that she
understood my embarrassment, and wanted to help me. Her
look said 'Accept!' a singular fancy darted through my
mind, and I instantly regained my self-possession. I informed
the company that I should be very happy to receive them, and
that my entertainment should bear the same proportion to my
means as that of our host. The invitations were given and
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 13C
accepted on the spot, ana an evening selected from the follow
ing week.
" ' But where is it to be ?' asked one of the young ladies. ,
" ' Oh, he will let you know in time,' said Miss Remington,
who took occasion to whisper to me, before the company sepa-
rated : ' Come to me first, and talk the matter over.'
" I called upon her the next evening, and frankly confided
to her my situation and means. She was three or four yeara
older than myself, and possessed so much natural judgment
and good sense, in addition to her social experience, that I had
the utmost confidence in her advice. A woman of less tact
would have ofiered to assist me, and that would have been an
end of the matter. She saw at once what was best to be done,
and we very soon agreed upon the preparations. Every thing
was to be kept secret from the rest of the company, whom she
determined to mystify to her heart's content. She informed
them that the entertainment would be unlike any thing they
had ever seen ; that the place was not to be divulged, but the
guests were to assemble at her father's house on the appointed
evening ; and that they must so dress as to do the highest
honor to my hospitality. The curiosity of all was greatly ex-
cited ; the afiair was whispered about, and others endeavored
to join the party, but it was strictly confined to the original
company.
" On my part I was not idle. Adjoining my chamber was
a large room, in which the grocer kept some of his stores.
This room I thoroughly cleaned, removing some of the articles,
but retaining all the kegs and boxes. The grocer, an honest,
amiable man, supposed that I was preparing a little festival
for some of my relatives, and gave me the free use of his ma-
terial. I arranged tl.e kegs and boxes around the walls,
and covered them with coarse wrapping-paper, to serve aa
seats. The largest box was stationed in a corner, with a keg
on the top, as a post for the single musician I had engaged
an old Irish fiddler, whom I picked up in the street I went
ut towards Yorkville and brought home a bundle of cedar
140 HANNAH TIIUKSTON:
boughs, with which I decorated the walls, constructing a large
green word WELCOME above the fireplace. I borrowed
. twelve empty bottles in which I placed as many tallow candles,
and disposed them about the room, on extemporized brackets,
For my owe chamber, which was designed to answer as a dreg
'ing-room for the ladies, I made candlesticks out of the largest
turnips I could find in the market. In fact, I purposely remov-
ed some little conveniences I possessed, and invented substi-
tutes of the most grotesque kind. I became so much inte-
rested in my preparations, and in speculating upon the effect
they would produce, that I finally grew as impatient as my
guests for the evening to arrive.
" Nine o'clock was the hour appointed, and, punctually to the
minute, five carriages turned out of the Bowery and drew up,
one after another, at the side-door. I was at the entrance, in
complete evening dress> with white gloves (washed), to receive
my guests. I held a tray, upon which there were as many
candles fixed in large turnips, as there were gentlemen in the
party, and begged each one to take a light and follow me.
The ladies, magnificently dressed in silks and laces, rustled
up the narrow staircase, too much amazed to speak. As I
threw open the door of my saloon, the fiddler, perched near
the ceiling, struck up 'Hail to the Chief.' The effect, I as-
sure you, was imposing. Miss Remington shook hands with
me, heartily, exclaiming : ' Admirable ! You could not have
done better.' To be sure, there were some exclamations of
surprise, and perhaps one or two blank faces but only for a
moment. The fun was seen immediately, and the evening
commenced with that delightful social abandon in which other
evenings generally end. The fiddler played a Scotch reel, and
the couples took their places on the floor. Two of the older
gentlemen were familiar with both the Scotch and Irish dances,
and the younger ladies set about learning them with a spirit
which charmed the old musician's heart. The superb silka
floated about the room to the jolliest tuues, or rested, in the
intervals, on the grocer's kogs, and once a string of pearls
A STORY OF AMERICAN" LIFE 141
broke and rolled into the fireplace. After a while, the gro-
cer's boy, in his shirt-sleeves, made his appearance with a large
market-basket on his arm, containing a mixture of cakes,
raisins, and almonds. He was in great demand, especially
as I furnished no plates. It was then agreed to put the
basket on a keg, as a permanent refreshment-table, and the boy
brought in lemonade, in all kinds of drinking-vessels. I had
taken some pains to have them all of different patterns. Then
were tin-cups, stoneware mugs, tea-cups, bowls, and even a '
sologne bottle. By this time all had fully entered into the
spirit of the affair: I was not only at ease but jubilant. The
old fiddler played incessantly. Miss Remington sang 'The
Exile of Erin' to his accompaniment, and the old man cried :
we had speeches, toasts, recitations : we revived old games :
we told fortunes with cards (borrowed from the porter-house
across the way) : in short, there was no bound to the extent of
our merriment, and no break in its flow.
" It occurred to some one, at last, to look at his watch.
4 God bless me ! it's three o'clock !' he cried. Three ! and six
hours had already passed away ! The ladies tore up my green
word ' WELCOME,' to get sprigs of cedar as souvenirs of the
evening : some even carried off the turnip-candlesticks. Miss
Remington laughed in her sleeve at the latter. ' I know bet-
ter than to do that,' she said to me ; ' turnips have a habit of
rotting.' It was unanimously voted that I had given them
the best entertainment of the season ; and I am sure, for my
own part, that none had been so heartily enjoyed.
" The story, as you may suppose, soon became known ; and
it was only by sheer resolution that I escaped a social popu-
larity which might have turned ray head at that age. I was
even asked to repeat the entertainment, so that others might
have a chance to participate in it; but I knew that its wh<>le
success lay in the spontaneous inspiration which prompted,
anl the surprise which accompanied it. The incident, how-
ever, proved to be one of the influences to which I must attri
bute wy subsequent good fortune."
142 HANNAH THURSTON:
" Pray, how was that ?" asked Mr. Waldo.
"My employer heard, in some way or other, that I had
given a splendid entertainment. Knowing my means, and
fearing that I had fallen into reckless habits, he called me into
his private office and very seriously asked for an explana-
tion of my conduct. I related the circumstances, precisely aa
they had occurred. He easily ascertained that my story was
true, and from that day forward took an increased interest in
me, to which I must attribute, in part, my rapid advancement.
Now, if there is any moral in all this, I think you can easily
find it. If there is not, perhaps you have been diverted
enough to pardon me for talking so much about myself."
"Why, it's delightful! I never heard anything better!"
cried Mrs. Waldo.
" It shows, though," interposed Mrs. Merryfield, " how in-
consistent those fashionable women are. They can be coura-
geous and independent for the sake of pleasure, but they'd be
horrified at venturing so far for the sake of principle."
"You are hardly just," said Hannah Thurston, addressing
the last speaker ; " Mr. Woodbury's story has a moral, and I
am very glad he has given it to us."
Seth Wattles had been interested and amused, in spite of
himself, but he was not the man to acknowledge it. He was
endeavoring to find some point at which he might carp, with
a show of reason, when Miss Carrie Dilworth entered the room,
and presently Bute Wilson, who had driven from Lakeside to
take Woodbury home.
"Mr. Max.!" cried the latter, whose face had a flushed,
strange expression, " Diamond won't stand alone, and I must
go out and hold him till you're ready."
'Til come at once, then," said Woodbury, and took leavi
at .he company.
A STORY OF AMEBICAJ* LIFE. 143
CHAPTER XL
TWO DECLABAHONS, AND THE AN8WEB8 THERB10,
As Bute, on entering the village, passed the Widow Thurs-
ton's cottage, he noticed a dim little figure emerging from the
gate. Although the night was dark, and the figure was su
muffled as to present no distinct outline, Bute's eyes were
particularly sharp. Like the sculptor, he saw the statue iu
the shapeless block. Whether it was owing to a short jerk-
ing swing hi the gait, or an occasional sideward toss of what
seemed to be the head, he probably did not reflect ; but he
immediately drew the rein on Diamond, and called out " JVIish
Carrie !"
"Ah!" proceeded from the figure, as it stopped, with a
start ; " who is it ?"
Bute cautiously drove near the plank sidewalk, before
answering. Then he said : " It's me."
"Oh, Bute," exclaimed Miss Dilworth, "how you fright
ened me ! Where did you come from ?" .
" From home. I'm a-goin' to fetcU Mr. Max., but there's no
hurry. I say, Miss Carrie, wouldn't you like to take a littJe
sleigh-ride ? Where are you goin' to ?"
" To Waldo's."
" Why, so am I ! Jump in, and I'll take you along."
Miss Dilworth, nothing loath, stepped from the edge of the
lidewalk into the cutter, and took her seat. Bute experienced
a singular feeling of comfort, at having the soft little body
wedged so closely beside him, with the same wolf-skin spread
over their mutual knees. His heart being on the side next
144 HANNAH THUBSTON :
ner, it presently sent a tingling warmth over his whole frame;
the sense of her presence impressed him with a vague physical
delight, and he regretted that the cutter was not so narrow as
lo oblige him to take her upon his knees. It was less than
half a mile to the parsonage about two minutes, as Diamond
trotted and then the doors of heaven would close upon him.
" No ! by Jimminy !" he suddenly exclaimed, turning
around in the track, at the imminent risk of upsetting the
cutter.
" Wliat's the matter ?" cried Miss Dilworth, a little alarmed
it this unexpected manoeuvre.
" It isn't half a drive for you, Carrie," Bute replied. " The
sleddin's prime, and I'll jist take a circuit up the creek, and
across into the South Road. We'll go it in half an hour, and
there's plenty of time."
Miss Dilworth knew, better even than if he had tried to tell
her, that Bute was proud and happy at having her beside
him. Her vanity was agreeably ministered to ; she enjoyed
sleighing ; and, moreover, where was the harm ? She would
not have objected, on a pinch, to be driven through Ptolemy
by Arbutus Wilson, hi broad daylight ; and now it was too
dark for either of them to be recognized. So she quietly
submitted to what was, after all, not a hard fate.
As they sped along merrily over the bottoms of East
Atauga Creek, past the lonely, whispering elms, and the
lines of ghostly alders fringing the stream, where the air
struck their faces with a damp cold, the young lady shud-
iered. She pressed a little more closely against Bute, as if
to make sure of his presence, and said, hi a low tone : M 1
ihould not like to be alone, here, at this hour."
Poor Bute felt that the suspense of his heart was no longer
lo be borne. She had played with him, and he had allowed
himself to be played with, long enough. He would ask a
serious question and demand a serious answer. His resolution
was fixed, yet, now that the moment had arrived, his tougue
seecacd to become paralyzed. The words were in his mind,
A STORY OF AMERICAN LlFE. 145
every one of them he had said them over to himself, a hun-
dred times but there was a muzzle on his mouth which pre-
vented their being put into sound. He looked at the panels
of fence as they sped past, and thought, " so much more of
the road has gone, and I have said nothing."
Miss Dilworth's voice was like a palpable hand stretched
out to draw him from that quagmire of silence. "Oh,
Carrie!" he exclaimed, "you needn't be alone, anywheres
leastways where there's any thing to skeer or hurt you."
She understood him, and resumed her usual tactics, half-
accepting, half-defensive. " We can't help being alone some-
times, Bute," she answered, " and some are born to be alone
always. Alone in spirit, you know; where there is no con-
genial nature."
" You're not one o' them, Carrie," said Bute, desperately.
" You know you're not a genus. If you was, T shouldn't keer
whether I had your good-will or not. But I want that, and
more'n that, because I like you better than any thing in this
world. I've hinted the same many a time, and you know it,
and I don't want you to turn it off no longer."
The earnestness of his voice caused Miss Dilworth to trem-
ble. There was a power in the man which she feared she
could not withstand. Still he had made no definite proposal,
and she was not bound to answer more than his words literally
indicated.
" Why, of course I like you, Bute," said she ; " everybody
does. And you've always been so kind and obliging towards
me."
" Like ! I'd ruther you'd say hate than like- There's two
kinds c' likin', and one of 'em's the kind that doesn't fit any
body that comes along. Every man, Carrie, that's wuth hi
fcalt, must find a woman to work for, and when he's nigh onto
thirty, as I am, he wants to see a youngster growin' up, to
take his place when he gits old. Otherways, no matter how
lucky he is, there's not much comfort to him in livin'. Now,
I'm awful serious about this. I don't care whether we're con-
146 HANNAH THURSTON:
genial spirits, or not, but I want you, Carrie, for my wife
Ton may hunt far and wide, but you'll find nobody that'll
feeer for you as I will. Perhaps I don't talk quite as fine as
gome, but talkin's like the froth on the creek ; maybe it's
shallow, and maybe it's deep, you can't tell. The heart's the
main thing, and, thank God, I'm right there. Carrie, this
once, jist this once, don't trifle with me."
Bute's voice became soft and pleading, as he closed. Misa
Dilworth was moved at last ; he had struck through her affec-
ted sentimentalism, and touched the small bit of true womanly
nature beneath it. But the impression was too sudden. She
had not relinquished her ambitious yearnings ; she knew and
valued Bute's fidelity, and, precisely for that reason, she felt
secure in seeming to decline it. She would have it in reserve,
in any case, and meanwhile, he was too cheerful and light-
hearted to suffer much pain from the delay. Had he taken
her in his arms, had he stormed her with endearing words,
had he uttered even one sentence of the hackneyed sentiment
in which she delighted, it would have been impossible to re-
sist. But he sat silently waiting for her answer, while the
horse slowly climbed the hill over which they must pass to
reach the South Road ; and in that silence her vanity regained
as strength.
" Carrie ?" he said, at last
" Bute ?"
" You don't answer me."
" Oh, Bute !" said she, with a curious mixture of tenderness
and coquetry, "I don't know how. I never thought you
were more than half in earnest. And I'm not sure, after all,
that we were meant for each other. I like you as well as 1
like anybody, but "
Here she paused.
" But you won't have me, I s'pose ?" said Bute, in a tone
that was both bitter and sad.
"I don't quite mean that," she answered. " But a woman
has so much at stake, you know. She must love more than a
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 1*7
man, I've been told, before she can give up her name and hei
life to him. I don't know, Bute, whether I should do right to
promise myself to you. I've never thought of it seriously
Besides, you come upon me so sudden you frightened me a
little, and I really don't exactly know what my own mind is."
" Yes, I see," said Bute, in a stern voice.
They had reached the top of the hill, and the long descent
to Ptolemy lay before them. Bute drew the reins and held
the horse to his best speed. Some inner prop of his strong
breast seemed to give way all at once. He took the thick
end of his woollen scarf between his teeth and stifled the con-
vulsive movements of his throat. Then a sensation of heat
rushed through his brain, and the tears began to roll rapidly
down his cheeks. He was grateful for the darkness which hid
his face, for the bells which drowned his labored breathing,
and for the descent which shortened the rest of the drive. He
said nothing more, and Miss Dil worth, in spite of herself, was
awed by his silence. By the time they had reached the par-
sonage he was tolerably calm, and the traces of his passion
had disappeared from his face.
Miss Dilworth lingered while he was fastening the horse.
She felt, it must be confessed, very uneasy, and not guiltless of
what had happened. She knew not how to interpret Bute's
sudden silence. It was probably anger, she thought, and
she would therefore lay the first stone of a temple of recon-
ciliation. She liked him too well to lose him wholly.
" Good-night, Bute !" she said, holding out her hand : " you
are not angry with me, are you ?''
" No," was his only answer, as he took her hand. There
was no eager, tender pressure, as before, and the tone of his
voice, to her ear, betrayed indiiference, which was worse than
nger.
After Woodbury had taken leave, there was a general move-
ment, of departure. The sempstress had come to spend a few
days with Mrs. Waldo, and did not intend returning; it was
rather late, and the Mcrryfields took the nearest road home, so
148 HANNAH TIIUKSTON !
that Hannah Thurston must have walked back, alone, to her
mother's cottage, had not Seth Wattles been there to escort her.
Seth foresaw this duty, and inwardly rejoiced thereat. The
absence of Woodbury restored his equanimity of temper, and
ho was as amiably disposed as was possible to his incoherent
aature. He was not keen enough to perceive the strong relief
into which his shapeless mind was thrown by the symmetry
and balance of the man whom he hated that he lost ground,
even in his own circle, not merely from the discomfiture of the
moment, but far more from that unconscious comparison of the
two which arose from permanent impressions. He was not
aware of the powerful magnetism which social culture exer-
cises, especially upon minds fitted, "by their honest yearning
after something better, to receive it themselves.
Seth was therefore, without reason, satisfied with himself as
he left the house. He had dared, at least, to face this self-
constituted lion, and had found the animal more disposed to
gambol than to bite. He flattered himself that his earnestness
contrasted favorably with the levity whereby Woodbury had
parried questions so important to the human race. Drawing
a long breath, as of great relief, he exclaimed :
" Life is real, life is earnest ! We feel it, under this sky :
here the frivolous chatter of Society is hushed."
Hannah Thurston took his proffered arm, conscious, as she
did so, of a shudder of something very like repugnance. For
the fiist time it struck her that she would rather hear the
sparkling nothings of gay conversation than Seth's serious
platitudes. She did not particularly desire his society, just
now, and attempted to hasten her pace, under the pretext that
the night was cold.
Seth, however, hung back. " We do not enjoy the night as
we ought," said he. " It elevates and expands the soul. It ia
the time for kindred souls to hold communion."
" Scarcely out of doors, in winter, unless they are disembod-
ied," remarked Miss Thurston.
Seth was somewhat taken aback. He had not expected so
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 149
tight a tone from so grave and earnest a nature. It was tin-
rtsual with her, and reminded him, unpleasantly, of Wood-
bury's frivolity. But he summoned new courage, and con.
tinued :
" We can say things at night for which we have no courags
in daylight. We are more sincere, somehow less selfish, you
know, and more affectionate."
" There ought to be no such difference," said she, mechani-
cally, and again hastening her steps.
" I know there oughtn't. And I didn't mean that I wasn't
as true as ever ; but but there are chosen times when our
souls are uplifted and approach each other. This is such a
time, Hannah. We seem to be nearer, and and "
He could get no farther. The other word in his mind was
too bold to be used at the outset. Besides, having taken one
step, he must allow her to take the next : it would make the
crisis easier for both. But she only drew her cloak more
closely around her, and said nothing.
" The influences of night and other things," he resumed,
"render us insensible to time and temperature. There is
one thing, at least, which defies the elements. Is there not ?"
" What is it ?" she asked.
"Can't you guess?"
" Benevolence, no doubt, or a duty so stern and sacred that
life itself is subordinate to its performance."
" Yes, that's true but I mean something else!" Seth ex-
claimed. " Something I feel, now, deep in my buzzum. Shall
I unveil it to your gaze ?"
"I have no right to ask or accept your confidence," she
replied.
"Yes, you have. One kindred soul has the right to demand
every thing of the other. I might have told you, long ago,
but I waited so that you might find it out for yourself, with-
out the necessity of words. Surely you must have seen it in my
eyes, and heard it in my voice, because every thing powerful
in us expresses itself somehow in spite of us. The deepest
150 HANNAH THUKSTON:
emotions, you know, are silent ; but you understand my silenc*
now, don't you ?"
Hannah Thurston was more annoyed than surprised by this
declaration. She saw that a clear understanding could not be
avoided, and nerved herself to meet it. Her feeling of repug
nance to the speaker increased with every word he uttered
yet, if his passion were genuine (and she had no right to doubt
that it was so), he was entitled at least to her respect and her
pity. Still, he had spoken only in vague terms, and she could
not answer the real question. Why ? Did she not fully un-
derstand him ? Was the shrinking sense of delicacy in her
heart, which she was unable to overcome, a characteristic of
sex, separating her nature, by an impassable gulf, from that of
man ?
" Please explain yourself clearly, Seth," she said, at last.
" Oh, don't your own heart explain it for you ? Love don't
want to be explained : it comes to us of itself. See here
we've been laboring together ever so long in the Path of Pro-
gress, and our souls are united in aspirations for the good of our
fellow-men. All I want is, that we should now unite our lives
in the great work. You know I believe in the equal rights of
Woman, and would never think of subjecting you to the
tyranny your sisters groan under. I have no objection to
taking your name, if you want to make that sort of a protest
against legal slavery. We'll both keep our independence, and
show to the world the example of a true marriage. Somebody
must begin, you know, as Charles Macky, the glorious poet of
our cause, says in his Good Time Coming."
" Seth," said Hannah Thurston, with a sad, deliberate sweet-
ness in her voice, " there is one thing, without which there
should be no union between man and woman."
"What is that?" he asked.
"Love."
" How? I don't understand you. That is the very reason
" You forget," she interrupted, " that love must be recipro-
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 161
cal. You have taken it for granted that I returned, in equal
measure, the feelings you have expressed towards me. Where
the fortune of a life is concerned, it is best to be frank, though
frankness give pail. Seth, I do not, I never can, give you
love. A coincidence of opinions, of hopes and aspirations, ia
not love. I believe that you have made this mistake in your
o\t n mind, and that you will, sooner or later, thank me for
having revealed it to you. I have never suspected, in you,
the existence of love in its holiest and profoundest meaning,
nor have I given you reason to suppose that my sentiments
towards you were other than those of friendly sympathy and
good-will. I deeply regret it, if you have imagined otherwise.
I cannot atone to you for the ruin of whatever hopes you may
have cherished, but I can at least save you from disappoint-
ment in the future. I tell you now, therefore, once and for-
ever, that, whatever may happen, however our fates may
change, you and I can never, never be husband and wife."
Sweet and low as was her voice, an inexorable fate spoke in
it. Seth felt, word by word, its fatal significance, as the con-
demned culprit feels the terrible phrases of his final sentence.
He knew, instinctively, that it was vain to plead or expostulate.
He must, perforce, accept his doom; but, in doing so, his in-
jured self-esteem made a violent protest. It was the fretful
anger of disappointment, rather than the unselfish sorrow of
love. He could only account for the fact of his refusal by the
supposition that her affections were elsewhere bestowed.
" I see how it is," said he, petulantly ; " somebody else ia in
the way."
" Do not misunderstand me," she answered. " I, only, am
responsible for your disappointment. You have no right to
question me, and I might well allow your insinuation to pass
without notice ; but my silence may possibly mislead you, as
it seems my ordinary friendly regard has done. I will, there-
fore, for my own sake no less than yours for I desire, in so
solemn a matter, to leave no ground for self-reproach volun
tarily say to you, that I know no man to whom I could surren-
1X9 HATOTAH THTJBSTOtt:
der my life in the unquestioning sacrifice of love. I have long
ince renounced the idea of marriage. My habits of thought
the duties I have assumed my lack of youth and beauly,
perhaps" (and here the measured sweetness of her voice was
interrupted for a moment), " will never attract to me the man,
unselfish enough to be just to my sex, equally pure in his as-
pirations, equally tender in his affections, and wiser in the
richness of his experience, whom my heart would demand, if
it dared still longer to cherish a hopeless dream. I have not
even enough of an ideal love remaining, to justify your jeal-
ousy. In my association with you for the advancement of
mutual aims, as well as in our social intercourse, I have treated
you with the kindly respect which was your due as a fellow-
being, but I can never recognize in you that holy kinship of
the heart, without which Love is a mockery and Marriage is
worse than death !"
Seth felt it impossible to reply, although his self-esteem waa
cruelly wounded. She thought herself too good for him, then :
that was it! Why, the very man she had described, as the
ideal husband she would never meet it was exactly himself!
It was of no use, however, for him to say so. She had reject-
ed him with a solemn decision, from which there was no ap-
peal. He must, also, needs believe her other declaration, that
she loved no one else. Her inordinate mental pride was the
true explanation.
They had stopped, during the foregoing conversation. Han
nah Thurston had dropped her hold on his arm, and stood,
facing him, on the narrow sidewalk. The night was so dark
that neither could distinctly see the other's face. A melan-
iholy wind hummed in the leafless twigs of the elms above
fhem, and went off to sough among a neighboring group of
pines. Finding that Seth made no answer, Miss Thurston
slowly resumed her homeward walk. He mechanically ac
companied her. As they approached the widow's cottage, he
heaved a long, hoarse sigh, and muttered :
"Well, there's another aspiration deceived. It seein*
A STORY OF AMERICAN i,IFE. 153
there's no quality of human nature which we can depend
upon."
" Do not let this disappointment make you unjust, Seth,"
she said, pausing, with her hand upon the gate. " You have
deceived yourself, and it is far better to become reconciled to
the truth at once. If I have ignorantly, in any way, assisted
in the deception, I beg you to pardon me."
She turned to enter the cottage, but Seth still hesitated.
" Hannah," he said at last, awkwardly : " You you won't say
any thing about this ?"
She moved away from him with an instant revulsion of feel-
ing. " What do you take me for ?" she exclaimed. "Repeat
that question to yourself, and perhaps it may explain to you
why your nature and mine can never approach !" Without
saying good-night, she entered the house, leaving Seth to wan-
der back to his lodgings in a very uncomfortable frame of
mind.
Hannah Thurston found the lighted lamp waiting for her in
the warm sitting-room ; her mother was already in bed. She
took off her bonnet and cloak, and seated herself in the widow's
rocking-chair. Tears of humiliation stood in her eyes. " He
does not deserve," she said to herself, " that I should have
opened my heart before him. I wanted to be just, for I thought
that love, however imperfect or mistaken, was always at least
delicate and reverent. I thought the advocacy of moral truth
presupposed some nobility of soul that a nature which ac-
cepted such truth could not be entirely low and mean. I have
allowed a profane eye to look upon sanctities, and the very
effort I made to be true and just impresses me with a sense of
self-degradation. What must I do, to reconcile my instinctt
with the convictions of my mind ? Had I not suppressed the
exhibition of my natural repugnance to that man, I should have
been spared the pain of this evening spared the shrinking
shudder which I must feel whenever the memory of it re-
turns."
Gradually her self-examination went deeper, and she oon
164 H JLNNAH THURSTON f .
fessed to herself that Seth's declaration of love was in itself hei
greatest humiliation. She had not told him the whole truth,
though it had seemed to be so, when she spoke. She had not
renounced the dream of her younger years. True, she had
forcibly stifled it, trodden upon it with the feet of a stern
resolution, hidden its ruins from sight in the remotest
chamber of her heart but now it arose again, strong in its
im mortal life. Oh, to think who should have wooed her under
the stars, in far other words and with far other answers the
man whom every pulse of her being claimed and called upon,
the man who never came ! In his stead this creature, whose
love seemed to leave a stain behind it whose approach to
her soul was that of an unclean footstep. Had it come to this ?
Was he the only man whom the withheld treasures of her
heart attracted towards her ? Did he, alone, suspect the
splendor of passion which shone beneath the calmness and
reserve of the presence she showed to the world ?
It was a most bitter, most humiliating thought. With hei
head drooping wearily towards her breast, and her hands
clasped in her lap, with unheeded tears streaming from her
eyes, she sought refuge from this pain in that other pain of the
imagined love that once seemed so near and lovely lovelier
now, as she saw it through the mist of a gathering despair.
Thus she sat, once more the helpless captive of her dreams,
while the lamp burned low and the room grew cold.
A. STOKT OF AMERICAN LIFE.
CHAPTER XIL
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER.
THB morning came, late and dark, with a dreary March
rain, the commencement of that revolutionary anarchy in the
weather, through which the despotism of Winter is over
thrown, and the sweet republic of Spring established on the
Earth. Even Woodbury, as he looked out on the writhing
trees, the dripping roofs, and the fields of soggy, soaked snow 4
could not suppress a sigh of loneliness and yearning. Bute,
whose disappointment, bitter though it was, failed to counter-
act the lulling warmth of the blankets after his ride home
against the wind, and who had therefore slept soundly all
night, awoke to a sense of hollowness and wretchedness which
he had never experienced before. His duties about the barn
attended to, and breakfast over, he returned to his bedroom
to make his usual Sunday toilet. Mr. Woodbury had decided
not to go to church, and Bute, therefore, had nothing but his
own thoughts, or the newspapers, to entertain him through the
day. Having washed his neck and breast, put on the clean
shirt which Mrs. Babb took care to have ready for him, and
combed his yellow locks, he took a good look at himself in the
little mirror.
"' I a'n't handsome, that's a fact," he thought to himself
"but nuther is she, for that matter. I've got good healthy
blood in me, though, and if my face is sunburnt, it don't look
like taller. I don't see why all the slab-sided, lantern-jawed,
holler-breasted fellows should have no trouble o' gittin' wives,
and me, of a darned sight better breed, though I do say it, to
*5fl HANNAH THUBSTON:
have sich bad luck ! I can't stand it. I've got every thing
here that a man could want, but 'ta'n't enough. O Lord ! to
think her children should have somebody else than me for a
father !''
Bute groaned and threw himself on the bed, where he
thrust both hands through his carefully combed hair. His
elrong masculine nature felt itself wronged, and the struggle
was none the less severe, because it included no finer spiritua
disappointment. He possessed only a true, honest, tender
heart, as the guide to his instincts, and these, when baffled,
suggested no revenge, such as might occur to a more recklesa
or more imaginative nature. His life had been blameless^
heretofore, from the simple force of habit, and the pure atmos-
phere in which he lived. To confess the truth, he was no\
particularly shocked by the grosser experiences of some of his
friends, but to adopt them himself involved a change so vio-
lent that he knew not where it might carry him. If the
thought crossed his mind at all, it was dismissed without a
moment's hospitality. He did not see, because he did not
seek, any escape from the sore, weary, thirsty sensation which
his disappointment left behind. The fibres of his nature, which
were accustomed to give out a sharp, ringing, lusty twang to
every touch of Life, were now muffled and deadened in tone :
that was all.
It might have been some consolation to Bute, if he could
have known that his presumed rival was equally unfortunate.
In the case of the latter, however, there was less of the pang
of blighted hopes than of the spiteful bitterness of wounded
vanity. Seth Wattles was accustomed to look upon himself,
and not without grounds of self-justification, as an unusuai
man. The son of a poor laborer, orphaned at an early ag<?,
and taken in charge by a tailor of Ptolemy, who brought, him
up to his own business, he owed his education mostly to a
quick ear and a ready tongue. His brain, though shallow,
was acti e, its propelling power being his personal conceit ; but
he was destitute of imagination, and hence his attempted
A STORY OP AMERICAN LIFE. 15
flights of eloquence were often hopelessly confused and illogi-
cal. T\ e pioneer orators of Abolition and Temperance, who
visited Ptolemy, found in him a willing convert, and he was
quick enough to see and to secure the social consideration
which he had gained in the small community of " Reformers"
An advantage which the conservative society of the village de*
nied to him. Indeed, the abuse to which he was occasionally
subjected, was in itself flattering ; for only men of importance,
he thought, are thus persecuted. Among his associates, it was
customary to judge men by no other standard than their views
on the chosen reforms, and he, of course, stood among the
highest. His cant, his presumption, his want of delicacy,
were all overlooked, out of regard to an advocacy of " high
moral truths," which was considered to be, and doubtless was,
sincere.
Let us not, therefore, judge the disappointed tailor too
harshly. His weaknesses, indeed, were a part of his mental
constitution, and could, under no circumstances, have been
wholly cured ; but it was his own fault that they had so
thoroughly usurped his nature.
Whatever spiritual disturbance he might have experienced,
on awaking next morning to the realities of the world, the
woman who rejected him was much more deeply and painfully
troubled. Years had passed since her heart had known so
profound an agitation. She felt that the repose which she had
only won after many struggles, had deceived herself. It was
a false calm. The smooth mii-ror, wherein the sunshine and
the stars saw themselves by turns, was only smooth so long
as the south-wind failed to blow. One warm breath, coming
over the hills from some far-off, unknown region, broke into
fragments the steady images of her life. With a strange conflict
of feeling, in which there was some joy and much humiliation,
ehe said to herself: " I am not yet the mistress of my fate."
She rose late, unrefreshed by her short, broken sleep, and
uncheered by the <lark, cold, and wet picture of the valley. It
was one of those days when only a heart filled 4 ,o the brim
158 HANNAH THURSTON:
with unmingled happiness can take delight in life when the
simplest daily duties present themselves as weary tasks when
every string we touch is out of tune, and every work at-
tempted is one discord the more. Descending to the sitting-
room, she found her mother in the rocking-chair, before a
brisk fire, while the little servant-girl was busy, preparing
the table for breakfast a work which Hannah herself usually
performed.
" Thee's rather late, Hannah," said the widow. " I thought
thee might be tired, and might as well sleep, while Jane set
the table. She must learn it some time, thee knows."
" Fm obliged to thee, mother," the daughter replied. " I
have not slept well, and have a little headache this morning.
It is the weather, I think."
" Now thee mentions it, I see that thee's quite pale. Jane,
put two spoonfuls of tea in the pot ; or, stay, thee'd better
bring it here and let me make it."
Hannah had yielded to the dietetic ideas of her friends, so
far as to give up the use of tea and coffee a step in which
the widow was not able to follow her. A few months before,
the former would have declined the proposal to break her
habit of living, even on the plea of indisposition ; she woulu
have resisted the natural craving for a stimulant or a sed-
ative as something morbid; but now she was too listless,
too careless of such minor questions, to refuse. The unac-
customed beverage warmed and cheered her, and she rose
from the table strengthened to resume her usual manner.
u I thought it would do thee good," said the widow, noting
the effect, slight as it was, with the quick eye of a mother.
" I'm afraid, Hannah, thee carries thy notions about diet a
little too far."
" Perhaps thee's right, mother," was the answer. She had
no inclination to commence a new discussion of one of the fev
subjects on which the two could not agrue.
After the house had been put in order for the day, prepa-
rations made for the frugal dinner, and the servant-girl de-
A STOUT OF AMERICAN LITE* 159
spatched to the Cimmerian Church, Hannah took her usual
Beat by the window, saying : " Shall I read to thee, mother?"
" If thee pleases."
There was no Quaker Meeting nearer than Tiberius, and
iwnce it had been the widow's custom, on "First-Days,"
to read, or hear her daughter read, from the classics of the
sect. To Hannah, also, in spite of her partial emancipation,
there was a great charm in the sweet simplicity and sincerity
of the early Friends, and she read the writings of Fox, Bar-
clay, El wood, and William Penn, with a sense of refreshment
and peace. To these were added some other works of a similar
character, which the more cultivated Quakers have indorsed
as bei^g inspired by the true spirit Thomas a Kempis,
Jererjy Taylor, Madame Guyon, and Pascal. She now took
the o^t-read " No Cross, No Crown," of William Penn, the
tone of which was always consoling to her ; but this time its
sweet, serious utterances seemed to have lost their effect.
She gave the words in her pure, distinct voice, and strove to
take them into her mind and make them her own : in vain !
something interposed itself between her and the familiar
meaning, and made the task mechanical. The widow felt, by
a sympathetic presentiment, rather than from any external
evidence which she could detect, that her daughter's mind
was in .some way disturbed ; yet that respectful reserve which
was habitual in this, as in most Quaker families, prevented
her from prying into the nature of the trouble. If it was a
serious concern, she thought to herself, Hannah would men-
tion it voluntarily. There are spiritual anxieties and strug-
gles, she knew, which must be solved in solitude. No one,
not even a mother, should knock at the door of that chamber
where the heart keeps its privacies, but patiently and silently
wait until bidden to approach and enter.
Nevertheless, after dinner, when the household order was
again restored, and Hannah, looking from the window upon
the drenched landscape, unconsciously breathed a long, wearj
gigh, Friend Thurston felt moved to speak.
160 HANNAH THtmSTON!
" Hannah," she said, gravely and softly, " tfiee seems to
have something on thy mind to-day."
For a minute the daughter made no reply. Turning away
from the window, she looked upon her mother's worn, pale
face, almost spectral in the cloudy light, and then took her
accustomed seat.
" Yes, mother," she answered, in a low voice, " and I ought
to tell thee."
" If thee feels so, tell me then. It may lighten thy own
ourden, without making mine heavier."
" It is scarcely a burden, mother," said Hannah. " I know
that I have done what is right, but I fear that I may have un-
consciously brought it upon myself, when it might have been
avoided." She then repeated the conversation which had
taken place between Seth Wattles and herself, omitting only
that secret, impassioned dream of her heart, a glimpse of
which she had permitted to escape her. She did not dare to
betray it a second time, and thus her own sense of humiliation
was but half explained.
Friend Thurston waited quietly until the story was finished.
" Thee did right, Hannah," she said, after a pause, " and I do
not think thee can justly reproach thyself for having given
him encouragement. He is a very vain and ignorant man,
though well-meaning. It is not right to hold prejudice
against any one, but I don't mind telling thee that my feeling
towards him comes very near being that. Thee never could
be happy, Hannah, with a husband whom thee did not re-
spect : nay, I mean something more whom thee did not feel
was wiser and stronger than thyself."
A transient flush passed over the daughter's face, but she
made no reply.
" Thee has a gift, I know," the widow continued, " and thee
has learned much. There is a knowledge, though, that comes
with experience of life, and though I feel my ignorance in
many ways, compared to thy learning, there are some things
which I am able to see more clearly than thee. It requires n<r
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 161
book-learning to read the heart, and there is less difference in
the hearts of women than thee may suppose. We cannot be
wholly independent of the men : we need their help and com-
panionship : we acknowledge their power even while we
resist it. There are defects in us which we find supplied in
them, as we supply theirs where marriage is perfect and ho'y,
But we cannot know this, except through our own experience
I have agreed with thee in most of thy views about the rights
of our sex, but thee never can be entirely wise on this subject
so long as thee remains single. No, Hannah, thee won't
think hard of me for saying it, but thee does not yet truly
know either woman or man. I have often quietly wished that
thee had not set thy heart against marriage. The Lord
seems to have intended a mate for every one, so that none of
His children should be left alone, and thee should not shut
thy eyes against the signs He gives.
" Mother !"
Even while uttering this exclamation, into which she was
startled by the unexpected words of her mother, Hannah
Thurston felt that she was betraying herself.
" Child ! child ! thy father's eyes thee has his very look !
I am concerned on thy account, Hannah. Perhaps I have been
mistaken in thee, as I was mistaken in him. Oh, if I could have
known him in time ! I shall not be much longer with thee,
my daughter, and if I tell thee how I failed in my duty it may
help thee to perform thine, if if my prayers for thy sake
should be fulfilled."
The widow paused, agitated by the recollections which hei
own words evoked. The tears trickled down her pale cheeks,
but she quietly wiped them away. Her countenance thua
changed from its usual placid repose, Hannah was shocked to
see how weak and wasted it had grown during the winter,
The parting, which she did not dare to contemplate, might bfi
nearer than she had anticipated.
" Do not say any thing that might give thee pain," sh
aid.
162 HANNAH TIIUKSTON.
** Give thyself no concern, child. It will bring me relief.
I have often felt moved to tell thee, but there seemed to b
no fitting time before now."
" Is it about my father ?" Hannah asked.
" Yes, Hannah. I wish he could have lived long enough to
leave his face in thy memory, but it was not to be. Thee often
reminds me of him, especially when I feel that there is some-
thing in thy nature beyond my reach. I was past thy age
when we were married, and he was no longer a young
man. We had known each other for some years, but
nothing passed between us that younger persons would
have called love. I was sincerely drawn towards him, and
it seemed right that my life should become a part of his.
It came to me as a natural change. Richard was not a man
of many words; he was considered grave and stern; and
when he first looked upon me with only a gentle smile on hia
face, I knew that his heart had made choice of me. From
that time, although it was long before he spoke his mind, I ac-
customed myself to think of him as my husband. This may
seem strange to thee, and, indeed, I never confessed it to him.
When we came to live together, and I found, from every cir
cumstance of our daily life, how good and just he was, how
strong and upright and rigid in the ways that seemed right to
him, I leaned upon him as a helper and looked up to him as a
guide. There was in my heart quite as much reverence as
love An unkind word never passed between us. When I
happened to be wrong in any thing, he knew how to turn
my mind so gently and kindly that I was set right without
knowing how. He was never wrong. Our married life was
n season of perfect peace yes, to me, because my own con
tentment made me careless, blind.
" I sometimes noticed that his eyes rested on me with a sin-
gular expression, and I wondered what was in his mind. There
was something unsatisfied in his face, a look that asked for I
knew not what, but more than the world contains. Once>
when I said : ' Is any thing the matter, Richard ?' he turned
A SrOKY OP AMERICAN LIFE. 168
quickly away and answered sharply. After that, I said
ing, and I finally got accustomed to the look. I recollect
when thy brother was born, he seemed like another man
though there was no outward change. When he spoke to me
his voice was trembly, and sounded strange to my ears ; but
my own weakness, I thought, might account for that. He
would take the babe to the win low, before its eyes could bear
the light ; would pick it up when asleep, and hold it so tightly
as to make the poor thing cry ; then he would put it down
quickly and walk out of the room without saying a word. I
noticed all this, as I lay, but it gave me no concern: I knew
not but that all men found their first children so strange and
curious. To a woman, her first babe seems more like some-
thing familiar that is brought back to her, than something en-
tirely new that is added to her life.
" I scarcely know how to make clear to thy mind another
change that came over thy father while our little Richard still
lived. I never could be entirely certain, indeed, when it com-
menced, because I fancied these things were passing moods
connected with his serious thoughts he was a man much
given to reflection and did not dream that they concerned
myself. Therein, our quiet, ordered life was a misfortune.
One day was like another, and we both, I think, took things
as they were, without inquiring whether our knowledge of
each other's hearts might not be imperfect. Oh, a storm would
have been better, Hannah a storm which would have shown
us the wall that had grown up between us, by shaking it down !
But thee will see that from the end thee will see it, without
my telling thee. Richard seemed graver and sterner, I thought,
but he was much occupied with business matters at that tune.
After our child was taken from us, I began to see that he was
growing thinner and paler, and often felt very uneasy about
him. His manner towards me made me shy and a little afraid,
though I could pick out no word or act that was not kind and
tender. When I ventured to ask him what was the matter, he
only answered : ' Nothing that can be helped.' I knew
164 HANNAH THUESTON '
that, that all was not right, but ray eyes were not opened to
the truth."
Here Friend Thurston paused, as if to summon strength to
K>ntinue her narrative. Her withered hands were trembling,
and she clasped them together in her lap with a nervous ener-
gy which did not escape her daughter's eye. The latter had
stened with breathless attention, waiting with mingled eager
ness and dread for the denouement, which she felt must be
more or less tragic. Although her mother's agitation touched
her own heart with sympathetic pain, she knew that the story
had now gone too far to be left unfinished. She rose, brought
a glass of water, and silently placed it on the little table beside
her mother's chair. When she had resumed her seat, the latter
continued :
" Within a year after our boy's death, thee was born. It
was a great consolation to me then, although it has been a much
greater one since. I hoped, too, that it would have made
Richard a little more cheerful, but he was, if any thing, quiet-
er than ever. I sometimes thought him indifferent both to
me and the babe. I longed, in my weakness and my comfort,
to lay my head upon his breast and rest a while there. It
seemed a womanly fancy of mine, but oh, Hannah, if I had had
the courage to say that much ! Once he picked thee up,
stood at the window for a long while, with thee in his arms,
then gave thee back to me and went out of the room without
saying a word. The bosom of thy little frock was damp, and
I know now that he must have cried over thee.
" I had not recovered my full strength when I saw that he
was really ailing. I began to be anxious and uneasy, though
I scarcely knew why, for he still went about his business a-
usual. But one morning it was the nineteenth of the Fifth
month, I remember, and on Seventh-day he started to go to
the village, and came back to the house in half an hour, look-
ing fearfully changed. His voice, though, was as steady as
ever. ' I believe I am not well, Gulielma,' he said to me;
' oerhaos I'd better lie down a while. Don't trouble thyself-
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 165
it will soon be over.' I made him undress and go to bed, foi
my anxiety gave me strength. Then I sent for the doctor,
without telling Richard what I had done. It was evening
when the doctor came ; thee was rather fretful that day, and
I had taken thee into another room, for fear Richard might be
disturbed. I only noticed that the doctor stayed a long time,
but they were old friends, I thought, and might like to talk.
By the time I had put thee to sleep, he had left and Richard was
alone. I went directly to him. ' What is thee to take ?' I asked.
' N othing,' he said, so quietly that I ought to have been relieved,
but I do not know how it was I turned to him trembling
like a leaf, and cried out : ' Richard, thee has not told me all !'
" ' Yes, all, Gulielma,' said he, ' nothing will help : I must
leave thee.' I stared at him a while, trying to stand still,
while every thing in the room went spinning around me, until
I saw nothing more. I was lying beside him on the bed
when I came to myself) My hair was wet : he had picked me
up, poured water on his handkerchief and bathed my face.
When I opened my eyes, he was leaning over me, looking
into my eyes, with a look I cannot describe. He breathed
hard and painfully, and his voice was husky. ' I have fright-
ened thee, Gulielma,' said he ; ' but but can thee not resign
thyself to lose me ?' His look seemed to draw my very soul
from me ; I cried, with a loud and bitter cry, ' Richard,
Richard, take me with thee V and threw my arms around his
neck. Oh, my child, how can I tell thee the rest ? He put
away my arms, he held me back, and gasped, as he looked at
rne with burning eyes : ' Take care what thee says, Gulielnr a j
I am dying, and thee dare not deceive me ; does thee love me
as I love thee more than life, more, the Lord pardon me,
more than heaven ?' For the first time, I knew that I did. If it
was a sin, it has been expiated. I cannot remember what was
aid, after that. It was all clear between us, and he would
ftliow no blame to rest on me ; but he could not speak, except
at intervals. He held my hand all night, pressing it faintly in
his sleep. Tne next day he died.
166 nA>r^An TIIURSTON:
" He had loved me thus all the time, Hannah, and it was thi
pride and the strength of his love which deceived me. He
would not ask for a caress or a tender word, because he
thought that a woman who loved would freely give it nor
would he offer one, so long as he suspected that the sacred ex
pression of his heart might be only passively received. Ah, it
tvas a sad doubt of me on his part, a sad blindness towards
him on mine. When he began to suffer from disease of the
heart, and knew that his life was measured, his self-torture in-
creased. He purposely tried to subdue the mild, tempered
affection which he supposed I felt for him, in order that his
death might be a lighter grief to me. And I lived with him^
day after day, never guessing that his stern, set manner was
not his real self! I do not dare to think on the cross he must
have borne : my own seems heavy, and my spirit sometimes
grows weary under it, and is moved to complain. Then I re-
member that by bearing it cheerfully 1 am brought nearer to
him, and the burden becomes light."
Hannah Thurston listened to the last words with her face
buried in her hands, and her heart full of pity and self-reproach.
What was the pang of her own fruitless dream, her baffled
ideal, beside the sharp, inconsolable sorrow which consumed
her mother's years ? What availed her studies, her intellec-
tual triumphs, her fancied comprehension of life, in comparison
with that knowledge of the heart of man thus fearfully won ?
Humble, as when, a child, she listened to her mother's words
as the accents of infallible wisdom, she now bowed dowr
before the sanctity of that mother's experience.
The widow leaned back in her chair, with closed eyes, but
with a happy serenity on her weary face. Hannah took hot
hand, and whispered, with a broken voice: "Thank thee,
mother !" The weak old arms drew her gently down, and
the pale lips kissed her own.
" Bless thee, my daughter. Now take thy book and let tat
rest a while."
Hannah took the book, but not to read.
A 8TOBY OF AMERICAN LITE.
CHAPTER
OT WHICH SPRING OPENS.
THE rainy Sunday was the precursor of a thaw, which lasted
for a fortnight, and stripped the landscapes of Ptolemy of
every particle of snow, except such as found a lodgment in
fence-corners, behind walls, or in shaded ravines. The wands
of the willow clumps along the streams brightened to a vivid
yellow, and the myriad twigs of low-lying thickets blushed
purple with returning sap. Frozen nights and muddy days
enough were yet in store ; but with every week the sun gained
confidence in his own alchemy, and the edge of the north-wind
was blunted. Very slowly, indeed, a green shimmer crept
up through the brown, dead grass ; the fir-woods breathed a
resinous breath of awaking ; pale green eyes peeped from the
buds of the garden-lilacs, and, finally, like a tender child, igno-
rant of danger, the crocus came forth full blown and shamed
the cowardly hesitation of the great oaks and elms.
During this season, Woodbury's intercourse with the soci-
ety of the village was mostly suspended. After the termina-
tion of the Great Sewing-Union, families fell back into their
narrower circles, and rested for a time both from their social
and their charitable labors. Even the itinerant prophets and
philanthropists ceased their visits, leaving Ptolemy in its nor-
mal darkless. Only Mr. Dyce, it was whispered, had agaiu
made his appearance at the Merry fields', where his spiritual
sessions were attended by a select circle of the initiated.
Neither Woodbury nor Mr. Waldo had been again invited to
attend.
All minor gossip, however, was lost sight of, in the i
168 HANNAH THURSTON:
occasioned by an event which occurred about this time. Miss
Eliza Clancy, to the surprise of everybody, had at last re
ceived " a call." During a visit to Syracuse, she had made the
acquaintance of the Rev. Jehiel Preeks, a widower who, hav-
ing been driven away from Tristan d'Acunha after losing his
wife there, had been commissioned by the A. B. C. F. M. to a
new field of labor in the Telugu country. His station was to
be O'uddapah, only a day's journey from Jutnapore. Miss
Eliza displayed such an intimate knowledge of the latter mis-
sion, derived from Mrs. Boerum's letters, and such a vital con-
cern in the spiritual welfare of the Telugus, that the Rev.
Jehiel, at their third interview, asked her to share his labors.
There were persons in Ptolemy so malicious as to declare that
the proposal really came from Miss Eliza herself; but this is
not for a moment to be believed. The missionary made a bet-
ter choice than such persons were willing to admit. Although
verging on forty, and ominously thin, Miss Clancy was sincere,
active, and patient, and thought more of the heathen souls
whom she might enlighten than of the honors of her new posj
tion. When she returned to Ptolemy as Mrs. Preeks, with
her passage engaged to Madras in the very vessel which was
to carry out the contributions of the Mission Fund, she was
too thoroughly happy to be disturbed by the village gossip.
The other ladies of the Fund foremost among them he*
sister spinsters, Miss Ann Parrott and Miss Sophia Stevenson
immediately resumed work, in order to provide her with *
generous outfit for the voyage. Early in April the parting
took place, with mutual tears, and thenceforth the pious pat
ronage of Ptolemy was transferred from Jutnapore and Mr*
Boerum to Cuddapah and Mrs. Preeks.
The Hon. Zeno Harder occupied his seat in the Legislature,
through the winter. Several times during the session "Wood-
bury received the compliment of documents, one of them entl
tied: "Remarks of the Hon. Zeno Harder, of Atauga County,
on the Mohawk and Adirondac Railroad Bill." Occasionally,
, the Albany Cerbo^us was sent to him with one of the
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFK. 169
leading editorials marked, by way of directing his attention
to it. The Hon. Zeno looked upon Woodbuiy, who had been
so long absent from the country as to have lost " the run" of
politics, as fair prey. By securing him before the hostile party
had a chance, he would gain two votes (one of them Bute's),
and possibly more, besides a President of character and sub-
stance, for mass-meetings. Woodbury, however, was too
shrewd, and the Member too clumsy in his diplomacy, for the
success of this plan. The former, although foreseeing that he
would be inevitably drawn to take sides, sooner or later,
determined to preserve his independence as long as possible.
The churches in the village undertook their periodical " re-
vivals," which absorbed the interest of the community while
thoy lasted. It was not the usual season in Ptolemy for such
agitations of the religious atmosphere, but the Methodist cler-
gyman, a very zealous and impassioned speaker, having initia-
ted the movement with great success, the other sects became
alarmed lest he should sweep all the repentant sinners of the
place into his own fold. As soon as they could obtain help
from Tiberius, the Baptists followed, and the Rev. Lemuel
Styles was constrained to do likewise. For a few days, the
latter regained the ground he had lost, and seemed about *o
distance his competitors. Luckily for him, the Rev. Jehiel
Preeks accompanied his wife on her farewell visit, and was
immediately impressed into the service. His account of his
sufferings at Tristan d'Acunha, embracing a description of the
sickness and triumphant death of his first wife, melted the audi-
tors to tears, and the exhortation which followed was like seed
planted in well-ploughed ground. The material for conversion,
draw?;, upon from so many different quarters, was soon exhaust-
ed, but the rival churches stoutly held out, until convinced th&t
neither had any further advantage to gain over the other.
Mr. Waldo, of course, was not exempt from the general
necessity, although conscious of the disadvantage under which
he labored in representing so unimportant a sect. Its founder
had been a man of marked character, whose strong, peculiar
8
170 HANNAH THURSTON:
/
intellect, combined with his earnestness of heart, -wrought pow
erfully upon those with whom he came in personal contact, but
his views were not broad enough to meet the wants of a large
class. After his death, many of his disciples, released from the
influence of his personality, saw how slight a difference sepa-
lated them from their brethren, and yearned to be included in
a more extensive fold. Among these was Mr. Waldo, whose
native good sense taught him that minor differences in interpre
tation and observances do not justify Christians in dividing theil
strength by a multitude of separate organizations. His congre-
gation, however, was very slowly brought to view the matter
in the same light, and he was too sincerely attached to its
members to give up his charge of them while any prospect of
success remained.
On this occasion, nevertheless thanks to the zeal of some of
hia flock, rather than his own power of wielding the thunder
bolts of Terror Mr. Waldo gained three or four solitary fish
out of the threescore who were hauled up from the deeps by
the various nets. The Cimmerian rite of baptism had this ad-
vantage, that it was not performed in public, and its solemnity
was not therefore disturbed by the presence of a crowd of curious
spectators, such as are especially wont to be on hand when the
water is cold. Mr. Waldo even disregarded the peculiar form
of initiation which characterized his sect, affirming that it added
no sanctity to the rite.
During the period of the revivals, there was a temporary
suspension 01 the social life of Ptolemy. Even kindred fami-
lies rarely assembled at tea except to discuss the absorbing
topic and compare the results obtained by the various churche?
There was a great demand for Baxter's " Saint's Rest,
Alleine's " Alarm," Young's Night Thoughts," and Pollok'i
Course of Time," at the little bookstore. Two feathers dis-
appeared from the Sunday bonnet of Mrs. Hamilton Bue, and
the Misses Smith exchanged their red ribbons for slate-colored.
Still, it was not the habit of the little place to be sombre ; its
gayety was never excessive, and hence its serious moods
A STORY OF AMERICAS LIFE. 1
never assumed a penitential character, and soon wore off! Ir
this respect it presented a strong contrast to Mulligansville
and Anacreon, both of which communities retained a severe
and mournful expression for a long time after their revivals
had closed.
By this time the meadows were covered with young grass,
the willows hung in folds of misty color, and a double row of
daffodils bloomed in every garden. The spring ploughing and
all the other various forms of farm labor commenced in the
valleys, and on the warm, frostless hillsides. The roads were
again dry and hard ; the little steamer resumed its trips on the
lake ; and a new life not only stirred within the twin valleys,
but poured into them from without.
As the uniformity of winter life at Lakeside gave way to
r.he changes exacted by the season, Woodbury became dimly
sensible that Mrs. Fortitude Babb, with all her virtues as a
housekeeper, stood too prominently in the foreground of his
home. Her raw, angular nature came so near him, day by day,
as to be felt as a disturbing element. She looked upon her
dominion as reassured to her, and serenely continued the exer-
cise of her old privileges. While entertaining the profoundest
respect, not unmixed with a moderate degree of affection, for
her mabter, she resisted any attempt to interfere with the
regular course of household procedure which she had long
since established. He was still too ignorant, indeed, to dis-
pute her authority with any success, in-doors ; but when the
gardening weather arrived, and she transferred her rule to the
open air, his patience was sometimes severely tried.
He knew, from his boyish days, every square foot in the
sunny plot of ground the broad alley down the centre, with
flower-beds on either side, producing pinks, sweet-williams,
Larkspurs, marigolds, and prince's-feathers, in their succession ,
the clumps of roses at regular intervals ; the low trellis, to be
overrun with nasturtiums and sweet-peas ; the broad vegeta-
ble beds, divided by rows of currant and gooseberry bushes,
and the crooked old quince-trees against the northern wall
1 72 HANNAH THURSTON t
There were they all, apparently unchanged ; but, reverently
as he looked upon them for the sake of the Past, he felt that
if Lakeside was to be truly his home, its features must, to
some extent, be moulded by his own taste. The old arrange-
ments could not be retained, simply for the sake of the old
associations ; the place must breathe an atmosphere of life,
not of death. In spite of the admirable situation of the house,
its surroundings had been much neglected, and the trained
ej e of its master daily detected new capacities for beauty
Nothing of all this, however, suggested itself to the ossified
brain of the housekeeper. In her eyes, Woodbury was but a
tenant of Mrs. Dennison, and that lady would cry down from
Paradise to forbid the position of her favorite plants and her
trees from being changed. Hence, Mrs. Babb was almost
petrified with astonishment, one warm morning, on Woodbury
saying to her, as they stood in the garden :
" I shall extend the garden, so as to take in another half-
acre. The ground must be first prepared, so it can scarcely
be done this spring ; but, at least, this first row of currants
can be taken up and set beyond the second. The vegetables
will then be partly hidden from sight, and these beds can be
planted with flowers."
" O, the land !" exclaimed the housekeeper. " Did a body
ever aear o' sich a thing ! Where'll you get your currans for
pics, I'd like to know ? They won't bear a mite if you take
'em up now. Besides, where am I to plant peas and early
beans, if you put flowers here ?"
" There," said Woodbury, pointing to the other end of the
garden.
" Why, I had 'em there last summer. Here, where these
Oribbages was, is the right place. To rny 'thinkin', there's
flowers enough, as it is. Not that I'd take any of 'em up :
the was always fond of 'em, and she was satisfied with my
fixin' of the garden. But there's them that thinks they knowa
better. 'T'an't any too big as it was, and if you take off all
this here ground, we'll run out o' vegetables afore the sunv
A STOKT OF AMERICAN LIFE. 173
tner's over. Then, I'll git the blame, all over the neighbor
hood. People knows / 'tend to it."
" Mrs. Babb," said Woodbury, a little sternly, " I shall take
care that your reputation does not suffer. It is my intention
to engage an experienced gardener, who will take all thif
work off your hands, for the future. But the improvements I
intend to make cannot be carried out immediately, and I must
ask you to superintend the planting, this spring. You shall
have sufficient ground for all the vegetables we need, and it
can make little difference to you where they grow."
The housekeeper did not venture upon any further remon-
strance, but her heart was filled with gall and bitterness. She
could not deny to herself "Woodbury's right to do what he
pleased with his own, but such innovations struck her as be-
ing almost criminal. They opened the door to endless con-
fusions, which it distressed her to contemplate, and the end
whereof she could not foresee.
That evening, as Bute was shelling his seed-corn in the
kitchen, he noticed that her thin lips were a little more tightly
compressed than usual, while she plied her knitting-needles
with an energy that betrayed a serious disturbance of mind.
Bute gave himself no concern, however, well knowing that,
whatever it was, he should hear it in good time.
Mrs. Babb sighed in her usual wheezy manner, drawing up
and lotting down her shoulders at the same time, and knit a
few minutes longer, with her eyes fixed on the kitchen clock.
At last she said : " Ah, yes, it's well she's gone."
Bute looked up, but as she was still inspecting the clock, he
naid nothing.
" I was afeard things couldn't stay as they was," she again
remarked.
Bute picked up a fresh ear, and began grinding the butt-
end with a cob, to loosen the grains.
" It's hard to see sich things a-comin' on, in a body's old
days," groaned the housekeeper. This time her gaze was re-
moved from the clock, and fell grimly upon her adopted son
174 HANNAH THURSTON '
" What's the matter, Mother Forty ?" he asked.
" Matter, Bute ? I should think you'd ha' seen it, if yoa
was in the habit o' seein' furder than your nose. Things i
goin' to wrack, fast enough. He will have his way, no matte
how onreasonable it is."
" Well, why shouldn't he ? But as for bein' unreasonable,
I don't see it. He's gettin' the hang of farmin' matters ama-
ein'ly, and is goin' to let me do what I've been wantin' to,
these five year. Wait till we get the gewano, and phosphate,
and drainin' and deep ploughin', and you won't see such
another farm in the hull county."
" Yes, and the garden all tore to pieces," rejoined the house
keeper ; " if she could come out of her grave next year, she
won't know it ag'in. And me, that's tended to it this ever so
long, to have a strange man, that nobody knows, stuck over
my head !"
Bute bent his face over the ear of corn, to conceal a
malicious smile. He knew that all the housekeeper wanted,
was to " speak out her mind" after which she would resign
herself to the inevitable. He accordingly made no further
reply, and commenced whistling, very softly, " Barbara
Allen," a tune which of late seemed to harmonize with his
mood.
Woodbury, on his part, was conscious of a restless stirring
of the blood, for which his contact with the housekeeper was
in the least degree responsible. Her figure, nevertheless,
formed a hard, sharp, rocky background, against which waa
projected, in double sweetness from the contrast, the soft out-
lines of a younger form, glimmering indistinctly through a
inist which concealed the face.
He did not deceive himself. He saw that his apparent in'
dependence was a belligerent condition, in which Ge could
never find adequate peace ; but not for this reason cot from
any cool calculations of prudence did he long to see th
household of Lakeside governed by its legitimate mistress,
If the long years of summer hud made his heart apathetic 01
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. IY5
indifferent, it had not deadened his nature to the subtle magic
of spring. A more delicate languor than tfiat of the tropics
crept over him in the balmy mornings ; all sounds and odors
of tue season fostered it, and new images began to obtrude
npon his sleeping as well as his waking dreams. lie knew
the symptoms, and. rejoiced over the reappearance of the old
disease. It was not now the fever of youth, ignorantly given
up to its own illusions. He could count the accelerated pulsa-
tions, hold the visions steadily fast as they arose in his brain,
and analyze while he enjoyed them. Love and Experience
must now go hand in hand, and if an object presented itself,
the latter must approve while the former embraced.
Reviewing, in his mind, the women whom he knew, there
was not one, he confessed to himself, whom he would ever,
probably, be able to love. His acquaintances in New York
were bright, lively girls the associates of his nieces in some
of whom, no doubt, there was a firm basis of noble feminine
character. It could not be otherwise; yet the woman who
must share his seclusion, finding in him, principally, her
society, in his home her recreation, in his happiness her own,
could scarcely be found in that circle. Coming back to Ptole-
my, his survey was equally discouraging. He could never
overlook a lack of intellectual culture in his wife. Who pos-
sessed that, unless, indeed, Hannah Thurston ? She, i*e ad-
mitted, had both exquisite taste and a degree of culture re-
markable for the opportunities she enjoyed ; but a union with
her would be a perpetual torment. She, with her morbid
notions of right, seeing an unpardonable sin in every innocent
personal habit ! What little she had observed of his external
life had evidently inspired her with a strong dislike of him ;
how could she bear to know him as he was to look over the
pages of his past life ? His wife, he felt, must be allowed no
illusions. If she could not find enough of truth and manliness
in his heart to counterbalance past errors and present defects,
she should find no admittance there.
In spite of these unavailing reviews, one important result
176 HANNAII THUBSTON:
was attained. He would no longer, as heretofore, shrink from
the approach of love. From whatever quarter the guust
might come, the door should be found open, and the word
" Welcome," woven of the evergreen leaves of immortal
longing, should greet the arrival
OF AMERICAN UOTt.
CHAPTER XIV.
OOJTTAINJfG CONVERSATIONS MORE IMPORTANT THAN
SEEM TO BE.
ONE balmy'afternoon, when the dandelions were beginning to
show their golden disks among the grass, Woodbury started on
foot for Ptolemy, intending to take tea with the Waldos, whom
he had not seen for a fortnight. Sauntering along the road,
at the foot of the eastern hill, with the dark, pine-fringed rocks
and the sparkling cascade on one hand, and the fresh, breath-
ing meadows on the other, he found himself, at last, at the
end of the lane leading to the Merryfield farm-house, and
paused, attracted by the roseate blush of a Judas-tree in the
garden. The comfortable building, with its barn and out-
houses, seemed to bask in happy warmth and peace, half-hid-
den in a nest of fruit-trees just bursting into bloom. The
fences around them had been newly whitewashed, and gleamed
like snow against the leafing shrubbery. An invigorating
smell of earth came from the freshly-ploughed field to the south.
Every feature of the scene spoke of order, competence, and
pastoral contentment and repose.
In such a mood, he forgot the occasional tedium of the
farmer's talk, and the weak pretensions of his wife, and only
remembered that he had not seen them for some time. Turning
into the lane, he walked up to the house, where he was cordi-
ally received by Mr. Merryfield. "Come in," said the latter:
" Sarah's looking over seeds, or something of the kind, with
Miss Thurston, but she'll be down presently. You recollect
Mr. Dyce ?" The lust words were spoken as they entered th
e*
1'jfc HANNAH TIIUKSTOW;
room, where the medium, with his sallow, unwholesome face,
at at an open window, absorbed in the perusal of a thick
pamphlet. He rose and saluted "Woodbury, though by no
means with cordiality.
" How delightful a home you have here, Mr. Merryfield,"
Woodbury said. " You need not wish to change places with
any one. An independent American fanner, with his affair*,
in such complete order that the work almost goes on of it-
self, from year to year, seems to me the most fortunate of
men."
" Well yes 1 ought to be satisfied," answered the host :
" I sometimes wish for a wider spere, but I suppose it's best
as it is."
" Oh, be sure of that !" exclaimed Woodbury : " neither is
your sphere a narrow one, if it is rightly filled."
" Nothing is best as it is," growled Mr. Dyce, from the win-
dow, at the same time; "private property, family, isolated
labor, are all wrong."
Woodbury turned to the speaker, with a sudden doubt of
his sanity, but Mr. Merryfield was not in the least surprised.
" You know, Mr. Dyce," said he, " that I can't go that far.
The human race may come to that in the course of time, as it
were, but I'm too old to begin."
"Nobody is too old for the Truth," rejoined the medium, so
insolently that Woodbury felt an itching desire to slap him in
the face, "especially, when it's already demonstrated. Here's
the whole thing," he continued, giving the pamphlet a whack
on the window-sill : " read it, and you'll find how much better
off we are without those selfish institutions, marriage and the
right to property."
"What is it?" asked Woodbury.
" It's the annual report of the Perfectionists. They have a
community near Aqueauda, where their principles are put in
practice. Every thing is in common : labor is so divided that
no one feels the burden, yet all live comfortably. The children
are brought ap all together, and so the drudgery of a family it
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 17ft
avoided. Besides, love is not slavery, but freedom, and the
affections are true because they do not wear legal chains."
" Good God ! Is this true ?" exclaimed Woodbury, turning
tc Mr. Merryfield.
" I believe it is," he answered. " I've read part of the re
port, and there are queer things in it. Even if the doctrine is
right, I don't think mankind is fit for it yet. I shouldn't like
even, to let everybody read that book : though, to be sure,
we might be much more outspoken than we are."
"Read it," said Mr. Dyce, thrusting the pamphlet into
Woodbury's hand. "It's unanswerable. If you are not
blinded by the lies and hypocrisies of Society, you will see
what the true life of Man should be. Society is the Fall, sir,
and we can restore the original paradise of Adam whenever
we choose to free ourselves from its tyranny."
" No doubt, provided we are naturally sinless, like Adam,'
Woodbury could not help saying, as he took the pamphlet.
He had no scruples in receiving and reading it, for he was not
one of those delicate, effeminate minds, who are afraid to look
on error lest they may be infected. His principles were so
well-based that every shock only settled them the more firmly.
He had never preferred ignorance to unpleasant knowledge,
and all of the latter which he had gained had not touched the
sound manliness of his nature.
" We are !" cried Mr. Dyce, in answer to his remark.
" The doctrine of original sin is the basis of all the wrongs of
society. It is false. Human nature is pure in all its instincts,
and we distort it by our selfish laws. Our life is artificial and
unnatural. If we had no rights of property we should have
oo theft : if we had no law of marriage we should have no li-
centiousness : if we had no Governments, we should have no
war."
Mr. Merryfield did not seem able to answer these declara-
tions, absurd as they were, and Woodbury kept silent, from
self-respect. The former, however, was stronger in his instincts
than in his powers of argument, and shrank, with a sense o*
180 HANNAH THUKSTON :
painful repugnance, from a theory which he was unable to com-
bat. Mr. Dyce's prolonged visit was beginning to be disar
greeable to him. His ambition to be considered a prominent
reformer was his weak side, and his freely-offered hospitality
o the various apostles had given him a consideration which
misled him. His kindness had thus frequently been imposed
upon, but the secret fear of losing his place had prevented him
hitherto, from defending himself.
Mr. Dyce, on the other hand, was one of those men who are
not easily shaken off. He led a desultory life, here and there,
through New York and the New England States, presiding at
spiritual sessions in the houses of the believers, among whom
he had acquired a certain amount of reputation as a medium.
Sometimes his performances were held in public (admittance
ten cents), in the smaller towns, and he earned enough in this
way to pay hir necessary expenses. When he discovered a be-
lieving family, in good circumstances, especially where the
table was well supplied, he would pitch his tent, for days, or
weeks, as circumstances favored. Such an oasis in the desert
of existence he had found at Mr. Merryfield's, and the discom-
fort of the meek host at his prolonged stay, which would have
been sufficiently palpable to a man of the least delicacy of feel-
ing, was either unnoticed by him, or contemptuously ignored.
Woodbury read the man at a glance, and received, also, a
faint suspicion of Mr. Merryfield's impatience at his stay ; but
he, himself, had little patience with the latter's absurdities, and
was quite content that he should endure the punishment he
had invoked.
Putting the pamphlet in his pocket, and turning to Mr. Dyce,
he said : " I shall read this, if only to find out the point at
which Progress becomes Reaction- -where Moral Reform
shakes hands with Depravity."
The medium's sallow face grew livid, at the firm coolness
with M hich these words were spoken. He half-started from hia
seat, but sank back again, and turning his head to the window,
gave a conteir'ptuo is snort from his thin nostrils.
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 181
" There is mischief in that man," thought Woodbury.
Mr. Merry-field, in spite of his trepidation for he was a
thorough physical coward, and the moral courage on which he
plumed himself was a sham article, principally composed of
vanity nevertheless felt a sense of relief from Woodbury's
composed, indifferent air. Here, at least, was one man who
could meet the vampire unconcernedly, and drive, if need be,
a stake through his gorged carcass. For once, he regretted
.that he did not possess a similar quality. It was almost resist-
ance, he was aware, and the man capable of it might probably
be guilty of the crime (as he considered it) of using physical
force ; but he dimly recognized it in a refreshing element of
strength. He did not feel quite so helpless as usual in Wood-
bury's presence, after that.
Still, he dreaded a continuance of the conversation. " Will
you come, as it were" said he ; " that is, would you like"
Woodbury, who had turned his back upon Mr. Dyce, after
speaking, suddenly interrupted him with : " How do you do,
Mrs. Merry-field ?"
The mistress of the house, passing through the hall, had
paused at the open door. Behind her came Hannah Thurstonj
in her bonnet, with a satchel on her arm.
After the greetings were over, Mrs. Merryfield said : " We
were going into the garden."
" Pray, allow me to accompany you," said Woodbury.
" Oh, yes, if you care about flowers and things."
The garden was laid out on the usual plan : a central alley,
bordered with flower-beds, vegetables beyond, and currants
planted along the fence. It lay open to the sun, sheltered by
a spur of the eastern ridge, and by the orchard to the left of the
house. In one corner stood a Judas-tree, every spray thickly
hung with the vivid rose-colored blossoms. The flowers wene
further advanced than at Lakeside, for the situation was much
lower and warmer, and there had been no late frosts. The
hyacinths reared their blue and pink pagodas, filling the walk
with their opulent breath ; the thick green buds of the tulipi
189 HAMTi-H THURSTON:
began to show points of crimson, and the cushiony masses of
mountain-pink fell over the boarded edges of the beds.
Mrs. Merryfield had but small knowledge of floriculture. Her
beds were well kept, however, but from habit, rather than taste.
" My pineys won't do well, this year, I don't think," said she :
t; this joon-dispray rose is too near them. Here's plenty of
larkspurs and coreopsisses coming up, Hannah ; don't you want
some ?"
" Thank you, my garden is wild with them," Miss Thurston
answered, " but I will take a few plants of the flame-colored
marigold, if you have them to spare."
" Oh, that's trash ; take them all, if you like."
" Miss Thurston," said Woodbury, suddenly, " would yot
like to have some bulbs of gladeolus and tiger-lily ? I have just
received a quantity from Rochester."
" Very much indeed : you are very kind," she said. " How
magnificent they are, in color !" The next moment, she was
vexed at herself for having accepted the offer, and said no
more.
Mrs. Merryfield, having found the marigolds, took up a
number and placed them in a basket, adding various other
plants of which she had a superfluity. As they left the gar-
den, Woodbury quietly took the basket, saying : " I am walk-
ing to Ptolemy also, Miss Thurston."
It was impossible to decline his company, though the
undefinable sense of unrest with which his presence always
affected her, made the prospect of the walk far from agreeable.
>Side by side they passed down the lane, and had nearly gained
the highway, when Woodbury broke the silence by saying :
" What do you think of Mr. Dyce?"
Hannah Thurston was a little startled by the unexpected
question. "I have scarcely formed an opinion," uhe answered:
" it may not be just to decide from impressions only. If I did
BO, the decision would not be iavorable to him."
"You are right!" lie exclaimed, with energy. "Do not
speak to him again ! I beg pardon," he added, apologetically
A 8TOET OF AMERICAN LIFE. 183
" I did not mean to be dictatorial ; but the man is thoroughly
false and bad."
"Do you know any thing of him?" she asked.
"Only what I have myself observed. I have learned to
trust my instincts, because I find that what we call instinct it
only a rapid and subtle faculty of observation. A man can
never completely disguise himself, and we therefore see him
most truly at the first glance, before his powers of deception
can be exercised upon us."
"It may be true," she said, as if speaking to herself, "but
one's prejudices are so arbitrary. How can we know that we
are right, in yielding to them ?"
For a moment, a sharp retort hovered on Woodbury's
tongue. How can we know, he might have said, that we are
right in accepting views, the extreme character of which is
self-evident? How can we, occupying an exceptional place,
dare to pronounce rigid, unmitigated judgment on all the rest
of mankind ? But the balmy spring day toned him to gentle-
ness. The old enchantment of female presence stole over him,
as when it surrounded each fair face with a nimbus, to the nar-
cotized vision of youth. One glance at his companion swept
away the harsh words. A tender gleam of color flushed her
cheeks, and the lines of her perfect lips were touched with a
pensive softness. Her eyes, fixed at the moment on the hill
beyond the farther valley, were almost as soft as a violet in hue
He had never before seen her in the strong test of sunshine,
and remarked that for a face like hers it was no disenchant-
ment. She might be narrow and bigoted, he felt, but she was
nevertheless true, earnest, and pure.
" We are not required to exhibit our prejudices," he said
"In Society, disagreeable persons are still individuals, and
have certain claims upon us. But, after all the latitude we are
required to grant, a basis of character must be exacted. DC
you think a man consciously false and depraved should be tol
erated on account of a coincidence in opinions?"
" Certainly not," she replied-
184 HANNAH THURSTOK:
Woodbury then related the incident of the piano. He ba
gan to feel a friendly pity for the girl walking besiie him.
Her intense earnestness, he saw, and her ignorance of the true
nature of men, were likely to betray her, as in the present case,
into associations, the thought of which made him shudder. He
would at least save her from this, and therefore told the story,
with an uncomfortable sense, all the while, of the pamphlet in
nis pocket.
Hannah Thurston was unfeignedly shocked at the deception
of Mr. Dyce. " I am glad you have told me this," said she,
"for I wanted a justification for avoiding him. Have you
mentioned it to the Merryfields ?"
"No."
lt Why not?"
" In the first place, you know that they are too infatuated
with the spiritual delusion to believe it. He would have an
explanation ready, as he had that night. Moreover, it would
cost Bute, who gave me the details in confidence, the loss of
two friends. For his sake let it still be confidential."
She met his deep brown eyes, and bowed in reply. He
plucked the stalk of a dandelion, as they went along, pinched
off the flower, split the lower end, and putting it into his
mouth, blew a tiny note, as from a fairy trumpet. His man-
ner was so serious that Hannah Thurston looked away lest he
should see her smile.
" You are laughing, I know," said he, taking the stalk from
his mouth, " and no wonder. I suddenly recollected having
blown these horns, as a boy. It is enough to make one boy-
ish, to see spring again, for the first time in fifteen years. 1
wonder if the willow switches are too dry. Henry Denison
and I used to make very tolerable flutes of them, but we never
oould get more than four or five notes."
" Then you value your early associations ?" she asked.
" Beyond all others of my life, I think. Is it not pleasant,
to look back to a period when every thing was good, when aD
men aud women were infinitely wise and benevolent, when life
took care of itself and the future was whatever you chose to
make it? Now, when I know the world know it, Miss
Thurston" and his voice was grave and sad " to be far
worse than you, or any other pure woman suspects, and still
keep my faith in the Good that shall one day be triumphant,
I can smile at my young ignorance, but there is still a glory
around it. Do you know Wordsworth's Ode ?"
" Yes ' the light that never was on sea or land.' "
" Never until after it has gone by. We look back and see
it. Why, do you know that I looked on Mrs. Merryfield as a
Greek must have looked on the Delphian Pythoness ?"
Hannah Thurston laughed, and then suddenly checked her-
seif. She could not see one of her co-workers in the Great
Cause ridiculed, even by intimation. The chord he had
touched ceased to vibrate. The ease with which he recov-
ered from a deeper tone and established conversation again in
mental shallows, annoyed her all the more, that it gratified
some latent instinct of her own mind. She distrusted the
influence which, in spite of herself, Woodbury exercised upon
her.
" I see your eyes wander off to the hills," he said, after an
interval of silence. " They are very lovely to-day. In this
spring haze the West Ridge appears to be as high as the
Jura. How it melts into the air, far up the valley ! The
effect of mountains, I think, depends more on atmosphere
than on their actual height. You could imagine this valley to
be one of the lower entrances to the Alps. By the way, Misa
Thurston, this must have given you a suggestion of them.
How did you manage to get such a correct picture in your
mind ?"
She turned her surprised face full towards him. The
dreamy expression which softened its outline, and hovered
in the luminous depth of her eyes, did not escape him.
"Oh, I know it," he added, laughing. "What was the
gong you sang at Mr. BUG'S ? Something about an Alpine
hunter : it made me think I was standing on the Schei
166 HANNAH THtTRSlON '
deck, watching the avalanches tumbling down from the Jung
frau."
"You have been in Switzerland, Mr. Woodbury!" sh
exclaimed, with animation.
" Yes, on my way from England to India."
Me described to her his Swiss tour, inspired to prolong the
uarrative by the eager interest she exhibited. The landscapes
of the higher Alps stood clear in his memory, and he had the
faculty of translating them distinctly into words. Commenc-
ing with the valley of the Reuss, he took her with him over
the passes of the Furca and the Grimsel, and had only reached
the falls of the Aar, when the gate of the Widow Thurston'fi
cottage shut down upon the Alpine trail.
" We will finish the trip another time," said Woodbury, an
he opened the gate for her.
" How much I thank you ! I seem to have been in Switzer-
land, myself. I think I shall be able to sing the song better,
from knowing its scenery."
She offered him her hand, which he pressed cordially. A I
should like to call upon your mother again," he said.
" She will be very glad to see you."
As he walked down the street towards the Cimmerian par-
sonage, his thoughts ran somewhat in this wise : " How much
natural poetry and enthusiasm that girl has in her nature ! It
is refreshing to describe anything to her, she is eo absorbed in
receiving it. What a splendid creature she might have be-
come, under other circumstances ! But here she is hopelessly
warped and distorted. Nature intended her for a woman and
a wife, and the role of a man and an apostle is a monstrous per-
version. I do not know whether she most attracts me throogh
what she might have been, or repels me through what she is.
She suggests the woman I am seeking, only to show me how
vain the search must be. I am afraid I shall have to give it up."
Pursuing these reflections, he was about passing the parson-
age without recognizing it, when a cheery voice rang out to
him from the open door :
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 18?
" Have you lost the way, Mr. Woodbury ?"
"'Not lost, but gone before,' " said he, as Le turned back
to the gate.
"What profanity!" exclaimed Mrs. Waldo, though she
laughed at the same time. " Come in : our serious season ia
over. I suppose I ought to keep a melancholy face, for two
weeks longer, to encourage the new converts, but what is one
to do, when one's nature is dead against it?"
" Ab, Mrs. Waldo," replied Woodbury, " if you suffered
under your faith, instead of rejoicing in it, I should doubt your
Christianity. I look upon myself as one of your converts."
" I am afraid you are given to backsliding."
" Only for the pleasure of being reconverted," said he ; " but
come be my mother-confessoress. I am in great doubt and
perplexity."
" And you come to a woman for help ? Delightful !"
" Even so. Do you remember what you said to me, when
I picked you up out of the wreck, last winter ? But I see you
do not. Mrs. Fortitude Babb is a tyra it."
Mrs. Waldo was not deceived by this mock lamentation.
He would not first have felt the tyranny now, she knew, unless
a stronger feeling made it irksome.
" Ah ha ! you have found it out," she said. " Well you
know the remedy."
" Yes, I know it ; but what I do not know is the woman
who should take her place."
"Don't you?" said Mrs. Waldo, with a sigh, "then, of
course, I do not."
" I walked from Merryfield's, this afternoon, with Hannak
Thurston," he presently remarked.
" Well ?" she asked eagerly.
" What a perversion of a fine woman ! I lose my tem-
per when I think of it. I came very near being rude to her."
" You rude ?" exclaimed Mrs. Waldo, " then she must have
provoked you beyond endurance."
" Not by any thing she said, but simply by what she is. M
188 HANNAH THURSTOW :
" What, pray ?"
" A * strong-minded woman.' Heaven keep me from all
such ! I have will enough for two, and my household shall
never have more than one bead."
" That's sound doctrine," said Mr. Waldo, hearing the last
word* as he entered the room.
A 8TOEY OF AMEEICAN LIFE. 139
CHAPTER XV.
WHICH COMES NEAR BEING TBAGIC.
IN the beginning of June, the Merryfields received ad
ditional guests. Among their acquaintances in New Yort
city were Mr. and Mrs. Whitlow, whom they had met during
the Annual Convention of the Anti-Slavery Society. Mr.
Whitlow was a prosperous grocer, who had profited by selling
" free sugar" at two cents a pound more than the product of
slave labor, although the former was an inferior article. He
was very bitter in his condemnation of the Manchester manu-
facturers, on account of their consumption of cotton. The
Merryfields had been present at a tea-party given by him to
Mr. Wendell Phillips, and the circumstance was not forgotten
by their hosts. When the latter shut up their house in the
respectable upper part of Mercer street, in order to make a
summer trip to Lake Superior by way of Niagara, they de-
termined to claim a return for their hospitality. Tea in Mercer
street was equivalent, in their eyes, to a week's entertainment
at Ptolemy. If not, they could invite the Merryfields again,
at the next Convention, which would certainly balance the
account.
Accordingly, one fine evening, the stage from Atauga City
brought to Ptolemy, and a carriage from Fail iamb's livery-
etable forwarded to the Merryfield farm, Mr. and Mrs. Whit-
ow, and their two daughters, Mary Wollstonecraft Whitlow,
aged thirteen, and Phillis Wheatley Whitlow, aged nine
together with four trunks. The good-natured host waa
overwhelmed with this large and unexpected visit, and feebly
ndeavored to obtain u signal from his wife as to whether thej
190 HANNAH THUKSTOW:
could be conveniently accommodated, during the bustle of
arrival
" If I had knowed, as it were, that you were coming,"
said he.
" Oh, we thought we would take you by surprise : it's so
luch pleasanter," exclaimed Mrs. Whitlow, a tall, gaunt
woman, who displayed a pair of large feet as she clambered
down from the carriage. She thereupon saluted Mrs. Merry-
field with a kiss which sounded like the splitting of a
dry chip.
Mary Wollstonecraft and Phillis Wheatley scampered off
around the house and into the garden as soon as they touched
ground. They amused themselves at first by pulling up the
early radishes, to see how long their roots were, but after a
while were attracted by the tulips, and returned to ths house
with handfuls of the finest.
"Where did you get those?" said their mother; "I am
afraid they have taken too many," she added, turning towards
Mrs. Merryfield, " but the dear children are so fond of flowers.
I think it elevates them and helps to form their character.
The Beautiful and the Good, you know, are one and the same."
" Yes, but it ought to be directed," replied Mrs. Merryfield,
without exactly knowing what she was saying. She saw, in
imagination, her garden stripped bare, and was meditating
how she could prevent it. Her husband put a padlock on the
gate next morning, and in the course of the forenoon Phiilia
Wheatley was discovered hanging by her frock from th
paling.
There was no help for it. The Whitlows had come to stay,
and they stayed. Mr. Dyce was obliged to give up his oc-
cupancy of the best bedroom, and take a small chamber under
the roof. Merryfield hoped, but in vain, that this new dis-
comfort would drive him away. The new-comers were ac-
quaintances of his, and although not spiritualists, yet they were
very free to discuss the peculiar doctrines of the Aqueanda
community.
A STORY OP AMERICAN LIFB. 191
Day by day, Mrs. Merryfield saw her choice hams and her
cherished fowls disappearing before the onslaught of her
guests. Her reserve of jams and marmalades was so drawn
upon that she foresaw its exhaustion before the summer's fruit
could enable her to replenish it. Mary Wollstonecraft and
l*hillis Wheatley were especially destructive, in this respect,
and very frankly raised a clamor for " preserves," when there
happened to be none on the table. Then- mother mildly tol-
erated this infraction of good behavior on their part.
" They make themselves at home," she would remark, turn-
ing to the hostess with an amiable smile. " I think we should
allow some liberty to the dietetic instincts of children. Alcott
says, you know, that ' like feeds like the unclean spirit licks
carnage and blood from his trencher.' "
" Gracious me !" exclaimed Mrs. Merryfield, shuddering.
" Yes : and in the scale of Correspondences saccharine sub-
stances are connected with gentleness of heart. I rejoice to
see this development in the dear children. Do you preserve
with free sugar ?"
" No," replied the hostess, with a faint salmon-colored blush,
" we can't get it in Ptolemy. I should like to bear testimony
in this way, if it was possible, but there are so few in this
neighborhood who are interested in the cause of Humanity,
that we cannot do as much as we desire."
" Why don't you apply to me?" said Mr. Whitlow. "No-
thing easier than to buy two or three barrels at a time, and
have it sent by rail. It will cost you no more than this" -
putting a spoonful of quince jelly into his mouth " which is
stained with the blood of the slave/' He said nothing, how-
ever, about the quality of the sugar, which was a very coarse,
brown article, purporting to come from Port-au-Prince.
Fortunately, Mr. Merryfield's corn had been planted before
the arrival of his guests. Otherwise, there would have been a
Berious interference with his fanning operations. Every
pleasant afternoon, the Whitlows laid claim to his carriage and
horses, and, accepting the services of Mr. Dyce as coachmstn,
192 ttAtfNAH THtmSTOlC:
drove up and down the valleys, and even to the summits oi
the hills, to obtain the best views. The very freedom with
which they appropriated to their use and comfort all the ap-
pliances which the farm furnished, imposed upon their kind-
hearted hosts. In the eyes of the latter, claims so openly
made involved the existence of a right of some kind, thougl
precisely what the right was, they could not clearly under-
stand.
When Mrs. Whitlow, therefore, whose devotion to "Na-
ture" was one of her expressed characteristics, proposed a
pic-nic for the following Saturday afternoon, it was accepted
without demur, as one of the ordinances of Destiny. The
weather had suddenly grown warm, and the deciduous trees
burst into splendid foliage, the luxuriant leaves of summer still
wearing the fresh green of spring-time. All the lower portion
of the valley, and its cleft branches beyond Ptolemy, from
rim to rim of the enclosing hills, hummed and stirred with
au overplus of life. The woods were loud with birds ; a tiny
overture of insect horns and drums, in the meadows, preluded
the drama of their ephemeral life ; the canes of maize shot the
brown fields with points of shining green, and the wheat be-
gan to roll in shallow ripples under the winds of the lake.
Mrs. Whitlow's proposal was well-timed, in a land where the
beautiful festival of Pentecost is unknown, and it did the
Merryfields no harm that they were forced, against their habit,
to celebrate the opening season.
Not more than a mile from the farm-house there was a spot
admirably adapted for the purpose. It was a favorite resort,
dining the summer, of the young gentlemen and Ialie8 of
*tolemy, and sometimes, even, had been honored by the visit
f a party from Tiberius. Roaring Brook, which had its rise
-ome miles distant, among the hollows of the upland, issued
from a long glen which cleft East Atauga Hill at the point
where it bent away from the head of the lake, to make its
wider sweep around to the cape beyond Lakeside. At this
point there was :i slightly shelving terrace, a quarter of a mile
A STORY 01 AMEJUCAX LIFE. 10S
in breadth, thrust out like the corner of a pedestal upon which
the hill had formerly rested. The stream, after lending a part
of its strength to drive a saw-mill at the mouth of the glen,
passed swiftly across the terrace, twisting its way through
broken, rocky ground, to the further edge, whence it tumbled
n a cataract to the valley. The wall of rock was crowned
with a thick growth of pine, cedar, maple, and aspen trees, and
the stream, for the last hundred yards of its course, slid
through deep, cool shadows, to flash all the more dazzlingly
into the sunshine of its fall From the brink there were lovely
vi. -ws of the valley and lake; and even within the grove, aa
far as a flat rock, which served as a table for the gay parties,
penetrated glimpses of the airy distance.
The other members of the little band of " Reformers " in
Ptolemy were invited to take part in the pic-nic. The Whit-
lows desired and expected this, and would have considered
themselves slighted, had the invitations been omitted. Mrs
Waldo was included, at the request of Hannah Thurston, who
knew her need of recreation and her enjoyment of it. Be-
sides, she was sure that Mr. Dyce would be there, and sus-
pected the presence of Seth Wattles, and she felt the advan-
tage of being accompanied by a brave and sensible friend.
Mr. Waldo was obliged to attend a meeting of the Trustees
of the Cimmerian Church, and so the two women, taking pos-
session of his phlegmatic horse and superannuated gig, started
early in the afternoon for the appointed spot. Before reaching
the gate to the farm-house, they overtook Seth Wattles and
Mr. Tanner, on foot, the latter carrying his flute in his hand.
He was celebrated throughout the neighborhood for his per-
formance of "Love Not' 1 ' 1 and " The Pirate's Serenade," on
that instrument.
The spot was reached by following the highway, past the
foot of Roaring Brook cataract, and then taking a side-road
which led across the embaying curve of the valley and, ascen-
ded to the sa\v-mill at the mouth of the glen. Some of the
party had gone directly across the fields from the Merryfield
9
194 UAKXAH
farm-house, as there was one point in the rocky front of th
terrace where an ascent was practicable without danger. Thus
they nearly all met in the grove at the same time.
The day was warm and still, oppressively sultry in the sun-
shine, but there, under the trees and beside the mossy rocks,
the swift brook seemed to bring a fresh atmosphere with it,
out of the heart of the hills. A light wind, imperceptible else-
where, softly rustled among the aspen-leaves, and sighed off
from the outer pine-boughs into the silence of the air. The
stream, swollen by late rains, yet cleansed of their stain, ran
deep and strong, curving like bent glass over the worn rocks
in its bed, with a suppressed noise, as if hoarding its shout for
the leap from the cliff. The shade was sprinkled with patches
of intense golden light, where the sun leaked through, and the
spirit of the place seemed to say, in every feature, "I wait
for color and life." Both were soon given. The Whitlow
children, in pink frocks, scampered here and there; Mrs.
Waldo's knot of crimson ribbon took its place, like a fiery trop-
ical blossom, among the green; Mrs. Merryfield hung her
orange-colored crape shawl on a bough ; and even Seth's un-
gainly figure derived some consistency from a cravat of sky-
blue satin, the ends of which hung over his breast. Mr. Tan-
ner screwed together the pieces of his flute, wet his lips several
times with his tongue, and played, loud and shrill, the " Mac-
gregor's Gathering."
" The moon's on the lake and the mist's on the brae,"
sang Hannah Thurston to herself, as she stood on the edge of
the stream, a little distance from the others. The smell of the
moss, and of the woolly tufts of unrolling ferns, powerfully ex-
citini and warmed her imagination. She was never heard to
say, in such a spot, like many young ladies, "How romantic 1"
but her eyes seemed to grow larger and darker, her pale cheek
glowed without an increase of color, and her voice was thrilled
with an indescribable mixture of firmness and sweetness. Tim
was her first true enjoyment of the summer. The anxiety oo
A STOBY OF AMERICA LIFB. 105
casioned by her mother's failing health, the reawakening of
dreams she had once conquered, the painful -sense of incom-
pleteness in her own aspirations, and the growing knowledge
of unworthiness in others, which revealed more clearly nei
spiritual isolation, were all forgotten. She bathed her sod in
the splendor of summer, and whatever pain remained was not
distinguishable from that which always dwells in the heart of
joy.
As she reached the line :
" O'er the peak of Ben Lomond the galley shall steer,"
a coarse bass voice behind her joined in the song. She turned
and beheld Seth Wattles and Dyce, seated on a rock. They
had been listening, and might have heard her to the end, had
not the former been too anxious to display his accomplish-
ments. Her repugnance to both the men had unconsciously
increased, and she could no longer resist the impulse which
prompted her to avoid them. Mary Wollstonecraft was fortu-
nately at hand, in the act of chewing fern-stems, and Hannah
Thurston, unacquainted with the young lady's " dietetic in-
stincts," seized her arm in some alarm and conducted her to
her mother.
"Let go!" cried the girl; "mamma lets me eat what I
please."
"But, my dear," mildly expostulated the mother, "these
are strange plants, and they might not agree with you."
" I don't care ; they're good," was the amiable reply.
" Would you not rather have a cake ?" said Mrs. Waldo,
coming to the rescue. " I have some in my basket, and will
bring you one, if you will not put those stems in your mouth."
" I was playing cow, but I'll stop if you'll bring me two."
Mrs. Waldo took her way towards the old gig, which was
left, with the other vehicles, at the edge of the grove. As she
emerged from the shade, and looked up towards the saw-mill,
where the sawyer, in his shirt-sleeves, was tilting about over
a pile of scantling, she saw a horseman coming down the glen
196 HANNAH TIItTRSTOH:
-oad. Something in his appearance caused her to stop and
scan him more closely. At the same instant he perceived her,
turned his horse out of the road, and cantered lightly up to
the gove,
" You here !" he exclaimed ; " is it a camp-meeting ?"
"You there, Mr. Woodbury ! Where have you been?
Are you to monopolize all the secular enjoyments ? No ; it ia
a pic nic, small, but select, though I say it."
" Ah ! who are here ?" he asked, leaning forward on his
horse and peering into the shade " My God !"
Mrs. Waldo, watching his countenance with merry eyes, saw
a flush of horror, quick as lightning, pass over it. With one
bound he was off the horse, which sprang away startled, and
trotted back towards the road. The next instant she saw him
plunge headlong into the stream.
Phillis Wheatley, in whom the climbing propensity was at
its height, had caught sight of a bunch of wild scarlet colum-
bine, near the top of a rock, around which the stream turned.
Scrambling up the sloping side, she reached down for the
flowers, which were still inaccessible, yet so near as to be tan-
talizing. She then lay down on her face, and, stretching her
arm, seized the bunch, at which she jerked with all her force.
The roots, grappling fast in the crevices of the rock, did not
give way as she expected. On the contrary, the resistance of
the plant destroyed her own balance, and she whirled over
into the water.
Woodbury saw her dangerous position on the rock, at the
very moment the catastrophe occurred. With an instant intu
ition, he perceived that the nearest point of the stream was t
bend a little below ; a few bounds brought him to the bank.
in time to plunge in and catch the pink frock as it was swept
down the swift current. He had no time to think or calculate
chances. The stream, although not more than four or five
feet deep and twenty in breadth, bore him along with such
force that he found it impossible to gain his feet. At the last
turn where the current sheered toward the opposite bank, a
A STOET OF AMERICAN LIFE. 101
hrub hung over the watel. His eye caught it, and, half
springing up as he dashed along, he seized it with one hand
The momentary support enabled him to resist the current suf-
ficiently to get his feet on the bottom, but they could gain n<
hold on the slippery rock. As he slipped and caught alter
nately, in a desperate struggle, Phillis, struggling blindly with
him, managed to get her arms around his neck. Thin as they
were, they seemed to have the muscular power of snakes, and,
in his hampered condition, he found it impossible to loosen
her hold. The branch of the shrub gave way, and the resist
less current once more bore them down.
Mrs. Waldo's fearful shriek rang through the grove, and
startled the light-hearted company from their discussion of the
evils of Society. Every one felt that something dreadful had
happened, and rushed towards the sound in helpless and un-
certain terror. She was already on the bank of the stream,
her hair torn by the branches through which she had plunged,
and her face deadly pale, as she pointed to the water, gaspmg (
" Help !" One glance told the whole story. Mrs. Whitlow
covered her face and dropped on the ground. Merryfield
and the father ran down the bank, stretching out their
hands with a faint hope of catching the two as the current
brought them along. Hannah Thurston looked around in a
desperate search for some means of help, and caught sight of a
board which had been placed across two low rocks, for a seat.
" The board quick !" she cried, to Seth and Dyce, who stood
as if paralyzed " at the head of the fall !" Mechanically, but
as rapidly as possible, they obeyed her.
Woodbury, after letting go his hold of the shrub, turned
his face with the stream, to spy, in advance, some new point
of escape. He saw, a hundred feet ahead, the sharp edge of
silver where the sun played on the top of the fall : the sudden
turns of the stream were all behind him, and it now curved
gradually to the right, slightly widening as it approached the
brink. His perceptions, acting with the rapidity of lightning,
told him that he must either ^ain the left bank before making
198 HANNAH THTTRSTON":
half the remaining distance, or keep in the middle of the our
rent, and trust to the chance of grasping a rock which roso a
little above the water, a few' feet in advance of the fall. Ha
was an experienced swimmer, but a few strokes convinced
him that the first plan would not succeed. Before reaching
the rock the water grew deeper, and the current whirled in
itrong eddies, which would give him some little power to di-
rect his course. In a second they seethed around him, and.
though the bottom fell away from under his feet, he felt a sud
den support from the back water from the rock. One tremer
dous effort and he reached it.
To the agonized spectators on the bank, the scene was terri-
ble. Unable to avert their eyes from the two lives sweeping
like a flash to destruction feeling, instinctively, that there
was no instantaneous power of action which could save they
ottered low, incoherent cries, too benumbed to speak or think.
Only Seth and Dyce, who had conveyed the board to the head
of the fall, were hurriedly endeavoring to thrust it out over
che water. In their excitement they had placed it too low to
reach the rock.
" Bring it further up !" shouted Mr. Whitlow.
Seth, nervously attempting to slide it up the bank, allowed
ihe outer end to drop into the current. It was instantly twist-
ed out of his hands and whirled over the fall.
Woodbury had gained a firm hold of the rock, but the
water was up to his shoulders, the conflicting currents tugged
him this way and that, and he was unable to clasp his charge
securely. Her arms were still tight about his neck, but if her
Strength should give way, their situation would become criti-
cal. He saw the effort made for their rescue, and its failure. '
" Another board !" he shouted.
Seth and Dyce darted through the grove in search of one,
while Merryfield, more practical, made off with his utmost
speed for the saw-mill. Hannah Thurston, in spite of her re-
lief at the escape, recognized the danger which still impended.
A single glance showed her the difficulty under which Wood
A. STOEY OF AMEBICAN LIFE. 198
bury labored, and a sickening anxiety again overcame her
To stand still was impossible ; but what could she do ? On a
etump near her lay a fragment of board about four feet in
length. The distance from the bank to the rock was at least
twelve. Another glance at the rapid current, and an ide%
jhich, it seemed to her afterwards, some passing angel mus(
l iave let fall, flashed through her brain. Snatching her silk
mmmer-shawl from the bough where it hung, she tied one end
of it tightly around the middle of the board, drawing it to a
firm knot on the edge. Mrs. Waldo was no less quick in com-
prehending what she intended. By the time the knot was tied,
her own and Mrs. Merryfield's shawls were brought and quickly
fastened, one to another. By this means a length considerably
greater than the breadth of the stream was obtained.
"One thing more," said Hannah Thurston, breathlessly, as
she took the scarf from her neck. Knotting one end and
drawing the other through, so as to form a running noose, she
fastened it to her shawl, near the board. Her plan came to
her in a complete form, and hence there was no delay in put-
ting it into execution. Taking her stand on a point of the
bank, some feet above the rock where Woodbury clung, she
gathered the shawls in loose links and held the board ready to
throw. Woodbury, whose position was such that he could
see her movements without risking his hold, now called to her :
" As far as you can throw !"
Mrs. Waldo had followed to the bank, and stood behind
Hannah Thurston, grasping a handful of her dress, lest she,
too, should lose her balance. But excitement gave Hannah
firmness of nerve, when other women trembled. She flung the
board with a steady hand, throwing the weight of the shawls,
as much as possible, with it. It fell beyond the centre of the
current, whirled around once or twice upon an eddy, and was
eheering back towards the bank again, when Woodbury,
whispering to Phillis, " Hold fast, darling !" put out one hand
and caught it. With some difficulty, and with more risk to
himself than the two anxious women on the bank were aware
200 HANNAII THURSTON:
of, he drew the wet, sticky slip- noose of the scarf over Phillii'i
head and one arm, bringing it under her elbow before he could
loosen her hold upon his neck. Thrusting the board under this
arm, it was an easier task to disengage the other.
"Wind the end of the shawl around that sapling beside
you !" he called to Hannah Thurston. " One of you go below
to meet her."
Mrs. Waldo was on the spot before his words were finished,
" Now, hold fast, my little girl, and you will be safe in a
minute. Ready !" he cried.
Phillis obeyed, rather through blind trust in him, than from
her consciousness of what was going on. The poor creature
was chilled and exhausted, half strangled by the water she had
swallowed, and wild with terror. Her arms having once been
loosened, she clasped them again around the board in a last
convulsive effort of strength. Woodbury let go the frail raft,
which, impelled by the dragging weight of the shawls, darted
at once half-way across the stream. Then it began to move
more slowly, and the force of the current seemed to ingulf it.
For a moment the water rushed over the child's head, but her
dress was already within reach of Mrs. Waldo's hand, and she
was drawn upon the bank, gasping and nearly insensible. Mrs.
Merryfield picked her up and carried her to the mother, who
still lay upon the ground, with her face in her hands.
Woodbury, relieved of his burden, now held his position
with less difficulty. The coldness of the water, not yet tem-
pered by the few days of summer, nevertheless, began to be-
numb him, and he was obliged to struggle against a growing
exhaustion. Hannah Thurston, as soon as the child was
rescued, drew in the board, examined the knots of the shawls
and gathered them together for another throw ; but at th<
same instant Mr. Merryfield, out of breath and unable to speal^
appeared with a plank on his shoulder. With the aid of tut
others, the end was secured between two trees, and it waft
then run out above the water, a little below the rock, where
the stream was shallower. Woodbury cautiously slid down-
A STOET OF AMERICAN LIFE. ?01
gained a firm foothold, and slowly crossed, walking sidewise,
supported by the plank. As he neared the bank, he stretched
out his left hand, which was grasped by Merryfield, who drew
BO tremendously that he almost lost his footing at the last
moment. As he felt the dry earth under him, a singulai
numbness fell upon him. He saw, as in a dream, Mrs. Waldo
nd Hannah Thurston ; the former streaming with grateful
ears, the latter pale and glad, with a moist light in her eyes.
He sat down upon the nearest rock, chilled to the bone ; hia
lips were blue and his teeth chattered.
" It is cold bathing," said he : " have you any wine ?"
"We do not use intoxicating beverages," said Mr. Whitlow,
who could not forget, even in his gratitude for his daughter's
rescue, the necessity of bearing testimony against popular vices,
Mrs. Waldo, however, hastily left the company. Mr.
Merryfield took off his coat, and having removed Woodbury's
with some little trouble, substituted it. The dry warmth be-
gan to revive him. "Where is my new acquaintance?" he asked.
Mrs. Whitlow, after an hysterical outburst of alternate
laughter and tears, had wrapped Phillis Wheatley in the
only remaining dry shawl and given her a saucer of mar-
malade ; but the child was still too much frightened to eat.
Her father brought her in his arms and set her down before
Woodbury. " There, Phillis," said he, and his voice trembled
a little, " you must thank the gentleman for saving your life."
" Thank you for saving my life [" said Phillis, in a rueful
voice.
" Not me," said Woodbury, rising slowly and wearily, and
turning towards Hannah, " but Miss Thurston. Your cool
ness and presence of mind saved both of us."
He took her hand. His fingers were as cold as ice, yet a
w armth she never before felt streamed from them through her
whole frame.
Mrs. Waldo suddenly made her appearance, as breathless a*
before Mr. Merryfield had been, with the plank on his should e*.
She carried in her hand a tumbler full of a yellowish liquid.
9*
202 HANNAH THUESTON:
M There," she panted, " drink it. Thankful am I that ther
are still sinners in the world. The sawyer had a Hack jug.
It's poisonous stuff, I know leads to the gates of death, and
all that but T thanked God when I saw it."
" Good Samaritan !" exclaimed Woodbury fervently, as he
drank. It was, in truth, the vilest form of whiskey, but H
steadied his teeth and thawed his frozen blood.
" Now for my horse and a gallop home !" he said.
" Where is the horse ?" they asked.
" I'll get him," exclaimed Seth, with alacrity.
"Hadn't you better go up to Jones's, as it were,** said
Merry field " He's stopped the saw-mill, and run to the hous-j
to get a fire kindled. You can dry yourself first, and SaraL
can make you some tea or coffee."
Jones made his appearance at almost the same instant.
" I ketched y'r horse, Mr. Maxwood," said he, running tht
names together in his excitement. " He's all right. Come up
t' th' house: Mary Jane's made a rousin' fire, and you kin
dry y'rself."
" Thank you, my friends," "Woodbury answered. " Your
whiskey has done me great sendee, Mr. Jones, and what I now
want more than any thing else is a little. lively motion. Will
you please lend Mr. Merryfield one of your coats, since he has
kindly given me his? I shall ride over and see you to-
morrow ; but now let me get to my horse as soon as possible."
He put his hand on the sawyer's shoulder, to steady him-
self, for his .steps were still tottering, and was turning away,
when he perceived his wet coat, spread out on a rock. Pick-
ing it up, he took a note-book and some pulpy letters from the
breast-pocket. After examining the latter, he crushed then
in his hand, and tossed them into the stream.' He then feu
the deep side-pockets : in one there was a wet handkerchief,
but on reaching the other he dropped the coat.
"There, Mr. Dycc," said he, "you will find your pamphlet
I had it in my pocket, intending to leave it with Mr. Merry,
field this afternoon. It is pretty thoroughly soaked by this
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 203
time, but all the waters of Roaring Brook could not wash it
clean."
Nodding a cheerful good-by to Mrs. Waldo, a respectful
one to Hannah Thurston, and giving Phillis a kiss which left
lier staring at him in open-mouthed astonishment, he left the
company. The sawyer, with a rough tenderness, insisted on
keeping his arm around Woodbury's waist, and on reaching
the mill produced the black jug, from which it was impossible
to escape without a mild libation. Woodbury repaid it the
next day with a bottle of smoky " Islay," the remembrance of
which made Jones's mouth water for years afterwards.
The pic-nic, of course, was at an end. Without unpacking
the refreshments, the party made immediate preparations to
return. The fire Mrs. Jones had kindled was employed to dry
Phillis and the shawls, while the gentlemen harnessed the
horses. Mr. Merryfield went about in the sawyer's Sunday
coat, which had been first made for his wedding, sixteen years
before. It was blue, with brass buttons, a high rolling collar,
very short waist, and tails of extraordinary length. No one
laughed, however, except Mary Wollstonecraft.
In spite of the accident, which left an awed and subdued
impression upon all minds, the ride home was very animated.
Each was anxious to describe his or her feelings, but Mrs.
Whitlow was tacitly allowed to play the chief part.
" You were all running here and there," said she, " and the
movement was some relief. What I suffered, no tongue can
describe. But I am reconciled to it now. I see in it a
mysterious sign that Phillis Wheatley is to have an im-
portant mission in the world, and my duty is to prepare her
tor it."
Fortunately, no injury resulted to the girl thus mysteriously
commissioned, from the manner in which it was done. She
was obliged, very much against her will, to lie down for the
rest of the day ; but the next morning she was discovered in
the stable, pulling the tail-feathers out of an old cock she had
caught.
264 HANNAH THURSTON:
On Monday, the Windows took their departure for Niagar%
greatly to the relief of their hosts. As they do not appeal
again in the course of this history, we may hope that the re-
mainder of their journey was agreeable.
A. 8TORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. MM
CONCERNING AN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY TO TIBEBIUB.
Two days after the departure of the Whitlows, Mr. Dyce,
during breakfast, announced his intention of leaving Ptolemy.
" I have promised to visit the Community," said he, " and it is
now a pleasant time to be there. Could you lend me your
horse and carriage as far as Tiberius, Merryfield?"
" Not to-day, I guess," said the farmer ; " I must go to
Mulligan sville this afternoon, to see about buying another cow,
and Henry has the hill-field to hoe. You could take Jinny and
the carriage, but how would I get them back again ?"
" I will go," said his wife, with an unusual eagerness. " I
must go there soon, any way. I've things to buy, you know,
James, and there's Mrs. Nevins that I've been owing a visit
to, this ever so long."
" Well, if you want to, Sarah," he answered, " I've nothing
against it. Are you sure it won't be too much for you ? You
know you've been having extra work, and you're not strong."
Mrs. Merryfield drew up the corners of her mouth, and gave
a spasmodic sob. " ifes, I know I am the weaker vessel," she
wailed, " and my own judgment don't pass for any thing."
" Sarah, Sarah, don't be foolish !" said her husband ; " yon
tiiovv I never interfere unreasonably with your ways. You
aan do as you please. I spoke for your own good, and you
needn't cry about it."
He rose with an impatient air, and left the table. He could
not but admit to himself, sometimes, that the happiness of hia
married life had not increased iu proportion to his progress in
206 HANNAH THUKSTOtf:
(he knowledge of Reform. When he looked back and recalled
the lively, rosy young woman, with her first nuptial bashful-
ness and air of dependence on her husband fresh about her,
whom he had brought to the farm-house twenty-five years
before, when they lived in utter ignorance of dietetic laws and
flolemu duties towards the Human Race, he could not repress
a feeling of pain. The sallow, fretful woman, who now con-
sidered her years of confiding love as a period of servitude,
which she strove to balance by claiming more than an equal
ihare in the direction of the household, was another (and less
agreeable) creature, in comparison with her former self. Of
late, she had grown more than usually irritable and unsatisfied,
and, although he had kindly ascribed the fact to housekeeping
perplexities, his patience was sorely tried. There was no
remedy but endurance, so far as he could see. It was impos-
sible, now, to change his convictions in regard to woman's
rights, and he was too sincere to allow the practice of his life
to be inconsistent with them.
When he returned at noon from a distant field, where he had
been engaged all the morning, he was surprised to find the
carriage still at home, although his man Henry was engaged
in greasing the hubs of the wheels. " Why, Sarah," said he,
as he sat down to dinner, " I thought you would have been
off."
" I couldn't get ready," she answered, rather sullenly. " But
I need not come back to-night. It will be better for Jinny,
anyhow."
Mr. Dyce was unusually talkative on the subject of the Com-
munity, the charms of which he painted in the liveliest colors.
Mis host was tired of the subject, but listened with an air of
tolerance, as he was so soon to get rid of the speaker.
Bidding the latter good-by, immediately after dinner, he
saddled his horse and rode to Mulligan svi lie. The new cow
met his requirements, and a bargain was soon concluded. She
was to be brought to the farm next day, when the price agreed
upon would be paid. Mr. Merry field had adopted the seusibl*
A STOKY OF AMERICAN LIFK. 207
rule of defraying all such expenses as they arose. Hence his
crops were never mortgaged in advance, and fey waiting until
they could be sold to the best advantage, he prospered from
year to year.
When he reached home again, it was nearly four o'clock
Putting up his horse, he entered the house and went directly
U> the old-fashioned mixture of book-case, writing-desk, and
chest of drawers, which stood in a corner of the sitting-room.
He must make a note of the purchase, and, since he was alone,
might as well spend an hour, he thought, in looking over his
papers and making his calculations for the summer.
He was very methodical in his business arrangements, and
the desk was in such perfect order that he always knew the
exact place of each particular paper. This was one of the
points of controversy with his wife, which he never yielded :
he insisted that she should not open the desk in his absence.
This time, however, as he seated himself, drew out the sap
ports for the lid, and let it down upon them, his exact eye
showed him that something had been disturbed. The papers
in one of the pigeon-holes projected a little further than usual,
and the corners were not square as they should be. Besides,
the pile appeared to be diminished in height. He knew every
paper the pigeon-hole contained, took them out and ran rapid-
ly through them. One was missing ! an envelope, containing
bonds of the New York Central Railroad, to the amount of
three thousand dollars, the private property of his wife. It
was the investment of a sum which she had inherited at hei
father's death, made in her own name, and the interest of
which she had always received for her separate use.
He leaned back in his chair, thunderstruck at the discovery
Could one of the servants have taken the envelope ? Impossi
ble. Dyce ? how should he know where to find it ? Evi-
dently, nothing else had been touched. Had his wife, perhaps,
taken it with her, to draw the semi-annual interest at Tiberius?
It was not yet due. Mechanically, hardly conscious of what he
suspected or feared, he arose and went up-stairs. In the bed-
^08 HANNAH THURSTON .
room which Dyce had last occupied, every thing was in order
He passed into his own, opening closets and wardrobes, ex-
pecting either to find or miss something which might enlight-
en him. In his wife's wardrobe three pegs, upon which dresses
had hung, were empty. He jerked open, in haste, the draw-
ers of her bureau : many things had apparently been removed.
Closing them again, he raised his head, and a little note, stick-
ing among the bristles of the hair-brush, which lay on its back
in front of the looking-glass, caught his eye. He seized it ; un-
folded it with shaking hands, put on his spectacles and road.
There were but two lines :
" Send to Tiberius for the carriage. I am going to the
Community."
It was a hard blow for the poor man. The idea of conjugal
infidelity on the part of his wife was simply incredible, and no
suspicion of that nature entered his mind. It was a deliberate
case of desertion, and the abstraction of the bonds indicated
that it was meant to be final. What her motives were, he
could only guess at in a confused way ; but he knew that she
would never, of her own accord, have determined upon a course
so mad and ruinous. Many things were suddenly clear to him.
The evil influence of Dyce, strengthened by his assumed pow-
er, as a medium, of bringing her children near to her ; the mag-
netic strength, morbid though it was, of the man's words and
presence ; the daily opportunities of establishing some intan-
gible authority over the wife, during her husband's absence,
until she became, finally, the ignorant slave of his will all this,
or the possibility of it, presented itself to Merryfield's mind in
a rush of dim and tangled impressions. He had neither the
time nor the power to unravel them, but he felt that there was
truth at the core. Following this conviction came the deter
mination lo save her yes ! save her at once. There was no
time to be lost. Tiberius was eighteen miles distant, and they
could not yet have arrived there. He must follow instantly,
and overtake them, if possible, before the departure of the train
from the west.
A STOftY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 209
Why was lie delaying there ? The ten minutes that he had
been standing, motionless, in the centre of the room, with the
note in his hand, his eyes mechanically reading the two linea
over and over, until the first terrible chaos of his feelings sub-
sided, had lengthened themselves into hours. Breaking the
ipell at last, he drew a long breath, which resolved itself into
i groan, and lifted his head. The little looking-glass on the
bureau was before him: moving a step nearer, he examined his
own face with a pitiful curiosity. It looked old and haggard ;
the corners of his mouth were rigidly drawn and tightened, and
the pinched nostrils twitched in spite of himself, but his eyes
were hard and dry.
" It don't make much difference in my looks, after all," he
said to himself, with a melancholy laugh ; and the next instant
the eyes overflowed.
After this brief outbreak, he recovered some strength and
steadiness, and rapidly arranged in his mind what was first to
be done. Taking off his work-day clothes, he put on a better
suit, and descended the stairs. Calling to the servant-girl in
the kitchen, he informed her, in a voice which he strove to
make natural and unconcerned, that he was suddenly obliged
to visit Tiberius on business, but would return the next day,
with his wife. He left directions with her for Henry, the
field-hand, regarding the morrow's work, then resaddled his
horse and rode rapidly to Ptolemy.
On the way, his thoughts involuntarily went in advance, and
he endeavored to prefigure the meeting with his wife. It was
impossible for him, however, to decide what course he should
pursue in case she should persist in her determination. It was
not enough to overtake her ; he must be armed at all points
to subdue and reclaim her. She had a stubborn power of re-
iistance with which he was well acquainted ; and, moreover,
Dyce would be ready enough to assist her. He foreboded his
own helplessness in such a case, though the right was on hia
Bide and the flagrant wrong on hers.
"It's my own fault, 1 ' be groaned, bitterly j "I've given
210 ttANNA.II THUKSTO?*!
way to her so long that I've lost ray rightful influence orei
her."
One means of help suggested itself to his mind, and was
immediately accepted. Leaving his horse at the livery stable,
and ordering a fast, fresh animal and a light buggy to be sent
to the Cimmerian Parsonage, he proceeded thither on foot.
Mr Waldo was in his " study," which was one corner of
his wife's sitting-room. He was engaged in an epistolary con
trove rsy with a clergyman of the Free-will Baptists, occasion-
ally reading aloud a paragraph as he wrote. His wife, busiry
at work in remaking an old dress, listened and commended.
They were both startled by the entrance of Mr. Merryfield,
whose agitation was apparent in his face, and still more so in
his voice, as he greeted them.
" Whai has happened ?" exclaimed Mrs. Waldo.
" I don't hardly know, as yet," he stammered. " I want
your help, Mr. Waldo. Come with me I'm going to Tiberius.
My wife" Here he paused, blushing with utter shame
for her.
" Would you rather speak to my husband alone ?" said Mrs.
Waldo, rising from her seat.
" No, you must hear the rest, now," he answered. " You're
a good woman, Mrs. Waldo good and true, and perhaps you,
too, can help. Sarah wants to leave me, and I must bring her
back I must, this night."
He then told them, briefly and brokenly, his painful story.
Amazement and pity filled the hearts of the two good people,
who felt his misfortune almost as keenly as if it were their
own. Mrs. Waldo commenced making the few preparations
necessary for her husband's departure, even before his consent
wad uttered. When the team was announced as ready, sb
took Mi. Merryfield's hand and bade him God-speed, with tears
in her eyes. The poor man was too much moved to reply,
Then, catching her husband's arm, as he was issuing from th
room, she whispered earnestly, "No harshness I know her:
she must be coaxed and persuaded."
A STORY OF AMEKICAN LIFE. 211
" J wish it were you who were going, my good wife," said
Mr. Waldo, kissing her ; ''you would make no mistake. Bui
be sure that I will act tenderly and carefully."
They drove uway. She watched them turn the next coiner,
and went into the house powerfully excited by such a sudder
and singular catastrophe. Her quick, intuitive mind, and her
knowledge of Mrs. Merryfield's weak points, enabled her to
comprehend the action more correctly than the husband him
self. This very knowledge was the source of her gieatest
anxiety ; for she saw that the success of the journey hung by
a hair. Having already committed herself, Mrs. Merryfield,
she foresaw, would not give up her plan from the discovery
of it, merely. She was not the woman to fall at her husband's
feet, repentant, at the first sight of him, and meekly return to
her forsaken home. The utmost tact would be required tact
of a kind, of which, with all her respect for the sex, she felt
that a man was not capable.
The more she pondered on the matter, the more restless
and anxious she grew. Her husband's last words remained
in her ears : " You would make no mistake." That was not
certain, but she would make none, she knew, which could not
at once be rectified. An inner voice continually said to her,
" Go !" Her unrest became at last insupportable ; she went
to the stable, and harnessed their horse to the old gig with her
own hands. Then taking her shawl, and thrusting some re-
freshments into a basket for she would not delay even long
enough to make a cup of tea she clambered into the creaking
vehicle, and drove off.
Mrs. Waldo, however, like many good women whose moral
courage is equal to any emergency, was in some respects a
ridiculous coward. Even in company with her husband, she
never passed along the country roads, at night, without an in-
cessant sensation of fear, which had no positive shape, and
therefore could not be battled against. It was now six o'clock,
and the darkness would be upon her long before she could
reach Tiberius. The thought of making the journey alone,
212 HANNAU TIIUKSTON:
was dreadful ; if the suspended fate of the Merryfr/ds was ta
be decided by her alone, she would have been aliaost readj
to hesitate. There was but one person in Ptolemy to whom
she dared tell the story, and who was equally authorized with
herself, to go that person was Hannah Thurston.
All these thoughts passed through her mind, and her reso-
lution was taken, while she was harnessing the horse. She
Irove at once to the Widow Thurston's cottage, and was for-
tunate enough to find her and her daughter at their early tea
Summoning them into the next room, out of ear-shot of the
little servant, she communicated the story and her request hi
the fewest possible words. She left them no time to recover
from the news. " Don't stop to consider, Hannah," she said,
" we can talk on the way. There is not a moment to lose."
Miss Thurston hesitated, overcome by a painful perplexity.
The matter had been confided to her, without the knowledge
of the principal actors, and she was not sure that her unex-
pected appearance before them would lead to good. Besides,
Mrs. Merryfield's act was utterly abhorrent to all her womanly
instincts, and her virgin nature shrank from an approach to it,
even in the way of help. She stood irresolute.
The widow saw what was passing in her mind. " I know
bow thee feels, Hannah," said she, " and I would not advise
thee, if thy way were not cleai to my mind. I feel that it is
right for thee to go. The Saviour took the hand of the fallen
woman, and thee may surely take Sarah's hand to save her,
maybe, from falling. Now, when thy gift may be of service
now is the time to use it freely. Something tells me that
thy help will not be altogether in vain."
" I will go, mother," the daughter replied. " Thy judg-
ment is safer than mine."
In five minutes more the two women were on their way.
The loveliest evening sunshine streamed across the valley,
brightening the meadows and meadow-trees, and the long,
curving sweep of the eastern hill. The vernal grass, which, in
its flowering season, has a sweeter breath than the roses of Gu-
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 213
Us tan, was cut in many places, and lay in balmy windrows. The
air was still and warm, and dragon-flies, emitting blue and
emerald gleams from their long wings, hovered in zigzag lines
along the brooksides. Now and then a thrush fluted from
the alder-thickets, or an oriole flashed like a lighted brand
through the shadows of the elms. The broad valley basked
in the lazy enjoyment of its opulent summer hues ; and what
ever sounds arose from its bosom, they all possessed a tone of
passive content or active joy. But the travellers felt nothing
of all this beauty : that repose of the spiritual nature, in which
the features of the external world are truly recognized, had
been rudely disturbed.
They passed the Merryfield farm-house. How sadly at vari-
ance with its sunny air of peace was the tragic secret of its
owners, which the two women carried with them ! The huge
weeping willow trailed its hanging masses of twigs against the
gable, and here and there a rose-tree thrust its arm through
the white garden paling and waved a bunch of crimson, as if
to say : " Come in and see how we are blooming !" Towards
the barn, the field-hand was letting down bars for the waiting
cows, and the servant-girl issued from the kitchen-door with
her tin milk-kettle, as they gazed. What a mockery it all
seemed!
A little further, and the cataract thundered on their right.
All below the rocky wall lay in shadow, but the trees on its
crest were still touched by the sun, and thin wreaths of spray,
whirling upward, were suddenly converted into dust of gold.
Hannah Thurston looked up at the silent grove, and shuddered
as she recalled the picture she had last seen there. The brook
could never again wear to her its former aspect of wayward,
impetuous jubilation. Under its green crystal and glassy
lides lurked an element of terror, of pitiless cruelty. Yet
even the mirmtes of agonizing suspense she had there endured
were already softened in her memory, and seemed less terribl*
than the similar trial which awaited her.
Near the entrance to Lakeside they met B to "Wilson, with
214 HANNAH TIIURSTON:
a yoke of oxen. He recognized the old gig, and with a loud
' Haw, Buck, come hither !" drew his team off the road."
" Takin' a drive, are ye ? How d'you do, Mrs. Waldo-
Miss Hannah ?"
" Good -evening, Bute !" said Mrs. Waldo. "How is Mr
Woodbury? 1 hope he has not suffered from being so long
in the water."
" Bless you, no ! Mr. Max. is as sound as a roach. He rid
over to Tiberius this afternoon. I say, wasn't it lucky that
jist he should ha' come along at the right time ?" Bute's face
glowed with pride and delight.
" It was Providential : good-by !"
Slowly climbing the long ravine, through dark woods, it
was after sunset when they reached the level of the upland.
The village of Anacreon soon came in sight, and they drove
rapidly through, not wishing to be recognized. Beyond this
point the road was broad, straight, and firm, and they could
make better progress. A low arch of orange light lingered
in the west, but overhead the larger stars came out, one after
another. Belts of warm air enveloped them on the heights,
but the dusky hollows were steeped in grateful coolness, and
every tree by the roadside gave out its own peculiar odor.
The ripe, antique breath of the oak, the honeyed bitter of the
tulip-tree, and the perfect balsam of the hickory, were breathed
upon them in turn. A few insects still chirped among the
clover, and the unmated frogs serenaded, by fits, their reluctant
sweethearts. At one of the farm-houses they passed, a girl,
eated in the porch, was singing :
" We have lived and loved together,
Through, many changing years."
Every circumstance seemed to conspire, by involuntary con-
trast, to force the difficult and painful task they had under-
taken more distinctly upon their minds. After Mrs. Waldo
bad imparted all she knew, with her own conjectures of the
A 8TOfcY OF AACERICAJf LIFE. 315
causes of the desertion, both women were silent for a long
time, feeling, perhaps, that it was impossible to arrange, in
advance, any plan of action. They must trust to the sugges-
tions which the coming interview would supply.
" I cannot understand it," said Hannah Thurston, at last.
* After BO many years of married life after having children
born to them, and lost, uniting them by the more sacred bond
)f sorrow how is it possible? They certainly loved each
other : what has become of her love ?"
" She has it somewhere, yet, you may be sure," said Mrs.
Waldo. " She is weak and foolish, but she does not mean to
be criminal. Dyce is a dangerous man, and he has led her to
the step. No other man she knows could have done it."
" Can she love him ?"
" Probably not. But a strong, unscrupulous man who
knows our sex, Hannah, has a vast power which most women
do not understand. He picks up a hundred little threads of
weakness, each of which is apparently insignificant, and
twists them into a chain. He surprises us at times when our
judgment is clouded, his superior reason runs in advance of
our thoughts and we don't think very hard, you know and
will surely bind us hand and foot, unless some new personality
comes in to interrupt him. We women are governed by per-
sonal influences there is no use in denying the fact. And
men, of course, have the strongest."
" I have sometimes feared as much," said Hannah Thurston,
sadly, "but is it not owing to a false education? Are not
women trained to consider themselves inferior, and thus de-
pendent? Do not the daughters learn the lesson of their
mothers, and the fathers impress the opposite lesson on their
sons ?"
" 1 know what you mean, and you are partly right. But
that is not ail. There are superior women whom we look up
o look up to you, Hannah, who are, intellectually, t:o far
sbo^'c me but they never impress us with the same sense of
I wer, oi protecting capacity, that we feel in the presence of
HANNAH THURSTON:
almost any man. It is something I cannot explain a sort of
physical magnetism, I suppose. I respect men : I like them
because they are men, I am not ashamed to confess : and I ain
cot humiliated as a woman, by acknowledging the difference n
" Habit and tradition !" Hannah Thurston exclaimed.
" I know you witt think so, Hannah, and I am not able to an-
swer you. When I hear you speak, sometimes, every word you
ay seems just and true, but my instincts, as a woman, remain
the same. Your life has been very different from mine, and
perhaps you have taken, without knowing it, a sort of warlike
position towards men, and have wilfully resisted their natural
influence over you. For your sake, I have often longed and
you must pardon me, if I ought not to say such a thing that
some man, in every respect worthy of you, should come to
know you as you are, and love you, and make you his wife."
" Don't don't speak of that," she whispered.
" I couldn't help it, to-night, dear," Mrs. Waldo soothingly
replied. " I have been thinking as I came along, what cause
I have to thank God for having given me a good and faithful
husband. / should never have been happy as a single womaii,
and for that reason, no doubt, your life seems imperfect to
me. But we cannot always judge the hearts of others by our
own."
By this time the glimmering arch of summer twilight had
settled behind the hills, and only the stars lighted them on
their way. The road stretched before them like a dusky
band, between the shapeless darkness of woods and fields, on
either side. Indistinct murmurs of leaves and rustlings among
the grass began to be heard, and at every sound Mrs. Waldo
started nervously.
" Was there ever such a coward as I am ! " she exclaimed,
in a low voice. " If you were not with me, I should go wild
with fear. Do you suppose any man in the world is so
timid ?"
" There, again, I cannot judge," Miss Thurston answered.
"I only know that I am never alarmed at night, and that thii
A STORY QV AMERICAN LtFE. 217
journey would be a perfect enjoyment, if we were not going
on such an unfortunate errand."
"I always knew you were an exception among women.
Your nerves are like a man's, but mine are altogether feminine,
and I can't help myself."
The horse stopped at a toll-gate. They were only two
miles from Tiberius, and the road descended the greater part
of the way. Mrs. Waldo recovered her courage, for the
houses were now more thickly scattered, and the drive would
soon be at an end. The old horse, too, had by this time recog-
nized the extent of his task, and determined to get through
wun it. They rattled rapidly onwards, and from the next rise
saw the lights of the town, twinkling around the foot of
Atauga Lake.
As they reached the suburban belt, where every square,
flat-roofed, chocolate-colored villa stood proudly in the centre
of its own square plot of ground, Hannah Thurston asked:
" Where shall we go ?"
" Bless me, I never thought of that. But I think my hus-
band generally stops at ' The Eagle,' and we can at least leave
the horse there. Then we must try to find him and the
others. I think our best plan would be to go to the railroad
station."
The gardens and villas gradually merged into the irregular,
crowded buildings which lined the principal street. Many
stores were open, the side-walks were lively with people,
transparencies gleamed before ice-cream saloons, and gas-
lamps burned brilliantly at the corners.
" What time is it ?" asked Mrs. Waldo.
Hannah Thurston looked at her watch. "A quarter pasJ
tine."
" We have made good time," said her companion; "Heaves
grant that we are not too late !"
10
HA3TNAH THUK8TOV:
CHAPTER
WHICH SOLVES THE PRECEDING ONB.
M.i6. MERRYFIELD, on forsaking her home, had not anticipated
the possibility of an immediate pursuit. She supposed, of
course, that her husband would first discover her intention the
next morning, when he would have occasion to use the hair-
brush. He would then, sooner or later, she believed, follow
h'ir to the Community, where the sight of a Perfect Society,
of an Eden replanted on the Earth, would not only eonvincu
him of the wisdom of her act, but compel him to imitate it.
If their convictions had been reversed, and he had desired to
try the new social arrangement, could he not have done so
with impunity, regardless of her opposition? Then, their
rights being equal, why should she consult his pleasure ?
Thus she reasoned, or, rather, Dyce reasoned for her. She
was a very weak and foolish woman, afflicted with that worst
of temperaments which is at the same time peevish and stub-
bo. n, and did not at all appreciate the gravity of the step she
had taken. An inner voice, indeed, told her that its secrecy
was unjustifiable that she should openly and boldly declare
her intention to her husband ; but her base friend easily per-
suaded her that it vas better to draw him after her wlen she
had reached the Community, and settle the difference there.
His own eyes would then convince him of her wisdom : oppo-
sition would be impossible, with the evidence before him. She
would thus spare herself a long and perhaps fruitless encounter
of opinions, which, owing to the finer organization of her
spiritual nature, she ought to avoid. Such differences, he
said, disturbed the atmosphere in which spirits most readily
A STORY OF AMERICAN LUTE. 218
approacned aid communicated with her. In the pure and
harmonious life of the Community, she might perhaps attain tc
the condition of a medium, and be always surrounded by ail
gelic company.
The afternoon was hot and they drove slowly, so that even
before they reached Tiberius, the two parties of pursuers were
on the way. Just as they entered the town, Mr. Woodbury
passed the carriage on horseback. Glancing at its occupants,
he recognized Mrs. Merryfield, bowed, and reined in his horse
as if to speak, but seeing Dyce, his cordial expression became
suddenly grave, and he rode on. This encounter troubled
Mrs. Merryfield. A secret uneasiness had been growing upon
her during the latter part of the way, and Woodbury's look
inspired her with a vague fear. She involuntarily hoped that
she might not meet him again, or any one she knew, before
leaving Tiberius. She would not even visit Mrs. Nevins, aa
she had proposed. Moreover, Woodbury would probably put
up at the hotel which she and her husband usually visited.
Another must be selected, and she accordingly directed Dyce
to drive through the town to a tavern on its northern side, not
far from the railroad station.
At half-past eight in the evening her husband and Mr.
Waldo alighted in front of " The Eagle." As the former was
giving orders about the horse to the attendant ostler, Wood-
bury came down the steps and immediately recognized the
new arrivals.
" What !" he exclaimed, " is all Ptolemy coming to Tiberius
to-day ? Your wife has the start of you, Mr. Merryfield : I
passed her this-evening"
A violent grasp on his arm interrupted him. " Where if
he ? Have they left ?" the husband hoarsely asked.
The light from the corner-lamp fell full upon his face. Its
expression of pain and anxiety was unmistakable, and a pre
sentiment of the incredible truth shot through Woodbury'i
mind.
"Hush, my friend!" said Mr. Waldo. "Control yourself
220 llAJSNAii TliUKSTON :
while we register our names, and then we will go to work
It is fortunate that you have betrayed yourself to Mr. Wood-
bury instead of some one else. Come with us !" he added,
turning to the latter ; " you must now know the rest. We
can trust every thing to your honor."
They entered the office of the hotel. Merryfield, after
.Irinking a large tumbler of ice-water, recovered some degree
of composure. Mr. Waldo ascertained from the landlord that
the next train for the east would leave at midnight, the pre-
vious train having left at five o'clock. Woodbury, seeing the
necessity of a private understanding, invited them both to his
room, where the whole affair was explained to him, and he
was able to assure them, by recalling the hour of his own ar-
rival, that Dyce and Mrs. Merryfield must be still in the town.
" We have three hours," said he, "and they must be found
in half the time. There must not be a meeting at the station.
Have you no idea, Mr. Merryfield, where your wife would go ?"
" She spoke of visiting Mrs. Nevins, as it were," he replied.
" Then it is quite unlikely that she is there," said Woodbury.
" But we must first settle the point. Let us go at once : where
is the house ?"
Merryfield led the way, much supported and encouraged by
Woodbury's prompt, energetic manner. He had now less
dread of the inevitable encounter with Dyce.
A walk of ten minutes brought them to the Kevins mansion.
It was a small villa, with a Grecian portico, seated in a diminu
live garden. There was a light in the front room. Mr.
Waldo was unacquainted with the inmates, and afraid to
allow Merryfield to entei the house alone. There was a
moment of perplexity.
" I have it," said Woodbury, suddenly. " Move on a littj*,
and wait for me." He boldly entered the garden and stepped
upon the Grecian portico. The windows had muslin curtains
across their lower half, but he easily looked over them into
if, -e room. A middle-aged woman, in a rocking-chair, was
knitting some worsted stuff with a pair of wooden needles,
A STOBiT OF AilKlUCAJtf LIFE. 221
On the other side of the lamp, with his back to her, sat a man,
absorbed in a newspaper. A boy of ten years old lay asleep
on the carpet. Noting all this at a glance, Woodbury knocked
at the door. A rustling of the newspaper followed, footsteps
entered the hall, and the outer door was opened.
Woodbury assumed a natural air of embarrassed disappoint
ment, " I am afraid," said he, " that I have made a mistake.
Does Mr. Israel Thompson live here?"
" Israel Thompson ? I don't know any such person. There's
James Thompson, lives further down the street, on the other
side."
" Thank you. I will inquire of him. I am a stranger here,"
and he rejoined his friends. " Now," said he, " to save time,
Mr. Waldo, you and I must visit the other hotels, dividing
them between us. Mr. Merryfield had better not take any part
in the search. Let him wait for us on the corner opposite
' The Eagle.' We can make our separate rounds in twenty
minutes, and I am sure we shall have discovered them by that
time."
An enumeration of the hotels was made, and the two gen-
tlemen divided them in such a manner as to economize tune
in making their rounds. They then set out in different direc-
tions, leaving Merryfield to walk back alone to the rendezvous.
Hitherto, the motion and excitement of the pursuit had kept
him up, but now he began to feel exhausted and desponding.
He had not eaten since noon, and experienced all the weakness
without the sensation of hunger. A powerful desire for an
artificial stimulant came over him, and, for a moment, he halted
before the red light of a drinking-saloon, wondering whether
there was any one inside who could recognize him. The door
opened, and an atmosphere of rank smoke, tobacco-soaked saw-
dust, and pungent whiskey gushed out ; oaths and fragments
of obscene talk met his ears, and he hurried away in disgust.
At "The Eagle" he fortified himself again with ice-water,
and then took his stand on the opposite corner, screened from
the lamp-light by an awning-post.
222 HANNAH THUKSTON:
The late storekeepers up and down the street were putting
ap their shutters, but the ice-cream transparencies still shone
brightly, and the number of visitors rather increased than di
minished. From a neighboring house came the sound of a
piano, and presently a loud, girlish voice which sang : " I dreamt
that I dwe-helt in ma-harble halls." What business, he
thought, had people to be eating ice-cream and singing songs ?
It was an insulting levity. How long a time his friends had
been absent ! A terrible fear came over him what if he
should not find his wife ? At night no, he dared not think
of i' He looked down the crossing streets, in all four direc-
tions, as far as his eye could pierce, and inspected the approach-
ing figures. Now he was sure he recognized Woodbury'a
commanding form; now the brisk gait of the short clergy-
man. But they came nearer and resolved themselves into
strangers. Then he commenced again, striving to keep an
equal watch on all the streets. The appointed time was past,
and they did not come ! A cold sweat began to gather on
his forehead, and he was ready to despair. All at once, Mr
Waldo appeared, close at hand, and hurried up to him, breath-
less.
" I have finished my list," said he.
"Have you found them?"
"No, but what does this mean!" cried the clergyman,
starting. " That is my horse, certainly and the old gig !
Can my wife"
He did not finish the sentence, but sprang into the streel
and called. The horse turned his head from a sudden jerk of
the linoF, and in a moment was drawn up beside the pave-
ment.
" H rff glad I am we have met you ! I could not stay at
home, indeed. You will let us help, will you not? Are wo
in time ?" cried Mrs. W^ldo, apology, entreaty, and anxiety
all mingling in her voice.
*' With God's favor, we are still in time," her husband an>
s \vured.
A STOBY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 222
" I lhank you for coming you and Hannah, both," Merry-
field sadly added, " but I'm afraid it's no use."
" Cheer up," said the clergyman, " Mr. Woodbury will b
here in a moment."
" He is here already," said Woodbury, joining them at the
Instant. "I have " He paused, recognizing the gig and
its occupants, and looked inquiringly at Mr. Waldo.
i: They know it," answered the latter, " and for that reason
they have come."
" Brave women ! We may need their help. I have found
the persons we are looking for at the Beaver House, in the
second-story parlor, waiting for the midnight train."
" Then drive on, wife," said Mr. Waldo ; " you can put up the
horse there. You are known at the Eagle, and we had better
avoid curiosity. Follow us : Mr. Woodbury will lead the way."
They passed up the street, attracting no notice, as the con-
nection between the movements of the women in the gig, and
the three men on the sidewalk, was not apparent. In a short
time they reached the Beaver House, a second-rate hotel, with
a deserted air, on a quiet street, and near the middle of the
block. T\vo or three loafers were in the office, half sliding
out of the short arm-chairs as they lounged, and lazily talk-
ing. Woodbury called the landlord to the door, gave the
horse into his charge, and engaged a private room until mid-
night. There was one, he had already ascertained, adjoining
the parlor on the second story. He offered liberal pay, pro-
vided no later visitors were thrust upon them, and the landlord
was very willing to make the arrangement. It was not often
that he received so much patronage in one evening.
After a hurried consultation, in whispers, they entered the
house. The landlord preceded them up-stairs with a lamp,
and ushered them into the appointed room. It was a smaU
oblong chamber, the floor decorated with a coarse but very
gaudy carpet, and the furniture covered with shiny hair-cloth,
very cold, and stiff, and slippery. There was a circular table
of mahogany, upon which lay a Bible, and the Odd-Fellow 1 !
224 HAfraAn THUBSTON:
Annual, bound in red. Beside it was a huge spittoon of brown
stone- ware. Folding-doors connected with the adjoining par-
lor, and the wood- work, originally of unseasoned pine, gotten
up without expense but regardless of durability, was sc
warped and sprung that these doors would not properly close.
Privacy, so far as conversation was concerned, was impossible.
In fact, no sooner had the landlord departed, and the noise oi
entrance subsided a little, than Dyce's voice was distinctly
heard :
" You should overcome your restlessness. All pioneers in
great works have their moments of doubt, but they are caused
by the attacks of evil spirits."
Merryfield arose in great agitation. Perhaps he would have
spoken, but Mr. Waldo lifted his hand to command silence,
beckoned to his wife, and the three left the room. At the
door the clergyman turned and whispered to Woodbury and
Hannah Thurston : " You may not be needed : wait until I
summon you."
The next instant he knocked on the door of the parlor.
Dyce's voice replied : " Come in." He entered first, followed
by his wife, and, last of all, the injured husband. Dyce and
Mrs. Merryfield were seated side by side, on a sofa. Both, as
by an involuntary impulse, rose to their feet. The latter
turned very pale ; her knees trembled under her, and she sank
down again upon her seat. Dyce, however, remained stand-
ing, and, after the first surprise was over, regained his brazen
effrontery.
Merryfield was the first to speak. "Sarah," he cried,
* What does this mean ?"
She turned her head towards the window, and made no
answer.
" Mrs. Merryfield," said Mr. "Waldo, gravely, yet with no
harshness in his tone, " we have come, as your friends, be-
lieving that you have taken this step hastily, and without con-
sidering what its consequences would be. We do not think
you appreciate its solemn importance, both for time and for
A STOET OF AMEBICAN LIFE. 225
eternity. It is not yet too late to undo what you have doncj
nd we are ready to help you, in all kindness and tenderness."
"I want nothing more than my rights," said Mrs. Merry-
field, in a hard, stubborn voice, without turning ner head.
" I will never interfere with your just rights, as a woman, a
wife, and an immortal soul," the clergyman replied. " But
you have not alone rights to receive : you have duties to per-
form. You have bound yourself to your husband in holy
marriage ; you cannot desert him, whose faith to you has never
been broken, who now stands ready to pardon your present
fault, as he has pardoned all your past ones, without incurring
a greater sin than infidelity to him. Your married relation
includes both the moral laws by which society is bound, and
the Divine laws by which we are saved."
" The usual cant of theologians !" interrupted Dyce, with a
sneer. " Mrs. Merryfield owes nothing to the selfish and arti-
ficial machinery which is called Society. Marriage is a part
of the machinery, and just as selfish as the rest. She claims
equal rights with her husband, and is doing no more than he
would do, if he possessed all of her convictions."
" I would never do it !" cried Merryfield, " not for all the
Communities in the world ! Sarah, I've been faithful to you,
in every thought, since you first agreed to be my wife. If I've
done you wrong in any way, tell me!"
" I only want nay rights," she repeated, still looking away.
" If you really think you are deprived of them," said Mr.
Waldo, " come home with us, and you shall be fairly heard
and fairly judged. I promise you, as an impartial friend, that
no advantage shall be taken of your mistake: you shall be
treated as if it had not occurred. Have you reflected how
this act will be interpreted, in the eyes of the world ? Can
you bear, no matter how innocent you may be, to be lollowed,
through all the rest of your life, by the silent suspicion, if not
the open reproach, of the worst shame that can happen to
woman? Suppose you reach your Community. These ex-
periments have often been tri<d. and they have always failed,
10*
226 HANNAH THURSTON:
You might hide yourself for a while from the judgment of t he
world, but if the association should break to pieces what
then ? Does the possession of some right which you fancy is
withheld, compensate you for incurring this fearful risk nay,
for euauring this fearful certainty ?"
" What do you know about it ?" Dyce roughly exclaimed,
" You, a petrified fossil of the false Society ! What right have
you to judge for her? She acts from motives which your
narrow mind cannot comprehend. She is a disciple of the
Truth, and is not afraid to show it in her life. If she lived
only for the sake of appearances, like the rest of you, she
might still be a Vegetable !"
Mrs. Merryfield, who had colored suddenly and violently, as
the clergyman spoke, and had turned her face towards him, for
a moment, with an agitation which she could not conceal, now
lifted her head a little, and mechanically rocked on her lap a
travelling-satchel, which she had grasped with both hands.
She felt her own inability to defend herself, and recovered a
little courage at hearing it done so fiercely by her com-
panion.
Mr. Waldo, without noticing the latter, turned to her again.
" I will not even condemn the motives which lead you to this
step," said he, " but I must show you its inevitable conse-
quences. Only the rarest natures, the most gifted intellects,
may seem to disregard the ruling habits and ideas of man-
kind, because God has specially appointed them to some great
work. You know, Mrs. Merryfield, as well as I do, that you
are not one of such. The world will make no exception in
your favor. It cannot put our kindly and tolerant construe
tion upon your motives : it will be pitiless and inflexible, and
its verdict will crush you to the dust."
"Sarah," said her husband, more in pity than in reproach,
* do stop and think what you are doing ! What Mr. Waldo
says is true : you will bring upon yourself more than you can
bear, or I can bear for you. I don't charge you with any
thing wrong; I don't believe you would be guilty of of I
A STORY Of AMERICAN LIFE. 227
Can't say it but I couldn't hold up my head, as as it were,
and defend you by a single word."
" Oh, no ! of course you couldn't !" Dyce broke in again,
with an insufferable impudence. " You know, as well as I do,
or Mr. Waldo, for that matter, what men are. Don't brag
to me about your morality, and purity, and all that sort of
humbug: what's fit for one sex is fit for the other. Men, yot<
know, have a natural monopoly in the indulgence of passion :
it's allowed to them, but woman is damned by the very sus-
picion. You know, both of you, that any man would as lief
be thought wicked as chaste that women are poor, ignorant
fools"
One of the folding-doors which communicated with the ad-
joining room was suddenly torn open, and Woodbury ap-
peared. His brown eyes, flashing indignant fire, were fixed
upon Dyce. The sallow face of the latter grew livid with
mingled emotions of rage and fear. With three strides,
Woodbury was before him.
" Stop !" he cried, " you have been allowed to say too much
already. If yow," he added, turning to the others, " have
patience with this beast, I have not."
" Ah ! he thinks he's among his Sepoys," Dyce began, but
was arrested by a strong hand upon his collar. Woodbury's
face was pale, but calm, and his lips parted in a smile, the
expression of which struck terror to the heart of the medium.
"Now, leave !" said he, in a low, stern voice, "leave, or I
hurl you through that window !" Relinquishing his grasp on
the collar, he opened the door leading to the staircase, and
waited. For a moment, the eyes of the two men met, and in
that moment each took the measure of the other. Dyce's
figure seemed to contract ; his breast narrowed, his shoulders
fell, and his knees approached each other. He walked slowly
and awkwardly to the end of the sofa, picked up his valise,
and shuffled out of the room without saying a word. Wood-
bury followed him to the door, and said, before he closed it.
" Recollect, you leave here by the midnight train." Nona
128 HANXAII TUUESTON:
of those who heard it had any doubt that the command would
be obeyed.
Mr. Merryfield experienced an unbounded sensation of reliel
on Dyce's departure ; but his wife was only frightened, not
conquered. Although pale and trembling, she stubbornly held
out, her attitude expressing her collective defiance of the com-
pany. She avoided directly addressing or meeting the eye*
of any one in particular. For a few moments there was silence
in the room, and she took advantage of it to forestall the
appeals which she knew would be made, by saying :
" Well, now you've got me all to yourselves, I suppose you'll
try to bully me out of my rights."
" "We have no intention to meddle with any of your rights,
as a wife," Mr. Waldo answered. "You must settle that
question with your husband. But does not your heart tell
you that he has rights, as well ? And what has he done to
justify you in deserting him ?"
" He needn't be deserted," she said ; " he can come after me."
"Never !" exclaimed her husband. " If you leave me now,
and in this way, Sarah, you will not see me again until you
voluntarily come back to me. And think, if you go to that
place, what you must then seem to me ! I've defended you,
Sarah, and will defend you against all the world ; but if you
go on, you'll take the power of doing it away from me.
Whether you deserve shame, or not, it'll come to you and
it'll come to me, just the same."
The deluded wife could make no reply. The consequences
of her step, if persisted in, were beginning to dawn upon hei
mind, but, having defended it on the ground of her equal
rights as a woman, a pitiful vanity prevented her from yield-
Ing. It was necessary, therefore, to attack hei' from anothei
quarter. Hannah Thurston felt that the moment had arrived
when she might venture to speak, and went gently forward tc
the sofa.
" Sarah," she said, " I think you feel that I am your friend;
you not believe me, then, when I say to you that w
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 229
have ali followed you. prompted only by the pity and distress
which we feel for your sake and your husband's ? We beg
you not to leave us, your true friends, and go among strangers.
Listen to us calmly, and if we convince you that you are mis-
taken, the admission should not be difficult."
" You, too, Hannah !" cried Mrs. Merryfield. " You, that
taught me what my rights were ! Will you confess, first, that
you are mistaken ?"
An expression of pain passed over Hannah Thurston's face.
" 1 never meant to claim more than natural justice for woman,"
said she, " but I may have been unhappy in my advocacy of it.
I may even," turning towards Mrs. Waldo, " have seemed to
assume a hostile position towards man. If so, it was a mis-
take. If what I have said has prompted you to this step, 1
will take my share of humiliation. But we will not talk of
that now. Blame me, Sarah, if you like, so you do not forgei
the tenderness you cannot wholly have lost, for him whose life
is a part of yours, here and hereafter. Think of the children
who are waiting for you in the other life waiting for both
parents, Sarah."
The stubborn resistance of the wife began to give way.
Tears came to her eyes, and she shook as if a mighty struggle
had commenced in her heart. " It was for them," she mur-
mured, in a broken voice, " that I was going. He said they
would be nearer to me."
" Can they be nearer to you when you are parted from their
father? Was it only your heart that was wrung at their loss?
If all other bonds were broken between you, the equal share
in the beings of those Immortals should bind you in life and
death ! Pardon me for renewing your sorrow, but I must
fcvoke the purer spirit that is born of trial. If your mutual
watches over their cradles cannot bring back the memory of
your married love, I must ask you to remember who held
your hand beside their coffins, whose arm supported you in-
the lonely nights !"
The husband could endure no more. Lifting his face from
180 HANNAH THTJBSTON:
6is hands, he cried : " It was me, Sarah. And now, if yon
.eave me, there will be no one to talk with me about Absalom,
*nd Angelina, and our dear little Robert. Don't you mind
fiow I used to dance him on my knee, as as it were, and tell
Him he should have a horse when he was big ? He had such
retty hair ; you always said he'd make a handsome man,
-Jarah : but now they're all gone. There's only us two, now
as it were, and we can't no, we daren't part. We won't
part, will we ?"
Mrs. Waldo made a quiet sign, and they stole gently from
the room. As he closed the door, Woodbury saw the con-
quered and penitent wife look up with streaming eyes, sobbing
convulsively, and stretch out her arms. The next instant, Mrs.
Waldo had half embraced him, in the rush of her pent-up
gratitude.
" Oh !" she exclaimed, striving to subdue her voice, " how
grand it was that you put down that that man. I never
believed in non-resistance, and now I know that I am right."
Hannah Thurstcn said nothing, but her face was radiant
with a tranquil light. She could not allow the doubts which
had arisen in her mind the disturbing influences which had, of
late, beset her, to cloud the happy ending of such a painful
day. A whispered conversation was carried on between
Woodbury and the Waldos, so as not to disturb the low voices
in the next room ; but at the end of ten minutes the door
opened and Merryfield appeared.
" We will go home to-night, as it were," said he. " The
moon rises about this time, and the night is warm."
" Then we will all go !" was Mrs. Waldo's decision. " The
carriages will keep together husband, you must drive one of
them, alone and I shall not be so much alarmed. It is better
o : curious folks will not see that we have been absent, and
need not know."
Woodbury whispered to her : " I shall wait until the train
leaves."
" Will you follow, afterwards ?"
A STOEY OF AMERICAN LIFB. 232
" Yes but no : my intention to stay all night is known, and
ought properly to remain, unless you need my escort."
" Stay," said Hannah Thurston.
The vehicles left the two hotels with the same persons whc
had arrived in them Dyce excepted. Outside of Tiberiui
they halted, and Merryfield joined his wife. The two women
followed, and Mr. Waldo, alone, acted as rear-guard. Thus, in
the silent night, over the moonlit hills, and through the rust-
ling darkness of the woods, they went homewards.
Vague suspicions of something haunted the community of
Ptolemy for a while, but nothing was ever discovered or be-
trayed which could give them a definite form. Arid yet, of
the five persons to whom the truth was known, three wer
women.
HANNAH THUBSTOM'
CHAPTER
ONB OP THE SUMMER DIVERSIONS OF PTOLEMY.
TEN days after the journey to Tiberiue, the highways in
both valleys, and those descending from the hills on either
side, were unusually thronged. Country carriages, buggies
of all fashions, and light open carts, rapidly succeeded each
other, all directing their course towards the village. They
did not halt there, however, but passed through, and, climbing
the gentle acclivity of the southern hill, halted at a grove,
nearly a mile distant. Here the Annual Temperance Conven-
tion of Atauga County was to be held. The cause had been
languishing for the past year or two ; many young men had
become careless of their pledges, and the local societies were
beginning to fall to pieces, because the members had heard afl
that was to be said on the subject, and had done all that could
conveniently be done. The plan of procuring State legislation
in their favor rendered it necessary to rekindle, in some meas-
ure, the fires of zeal if so warm an expression can be applied
to so sober a cause and one of the most prominent speakers
on Temperance, Mr. Abiram Stokes, was called upon to brush
up his well-used images and illustrations for a new campaign.
It was announced, by means of large placards, posted
in all the village stores, post-offices, and blacksmiths' shopS|
far and wide, that not only he, but Mr. Grindle and several
other well-known speakers were to address the Convention.
Strange as it may seem, the same placard was conspicuously
displayed in the bar-room of tne Ptolemy House, the landlord
candidly declaring that he would be glad if such a convention
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 238
were held every week, as it brought him a great deal of cus-
tom. The friends of the cause were called upon for a special
effort ; the day was carefully arranged to come at the end of
haying, yet before the wheat-harvest had fairly commence! ;
moreover, it was Saturday, and the moon was nearly full
The weather favored the undertaking, and by noon the line of
the roads could be distinguished, at some distance, by the
dust which arose from the strings of vehicles.
The principal members of the local societies especially
those of Atauga City, Anacreon, Nero Corners, Mulligansville,
and New Pekin came in heavy lumber- wagons, decoratec
with boughs of spruce and cedar, carrying with them theii
banners, whenever they had any. With some difficulty, a
sufficient sum was raised to pay for the services of the Ptolemy
Cornet Band, in performing, as the placard stated, " melodies
appropriate to the occasion." What those melodies were, it
was not very easy to determine, and the managing committee of
the Ptolemy Society had a special meeting on the subject, the
night before. A wag suggested " The Meeting of the Waters,"
which was at once accepted with delight. " Bonny Doon''
.found favor, as it "minded" the hearers of a Scottish brook.
" The Campbells are Comin' " was also on the list, until some
one remembered that the landlord of the Ptolemy House bore
the name of that clan. " A wet sheet and a flowing sea" hinted
too strongly at " half-seas over," and all the familiar Irish airs
were unfortunately associated with ideas of wakes and Donny-
brook Fairs. After much painful cogitation, the " Old Oaken
Bucket," "Allan Water," "Zurich's Waters," and "The
Haunted Spring" were discovered ; but the band was not ablo
to play more than half of them. Its most successful perform-
ance, we are bound to confess, was the air of " Landlord, fill
the flowing bowl," which the leader could not resist giving
once or twice during the day, to the great scandal of those
votaries of the cause who had once been accustomed to sing it
in character.
The grove was a beautiful piece of oak and hickory timber
284 HANNAII TUUKSTON:
sloping towards the north, and entirely clear of underbrusK
It covered about four acres of ground, and was neither so
dense nor fell so rapidly as to shut out a lovely glimpse of
the valley and the distant, dark-blue sheet of the lake, between
the boles. It was pervaded with a grateful smell, from the
trampled grass and breathing leaves ; and wherever a beam of
iunshine pierced the boughs, it seemed to single out some bit
of gay color, in shawl, or ribbon, or parasol, to play upon and
utilize its brightness. At the bottom of the grove, against
two of the largest trees, a rough platform was erected, in
front of which, rising and radiating amphitheatrically, were
plank benches, capable of seating a thousand persons. Those
who came from a distance were first on hand, and took their
places long before the proceedings commenced. Near the
main entrance, venders of refreshments had erected their
stands, and displayed to the thronging visitors a tempting
variety of indigestible substances. There was weak lemonade,
in tin buckets, with huge lumps of ice glittering defiantly at
the sun ; scores of wired bottles, filled with a sarsaparilla mix-
ture, which popped out in a rush of brown suds ; ice-cream,
the cream being eggs beaten up with watei, and flavored with
lemon sirup ; piles of dark, leathery ginger-cakes, and rows
of glass jars full of candy-sticks ; while the more enterprising
dealers exhibited pies cut into squares, hard-boiled eggs, and
even what they called coffee.
Far down the sides of the main road to Ptolemy the vehicles
were ranged, and even inside the adjoining fields the owner
of which, being a friend to the cause, had opened his bars tc
the multitude. Many of the farmers from a distance brought
their own oats with them, and unharnessed and fed their horsea
in the fence-corners, before joining the crowd in the grove.
Then, accompanied by their tidy wives, who, meanwhile, ex-
amined the contents of the dinner-baskets and saw that every
thing was in order, they approached the meeting with satisfied
and mildly exhilarated spirits, occasionally stopping to greet
an acquaintance or a relative. The daughters had already pre-
A STOK1 OF AMERICAN LIFB. 23ft
ceded them, with their usual independence, well knowing the.
impatience of the young men, and hoping that the roost agree-
able of the latter would discover them before the meeting was
called to order. This was the real charm of the occasion, to
old as well as young. The American needs a serious pretext
for his recreation. He does not, in fact, recognize its ne-
cessity, and would have none at all, did not Nature, with
benevolent cunning, occasionally furnish him with diversion
under the disguise of duty.
As the banners of the local societies arrived, they were set
up in conspicuous positions, on and around the speaker's plat-
form. That of Tiberius was placed in the centre. It was of
b'ue silk, with a gold fringe, and an immense geyser-like foun-
tain in its field, under which were the words : " Ho ! every one
that thirsteth !" On the right was the banner of Ptolemy a
brilliant rainbow, on a white ground, with the warning : "Look
not upon the Wine when it is Red." What connection there
was between this sentence and the rainbow was not apparent,
unless the latter was meant to represent a watery deluge. The
banner of Anacreon, on the left, held forth a dancing female,
in a crimson dress. One foot was thrown far out behind her,
and she was violently pitching forward; yet, in this un-
comfortable position, she succeeded in pouring a thick
stream of water from a ewer of blue china into the open
mouth of a fat child, who wore a very scanty dress. The
inscription was : " The Fountain of Youth." The most inge-
nious device, however, was that from Nero Corners. This lit-
tle community, too poor or too economical to own a temper-
ance banner, took a political one, which they had used in the
campaign of the previous year. Upon it were the names of
the candidates for President and Vice-President: "PiEKCB
and KING." A very little alteration turned the word " Pierce"
into "Prince, "and the word " WATER" being prefixed, the
inscription became: "Water, Prince and King." Those
from other neighborhoods, who were not in the secret, greatly
admired tne simplicity and force of the expression.
236 HANNAH THUESTON:
Woodbury, who was early upon the ground, was much ii*
forested in the scene. Between two and three thousand per-
sons were present, but an order and decorum prevailed, which
would be miraculous "n lauds where the individual is not per-
mitted to grow up self-ruled, or swayed only by the example
of his fellows, and self-reliant. No servant of the law was pres-
ent to guard against disorder, because each man was his own
policeman. Even some tipsy rowdies, who came out from
Ptolemy towards the close of the afternoon, were sobered
by the atmosphere of the place, and had no courage to make
their intended interruptions. The effect of such meetings,
Woodbury confessed to himself, could not be otherwise
than good ; the reform was necessary among a people whose
excitable temperament naturally led them to excesses, and
perhaps it was only one extreme which could counteract
the other. There was still too little repose, too little mental
balance among them, to halt upon the golden middle-ground
of truth
The band occupied the platform for some time after he ar-
rived, and its performances gave intense satisfaction to the
people. The clear tones of the horns and clarionets pealed
triumphantly through the shade, and an occasional slip in an
instrument was unnoticed in the hum of voices. Gradually,
the hearers were lifted a little out of the material sphere in
which they habitually moved, and were refreshed accordingly.
They were made capable, at least, of appreciating some senti-
ment and imagination in the speakers, and words were now
heard with delight, which, in their common moods, would have
been vacant sound. They touched, in spite of themselves, tha'
upper atmosphere of poetry which hangs over all human life-
where the cold marsh-fogs in which we walk become the rosy
cloud-islands of the dawn !
At two o'clock, the band vacated the platform, and the Con-
vention was called to order. After an appropriate prayer by
the Kev. Lemuel Styles, a temperance song was sung by a large
chorus of the younger members. It was a parody on Hoff-
A STORT OP AMERICAN LIFE. 28 T
man's charming anacreontic : " Sparkling and Bright." th
words of which were singularly transformed. Instead of;
" As the bubbles that swim on the beaker's brim,
And break on the lips at meeting,"
the refrain terminated with :
" There's nothing so good for the youthful blood,
Or so sweet as the sparkling water I"
in the style of a medicinal prescription. Poor Hoffman !
Noble heart and fine mind, untimely darkened! He was at
least spared this desecration ; or perhaps, with the gay humor
with which even that darkness is still cheered, he would have
parodied the parody to death.
The Annual Report was then read. It was of great length,
being mainly a furious appeal to voters. The trick of basing
a political issue upon a personal habit was an innovation in the
science of government, which the natural instincts of the peo-
ple were too enlightened to accept without question. The
County Committee, foreseeing this difficulty, adopted the usual
tactics of party, and strove to create a headlong tide of sym-
pathy which would overbear all hesitancy as to the wisdom of
the movement, or the dangerous precedent which it introduced
into popular legislation. " Vote for the Temperance Candi-
dates," they cried, in the Report, " and you vote for morality,
and virtue, and religion ! Vote against them, and you vote for
disease, and misery, and crime ! Vote for them, and you vote
reason to the frantic brain, clearness to the bleared eye, steadi-
ness to the trembling hand, joy to the heart of the forsaken
wife, and bread to the mouths of the famishing children ! Vote
against them, and you vote to fill our poor-houses and peniten-
liaries to tighten the diabolical hold of the rumseller on hia
struggling victim to lead our young men into temptation, and
bring ruin on our beloved land ! Yes, you would vote to fill
the drunkard's bottle ; you would vote oaths and obscenity into
his speech ; you would vote curses to his wife, blows to his
children, the shoes off their feet, the shirts off their backs,
the beds from under them, and the roofs from over their heads.''
238 HANNAH THU^STON :
The Report was adopted with tremendous unanimity, and
the faces of the members of the Committee beamed with sat-
isfaction. The political movement might be considered as
successfully inaugurated. This was the main object of the
Convention, and the waiting orators now saw that they had a
clear and pleasant field before them. "Woodbury, who wa
leaning against a tree, near the end of a plank upon which his
friends the Waldos were seated, listened with an involuntary
sensation of pain and regret. The very character of the Report
strengthened him in the conviction that the vice to be cured
had its origin in a radical defect of the national temperament,
which no legislation could reach.
Mrs. Waldo looked up at him, inquiringly. He shook his
head. " It is a false movement," said he ; " good works are
not accomplished by violence."
" But sometimes by threatening it," she answered, with a
meaning smile.
Me was about to reply, when the President announced that
Byron Baxter, of the Anacreon Seminary, would recite a poem,
after which the meeting would be addressed by Mr. Abiram
Stokes.
Byron Baxter, who was an overgrown, knock-kneed youth
of nineteen, with long hair, parted in the middle, advanced to
the front of the platform, bowed, and then suddenly started
back, with both hands extended before him, in an attitude of
horror. In a loud voice, he commenced to recite :
" Oh, take the maddening bowl away I
Remove the poisonous cup 1
My soul is sick ; its burning ray
Hath drunk my spirit up.
' Take, take it from my loathing lip
Ere madness fires my brain :
Oh, take it hence, nor let me sip
Its liquid death again!"
As the young man had evidently never tAstec* aiij tiling
A STORY OF AMERICAS LIPK. 239
stronger than molasses-and-water, the expression of his abhor-
rence was somewhat artificial. Nevertheless, a shudder ran
through the audience at the vehemence of his declamation,
and he was greeted with a round of applause, at the close.
The orator of the day, Mr. Abiram Stokes, then made hi
appearance. He was a man of forty-five, with a large, hand
some head, and an imposing presence. His hair and eyes were
dark, and his complexion slightly tinted with olive. This trait,
with his small hands and showy teeth, seemed to indicate a
mixture of Spanish blood. He had a way of throwing his
head forward, so as to let a large lock of his hair fall over hit
forehead with a picturesque effect, and then tossing it back to
its place with a reverse motion. His voice was full and sono-
rous ; although, to a practised ear, its pathos, in passages in-
tended for effect, was more dramatic than real. Few of his
present auditors, however, were able to discriminate in this
respect; the young ladies, especially, were in raptures. It
was rumored that his early life had been very wild and dissi-
pated, and he was looked upon as one of the most conspicuous
brands which had been snatched from the burning. This ru-
mor preceded him wherever he went, created a personal inte-
rest for him, in advance, and added to the effect of his oratory.
His style of speaking, nevertheless, was showy and specious.
He took no wide range, touched but slightly on the practical
features of the subject, and indulged sparingly in anecdotes
and illustrations. Xone of the latter professed to be drawn
from his personal experience : his hearers might make what-
ever inference they pleased, he knew the value of mystery too
well, to enlighten them further. He was greatest in apostro-
phes to Water, to Reform, to Woman, to any thing that per-
mitted him, according to his own expression, " to soar." This
feature of his orations was usually very effective, the first time
he was heard. He was in the habit of introducing some of
his favorite passages on every occasion. Woodbury, who was
not aware of this trick, was agreeably surprised at the nataral
warmth an 1 eloquence of the speaker's language.
240 HANNAH THUBSTON?
His peroration ran something in this wise : " This, the purest
and most beneficent of the Virtues, comes not to achieve her
victory in battles and convulsions. Soft as the dews of heaveix
her white feet are beautiful upon the mountains, bringing glad
tidings of great joy! Blessed are we that she has chosen her
abode among us, and that she has selected us to do her work !
No other part of the world was fitted to receive her. She
never could have been produced by the mouldering despotisms
of Europe, where the instincts of Freedom are stifled by wine
and debauchery ; the Old World is too benighted to behold
her face. Here only here on the virgin bosom of a new Con-
tinent here, in the glorious effulgence of the setting sun
here only could she be born ! She is the child of the West
Temperance and before her face the demon Alcohol flees
to his caverns and hides himself among the bones of his vic-
tims, while Peace sits at her right hand and Plenty at her left !"
" Beautiful !" " splendid !" was whispered through the au-
dience, as the speaker took his seat. Miss Carrie Dil worth
wiped her eyes with a very small batiste handkerchief, and
sighed as she reflected that this man, her beau-ideal (which
she understood to mean an ideal beau), would never know what
an appreciative helpmeet she would have made him.
" Oh, Hannah !' 1 she whispered, leaning forward, to Miss
Thurston, who was seated on the next plank, " did you ever
hear any thing so beautiful ?"
"I thought it fine, the first time I heard it," Hannah re-
plied, with a lack of enthusiasm which quite astounded the
little sempstress. She began to fear she had made a mistake,
when the sight of Miss Ruhaney Goodwin, equally in tears,
(and no wonder, for her brother Elisha had been a miserable
irunkard), somewhat revived her confidence. -
" Flashy, but not bad of its kind," said Woodbury, hi re-
ply to Mrs. Waldo's question.
" Are you not ashamed ? It's magnificent. And he's such
a handsome man !" she exclaimed. " But I see, you are de-
termined not to admire any of them ; you've not forgotten
A STOUT OF AMERICAN LIFE. 24 J
Grindle's attack. Or else you're a pess what's the name oi
it ? Mr. Waldo explained the word to me yesterday pess "
"Oh, a pessimist? Not at all, Mrs. Waldo. On the con-
trary, I am almost an optimist."
" Well, that's just as bad though I am not sure I knour
vrhat it is Oh, there's Grindle going to speak. Now you'll
catch it !"
She shook her hand menacingly, and Woodbury, much
amused and not a little curious to hear the speaker, resumed
nis position against the tree.
Mr. Grindle, who carried on a moderate lumber business in
AtaugaCity, neglected no opportunity of making himself heard
in public. He was a man of shallow faculties, but profound
conceit of himself, and would have preferred, at any time, to
be abused rather than ignored. His naturally fluent speech
had been cultivated by the practice of years, but as he was
neither an earnest thinker nor a close reasoner, and, moreover,
known to be unscrupulous in the statement of facts, the consider-
ation which he enjoyed as a speaker would soon have become
exhausted, but for the boldness and indecency of his personal
attacks, whereby he replenished that element of hot water iu
which he rejoiced. Mr. Campbell, the landlord of the Ptolemy
House, had several times threatened him with personal chas-
tisement, and he only escaped by avoiding an encounter until
the landlord's wrath had a little cooled. He was so accus-
tomed to insulting epithets that they never produced the slight-
est impression upon him.
He had spoken nearly half an hour, airing a quantity of sta-
tistics, which he bad mostly committed to memory where
that failed, he supplied the figures from his imagination
whon he perceived that the audience, after having tasted the
epiced meats of Mr. Abiram Stoke ; seemed to find the plain
food he oifered them rather insipid. But he had still the re-
source of personality, which he knew, from long experience, is
always entertaining, whether or not the hearers approve of it.
The transition was easily made. "Looking at this terrible
11
242 HANNAH THUESTON:
array of facts," said he, "how can any man, who is worthy the
name of a human being, dare to oppose the doctrines of Tem-
perance? How dare any man suppose that his own miserable
personal indulgences are of more consequence than the moral
salvation of his fellow-creatures? Yet there are such men
not poor, ignorant, deluded creatures, who know no better
ind are entitled to some allowances but men who are rich,
who appear to be educated, and who claim to be highly moral
and respectable. What are we to think of those men ?"
Mrs. Waldo glanced up at Woodbury with a look which
said : " Now it's coming !"
" Let it come !" his look replied.
"They think, perhaps," the speaker continued, "that there
are different laws of morality for different climates that they
can bring here among us the detestable practices of heathen
races, which we are trying to root out ! I tell such, they had
better go back, and let their unhappy slaves hand them the
hookah, filled with its intoxicating draught, or steady their
tottering steps when the fumes of sherbet have mounted to
their brains !"
Many persons in the assembly knew who was meant, and
as Woodbury's position made him easily distinguished, they
watched him with curiosity as the speaker proceeded. He
leaned against the tree, with his arms folded, and an amused
half-smile on his face, until the foregoing climax was reached,
when, to the astonishment of the spectators, he burst into an
uncontrollable fit of laughter.
Mr. Grindle, too, had discovered his victim, and occasionally
darted a side look at him, calculating how far he might carry
the attack with safety to himself. Woodbury's sudden and
violent merriment encouraged while it disconcerted him : there
was, at least, nothing to be feared, and he might go on.
"Yes, I repeat it," he continued; " whatever name may be
given to the beverage, we are not to bo cheated. Such men
may drink their sherbet, or their Heidsick ; they may call their
drinka by respectable cames, and the demon of Alcohol laugLi
A STORY OP .AMERICAN LIFE. 243
as he claims them for his own. St. Paul says ' the Prince of
Darkness is a gentleman :' beware, beware, my friends, lest the
accursed poison, which is harmless to you "under its vulgar
names, should beguile you with an aristocratic title !"
" Will the speaker allow me to make a remark ?"
Woodbury, controlling his laughter with some difficulty k
straightened himself from his leaning position against the tree,
and, yielding to the impulse of the moment, spoke. His voice
not loud, but very clear, was distinctly heard all over the
crowd, and there was a general rustling sound, as hundreds of
heads turned towards him. Mr. Grindle involuntarily paused
in his speech, but made no reply.
" I will only interrupt the proceedings for a moment," Wood-
bury resumed, in a cool, steady tone, amidst the perfect silence
of the multitude " in order to make an explanation. I will
not wrong the speaker by supposing that his words have a
personal application to myself; because that would be charging
him with advocating truth by means of falsehood, and defend-
ing morality by the wenpons of ignorance and insult. But
I know the lands of which he speaks and the habits of their
people. So far from drunkenness being a ' detestable heathen
habit' of theirs, it is really we who should go to them to learn
temperance. I must confess, also, my great surprise at hearing
the speaker's violent denunciation of the use of sherbet, after
seeing that it is openly sold, to-day, in this grove after hav-
ing, with my own eyes, observed the speaker, himself, drink
a large glass of it with evident satisfaction."
There was a sudden movement, mixed here and there with
laughter, among the audience. Mr. Grindle cried out, in s
hoarse, excited voice: ''The charge is false! I never use in-
toxicating beverages !"
"I made no such charge," said Woodbury, calmly, "but it
may interest the audience to know that sherbet is simply t?ie
Arabic name for lemonade."
The laughter 'was universal, Mr. Grirdle excepted.
" Tho speaker, also," he continued, 'mentioned the intoii
244 HANNAH THTJBSTON:
eating beverage of the hookah. As the hookah is a pipe, in
which the smoke of the tobacco passes through water before
reaching the mouth, it may be considered a less dangerous
beverage than the clay-pipe of the Irish laborer. I beg pardon
of the meeting for my interruption."
The laughter was renewed, more heartily than before, and
/or a minute after Woodbury ceased the tumult was so great
that Mr. Grindle could not be heard. To add to the confusioii,
the leader of the Ptolemy band, taking the noise as a sign that
the Convention had adjourned, struck up "Malbrook," which
air, unfortunately, was known in the neighborhood by the less
classical title of " We won't go home till morning."
The other members of the Committee, on the platform, pri-
vately begged Mr. Grindle to take his seat and allow them to
introduce a new orator; but he persisted in speaking for an-
other quarter of an hour, to show that he was not discomfited,
The greater portion of the audience, nevertheless, secretly re-
joiced at the lesson he had received, and the remainder of his
speech was not heard with much attention. Woodbury, to
escape the curious gaze of the multitude, took a narrow and
uncomfortable seat on the end of the plank, beside Mrs. Waldo.
He was thenceforth, very much against his will, an object of
great respect to the rowdies of Ptolemy, who identified him
with the opposite cause.
There was another song, commencing :
" The wine that all are praising
Is not the drink for me.
But there's a spring in yonder glen,
Whose waters flow for Temperance men," etc.,
which -was likewise sung in chorus. Then succeeded other
speakers, of less note, to a gradually diminishing circle of hear-
ers. The farmers and their wives strayed off to gossip with
acquaintances on the edges of the grove; baskets of provisions
were opened and the contents shared, and the stalls of cake
and sarsaparilla suds experienced a reflux of custom. As the
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 245
young men were not Lord Byrons, the young ladies did not
scruple to eat in their presence, and flirtations were carried oil
with a chicken-bone in one hand and a piece of bread in the
other. The sun threw softer and slanter lights over the beau-
tiful picture of the valley, and, gradually creeping below tho
ooughs, shot into the faces of those who were still seated ir
front of the platform. It was time to close the performancei
of the day, and they were accordingly terminated with a third
song, the refrain of which was :
" Oh, for the cause is rolling on, rolling on, rolling on,
Over the darkened land."
Woodbury and the Waldos, to avoid the dust of the road,
walked back to Ptolemy by a pleasant path across the fields.
Ere long they overtook Hannah Thurston and Miss Dilworth.
Mr. Grindle was, of course, the theme of conversation.
" Wasn't he rightly served, Hannah ?" Mrs. Waldo ex
claimed, with enthusiasm. Woodbury was fast assuming
heroic proportions, in her mind.
" I think Mr. Woodbury was entirely justifiable in his inter-
ruption," Miss Thurston answered, " and yet I almost wish
that it had not occurred."
" So do I !" Woodbury exclaimed.
"Well you two are quer people 1" was Mrs. Waldo'i
unazed
240 HANNAH
CHAPTER XIX.
IH WHICH THERE IS BOTH ATTRACTION AND REPUL8IOV.
HANNAH THURSTON'S remark remained in Woodbury's eari
long after it was uttered. His momentary triumph over, he
began to regret having obeyed the impulse of the moment.
Mr. Grindle's discomfiture had been too cheaply purchased ;
he was game of a sort too small and mean for a man of refined
instincts to notice even by a look. His own interruption, cool
and careless as he felt it to have been, nevertheless betrayed
an acknowledgment that he had understood the speaker's in-
sinuation ; and, by a natural inference, that he was sufficiently
sensitive to repel it. Mr. Grindle was acute enough to make
this inference, and it was a great consolation to htm, in his
own overthrow, to think that he had stung his adversary.
Woodbury, however, forgot his self-blame in the grateful
surprise of hearing its echo from Miss Thurston's lips. Her
remark betrayed a delicacy of perception which he had not
expected more than this, indeed, it betrayed a consideration
for his character as a gentleman, which she could not have felt,
had she not, in imagination, placed herself in his stead. He
knew that a refined nature must be born so ; it can only bo
partially imitated by assiduous social study ; and his previous
intercourse with Miss Thurston had not prepared him to find
her instincts so true. He looked at her, as she walked beside
him, with a renewed feeling of interest. Her slender figure
moved along the grassy path with a free, elastic step. She
wore a dross of plain white muslin, with wide sleeves, and a
knot of pearl-colored ribbon at the throat. Her parasol, and
the trimming of her hat, wore of the same quiet color j the
A STORY OP AMERICAN LIFE. 247
only ornament she wore was a cluster of little pink flowers in
the latter. The excitement of the occasion, or the act of
walking, had brought a soft tinge to her usually pale cheek,
and as her eyes dropped to avoid the level light of the sun,
Woodbury noticed how long and dark were the lashes that
fringed her lids. " At eighteen she must have been lovely,'
he said to himself, "but, even then, her expression could
scarcely have been more virginly pure and sweet, than now."
He turned away, repressing a sigh. How one delusion
could spoil a noble woman !
Before descending the last slope to the village, they paused,
involuntarily, to contemplate the evening landscape. The sun
was just dipping behind the western hill, and a portion of
Ptolemy lay in shadow, while the light, streaming through the
gap made by a lateral glen, poured its dusty gold over the
distant elms of Roaring Brook, and caused the mansion of
Lakeside to sparkle like a star against its background of firs.
Far down the lake flashed the sail of a pleasure-boat, and the
sinking western shore melted into a vapory purple along the
dim horizon. The strains of the band still reached them from
the grove, but softened to the airy, fluctuating sweetness of
an ^Eolian harp.
" Our lines are cast in pleasant places," said Mr. Waldo,
looking from hill to hill with a cheerful content on his face.
"Every part of the earth has its moments of beauty, I
think," Woodbury replied : " but Ptolemy is certainly a
favored spot. If the people only knew it. I wonder whether
happiness is not a faculty, or a peculiarity of temperament,
quite independent of the conditions of one's life ?"
" That depends on what you cah 1 happiness," Mrs. "Waldo
rejoined. " Come, now, let us each define it, and see bow we
lhall agree. 3Iy idea is, it's in making the best of every
thing."
" Xo, it's 'finding a congenial spirit!" cried Miss Carrie.
" You tor ire t the assuram-u of Gnuv," said the clergyman.
"Fairly caught, Mrs. Waldo! You are no better than I
248 HANNAH THURSTOW:
you confess yourself an optimist!" Woodbury merrily ex
claimed. " So far, you are right but, unfortunately, there
are some things we cannot make the best of."
" We can always do our duty, for it is proportioned to ouf
Dower," said Hannah Thurston.
" If we know exactly what it is."
" Why should we not know ?" she asked, turning quickly
towards him.
" Because the simple desire to know is not enough, althougt
I trust God gives us some credit for it. How much of Truth
is there, that we imperfectly grasp ! How much is there, also,
that we shrink from knowing!"
"Shrink from Truth!"
" Yes, since we are human, and our nearest likeness to God
is a compassionate tenderness for our fellow-men. Does not
the knowledge of a vice in a dear friend give us pain ? Do
we not cling, most desperately, to our own cherished opinions,
at the moment when we begin to suspect they are untenable ?
No : we are not strong enough, nor stony-hearted enough, to
do without illusions."
" Yet you would convince me of mine !" Hannah Thurston
exclaimed, with a shade of bitterness in the tone of her voice.
The next moment she felt a pang of self-rebuke at having
spoken, and the color rose to her face. The application she
had made of his words was uncalled-for. He must not thus be
met. He was so impregnable in his calmness, and in the con-
clusions drawn from his ripe experience of life ! Her own
faith tottered whenever their minds came in contact, yet if she
gave up it, how could she be certain, any longer, what was
Truth ? He was not a hard materialist ; he possessed fancy,
and feeling, and innate reverence; but his approach seemed t.
chill her enthusiasm and benumb the free action of her mind.
" Oh, no !" he answered, with kindly seriousness, "I would
not consciously destroy a single innocent illusion. There are
even forms of Error which are only rendered worse b^ antag-
onism. I have no idea of assailing all views that do not liar
A STOKY OP AMERICAN LIFE. 24P
monize with my own. I am but one among many millions,
and my aim is to understand Life, not forcibly change its
character."
Walking a little in advance of the others, as they spoke, the
conversation was interrupted by their arrival in Ptolemy.
Woodbury declined an invitation to take tea with the Waldos,
and drove home with Bute, in the splendor of sunset. The
latter took advantage of the first opportunity to describe to
Mrs. Fortitude Babb the confusion which his master had
inflicted on Mr. Grindle.
" And sarved him right, too," said she, with a grim satisfac-
tion. " To think o' him turmn' up his nose at her best Sherry,
and callin' it pizon !"
She could not refrain from expressing her approbation to
Woodbury, as she prepared his tea. Her manner, however,
made it seem very much like a reproof. " I've heerd, Sir,"
she remarked, with a rigid face, " that you've been speakin'. I
s'pose you'll be goin' to the Legislatur', next."
Woodbury smiled. " 111 news travels fast," he said.
" Ta'n't ill, as I can see. She wouldn't ha' thought so,
nuther. Though, to be sure, sich fellers didn't come here, in
her time."
" He will not come again, Mrs. Babb."
" I'd like to see him try it !" With which words Mrs.
Babb slapped down the lid of the teapot, into which she had
been looking, with a sound like the discharge of a pocket-pistol.
Woodbury went into the library, wheeled his arm-chair to
the open window, lighted a cigar, and watched the risen moon
brighten against the yielding twilight. The figure of Hannah
Thurston, in her white dress, with the pearl-colored ribbon at
her throat, with the long lashes falling over her dark-gray eyes,
the flush on her cheek, and the earnest sweetness of her lips,
rose before him through the rings of smoke, in the luminous
dusk of the evening. A persistent fate seemed to throw them
together, only to show him how near they might have been,
how far apart they really were. When he recalled her cour-
11*
250 HANNAH THURSTON:
age and self-possession during the scene in the grove above tut
cataract, and the still greater courage which led her to Tiberius,
daring reproach in order to rescue a deluded creature from im-
pending ruin, he confessed to himself that for no other living
woman did he feel equal respect. He bowed down in rever-
ence before that highest purity which is unconscious of what
it ventures, and an anxious interest arose in his heart as he re-
cognized the dangers into which it might lead her. He felt
thai she was capable of understanding him; that she possessed
the finer instincts which constituted what was best in his own
nature ; that she yielded him, also, a certain respect : but it
was equally evident that her mind was unnecessarily alert and
suspicious in his presence. She assumed a constant attitude
of defence, when no attack was intended. He seemed to ex-
ercise an unconscious repellant force towards her, the secret of
which he suspected must be found hi herself in the tenacity
with which she held to her peculiar views, and a feminine im
patience of contrary opinions.
But, as he mused, his fancies still came back to that one pic-
ture the pure Madonna face, with its downcast eyes, touched
with the mellow glory of the sunset. A noiseless breath of
the night brought to his window the creamy odor of the locust
blossoms, and lured forth the Persian dreams of the roses.
The moonlight silver on the leaves the pearly obscurity of
the sky the uncertain murmurs of the air combined to steep
his senses in a sweet, semi-voluptuous trance. He was too
truly and completely man not to know what was lacking to
his life. He was accustomed to control passion because he
had learned its symptoms, but this return of the fever of youtf
was now welcome, with all its pain.
Towards midnight, he started suddenly and closed the win-
dow. " My God !" he exclaimed, aloud ; " she in my arms !
her lips on mine! What was I thinking of? Pshaw a strong-
minded woman! Well -the very strongest-minded of them ~
all is still very far from being a man." With which consoling
excuse for the absurdity of his thoughts, he went to bed.
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 251
The next morning he spent an hour in a careful inspection
of the library, aiid, after hesitating between a ponderous trans-
lation of the " Mahorbharata" and Lane's " Arabian Nights,"
finally replaced them both, and took down Jean Paul's "Sie
benkas " and " Walt and Vult." After the early Sunday din
ner, he put the volumes into his pockets, and, mounting his
horse, rode to Ptolemy.
Hannah Thurston had brought a chair into the open air, and
seated herself on the shady side of the cottage. The afternoon
was semi-clouded and mildly breezy, and she evidently found
the shifting play of sun and shade upon the eastern hill better
reading than the book in her hand, for the latter was closed.
She recognized "Woodbury as he came into the street a little
distance below, and watched the motion of his horse's legs
under the boughs of the balsam-firs, which hid the rider from
sight. To her surprise, the horse stopped, opposite the cot-
tage-door : she rose, laid down her book, and went forward to
meet her visitor, who, by this time, had entered the gate.
After a frank and unembarrassed greeting, she said : " My
mother is asleep, and her health is so frail that I am very care-
ful not to disturb her rest. Will you take a seat, here, in the
shade?"
She then withdrew for a moment, in order to bring a second
chair. In the mean time, Woodbury had picked up her book
it was Bettine's Correspondence with Gilnderode. " I am glad,"
said he, looking up at her approach, " that I was not wrong in
my selection."
She answered his look with an expression of surprise.
" I am going away, in a few days, for a summer excursion,*
he added, by way of explanation, taking the books from hi
pockets, " and in looking over my library this morning I found
two works, which, it occurred to me, you might like to read.
The sight of this volume convinces me that I have judged
correctly : they are also translations from the German."
llanuah Thurston's eyes brightened as she took the books
and looked at their title-pages. " Oh !" she exclaimed, " I
252 HANNAH THUBSTON:
thank you very much ! I have long wished to soe these works
Lydia Maria Child speaks very highly of them."
" Who is Lydia Maria Child?"
She looked at him, almost in dismay. " Have you nevet
read her ' Letters from New York ?' " she asked. " I do not
up pose you are a subscriber to the Slavery Annihilator
which she edits, but these letters have been collected and pub
lished."
" Are they doctrinal ?"
" Perhaps you would call them so. She has a generous sym-
pathy with all Progress ; yet her letters are mostly descriptive.
I would offer them to you, if I were sure that you would read
them willingly not as a task thrust upon you."
"You would oblige me," said Woodbury, cordially. "I
am not unwilling to hear new views, especially when they are
eloquently presented. Anna Maria Child, I presume, is an
advocate of Woman's Rights ?"
" You will, at least, find very little of such advocacy in her
letters."
" And if I should ?" he asked. " Do not confound me, Miss
Thurston, with the multitude who stand in hostile opposition
to your theory. I am very willing that it should be freely dis-
cussed, because attention may thereby be drawn to many real
wrongs. Besides, in the long run, the practice of the human
race is sensible and just, and nothing can be permanently
adopted which is not very near the truth."
"'Real wrongs !'" she repeated ; " yes, I suppose our wrongs
are generally considered imaginary. It is a convenient way
of disposing of them."
" Is that charge entirely fair ?"
She colored slightly. Is the man's nature flint or iron, she
thought, that his mind is sc equably clear and cold ? Would
not antagonism rouse him into warmth, imparting an answer-
ing warmth to her thoughts, which his unimpassioned manner
chilled to death ? Then she remembered his contagious gay-
ety during the walk to Ptolemy, bis terrible indignation in the
inn at Tiberias, and felt that she had done him wrong.
A STOBY OF AMERICAN LTPJi. 251
" I ask your pardon," she answered, presently. " I did not
mean to apply the charge to you, Mr. Woodbury. I waa
thinking of the prejudices we are obliged to encounter. We
present what we feel to be serious truths in relation to our sex,
and they are thrown aside with a contemptuous indifference,
which wounds us more than the harshest opposition, because
*t implies a disbeh'ef in our capacity to think for ourselves. You
/ttust know that the word 'feminine,' applied to a man, is the
greatest reproach that the phrase ' a woman's idea' is never
uttered but as a condemnation."
u I have not looked at the subject from your point of view,"
said Woodbury, with an expressed respect in his manner,
"but I am willing to believe that you have reason to feel
aggrieved. You must remember, however, that the reproach
is not all on one side. You women are just as ready to con-
demn masculine habits and ideas in your own sex. Among
children a molly-coddle is no worse than a tomboy. The fact,
after all, does not originate in any natural hostility or contempt,
on either side, but simply from an instinctive knowledge of
the distinctions of sex, in temperament, in habits, and in
mind."
"In mind ?" Hannah Thurston asked, with unusual calmness.
" Then you think that minds, too, are male and female ?"
" That there are general distinctions, certainly. The exact
boundaries between them, however, are not so easily to be
defined. But there is a radical difference in "the texture, and
hence in the action of the two. Do you not always instinctive-
ly feel, in reading a book, whether the author is a man or a
woman ? Can you name any important work which might
have been written, indifferently, by either ?"
Miss Thurston reflected a while, and then suggested: "Mrs.
Somerville's ' Physical Geography ?' "
"Fairly answered," said Woodbury, smiling. "I will not
reject the instance. I will even admit that a woman might
write a treatise on algebraic equations, in which there should
be no sign of her sex. Still, this would not affect the main
254 HANNAH THUBSTON '
fact, which I think you will recognize upon reflection. I admit
the greatness of the immortal women of History. Nay, more :
I claim that men are not only willing, without the least touch
Df jealousy, to acknowledge genius in Woman, but are always
the first to recognize and respect it. What female poet has
selected for her subject that ' whitest lily on the shield oi
France,' the Maid of Orleans ? But Schiller and Southey have
not forgotten her. How rare it is, to see one of these famous
women eulogized by a woman ! The principal advocate of
your cause what is her name? Bessie Stryker, would be
treated with more fairness and consideration by men than by
those of her own sex who are opposed to her views."
" Yes, that is it," she answered, sadly ; " we are dependent
on men, and fear to offend them."
"This much, at least, seems to be true," said he, "that a sense
of reliance on the one hand and protection on the other consti-
tutes a firmer and tenderer form of union than if the natures
were evenly balanced. It is not a question of superiority,
but of radical and necessary difference of nature. Woman
is toe finely organized for the hard, coarse business of the
world, and it is for her own sake that man desires to save her
from it. He stands between her and human nature in the
rough."
" But could she not refine it by her presence ?"
" Never never !" exclaimed Woodbury. " On the con-
trary, it would drag her down to unutterable depths. If
woman had the right of suffrage there would be less swearing
among the rowdies at the polls, the first time they voted, but
at the end of five years both sexes would swear together
That is" he added, seeing the shocked expression of Hannah
Thurston's face, "supposing them to be equally implicated hi
the present machinery of politics. The first time a female
candidate went into a bar-room to canvass for votes, she would
see the inmates on their best behavior ; but this could not last
long. She would soon either be drivea from the field, or
brought down to the same level. Nay, she would go belot
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 266
it, for the rudest woman would be injured by associations
through which the most refined man might pass unharmed."
The tone of grave conviction in his words produced a strong
though painful impression upon his hearer. She had heard
very nearly the same things said, in debate, but they were
Iways met and apparently overcome by the millennial assuran
ces of her friends by their firm belief in the possible perfec-
tion of human nature, an illusion which she was too ready to
accept. A share in all the special avocations of Man, she had
believed, would result in his elevation, not in the debasement
of Woman.
" I should not expect a sudden change," she said, at last,
" but might not men be gradually redeemed from their low
tastes and habits ? Might not each sex learn from the other
only what is best and noblest in it ? It would be very sad if
all hope for the future must be taken away from us."
" All hope ? No !" said Woodbury, rising from his seat.
" The human race is improving, and will continue to improve
Better hope too much than not at all. But between the na-
tures of the sexes there is a gulf as wide as all time. The lawe
by which each is governed are not altogether arbitrary; they
have grown, age after age, out of that difference in mental and
moral development of which I spoke, and which pardon me
you seem to overlook. Whatever is, is not always right, but
you may be sure there is no permanent and universal rela-
tion founded on error. You would banish profanity, excesses,
brute force from among men, would you not ? Have you ever
reflected that these things are distorted forms of that energy
which has conquered the world ? Mountains are not torn
down, rivers bridged, wildernesses subdued, cities built, states
founded, and eternal dikes raised against barbarism, by the
eaters of vegetables and the drinkers of water ! Every man who
is. worth the name possesses something of the coarse, original
fibre of the race: he lacks, by a wise provision of Providence,
that finer protecting instinct \\hich holds woman back from
the rude, material aspects of human nature. He knows and
256 HANNAH
recognizes as inevitable facts, many things, of which she doei
not even suspect the existence. Therefore, Miss Thurston,
when you apply to men the aspirations of progress which you
have formed as a woman, you must expect to be disappointed.
E*ardon me for speaking so plainly, in opposition to views
which I know you must cherish with some tenderness. I
Dave, at least, not been guilty of the offence which you
charged upon my sex."
"No," she answered, "you have been frank, Mr. Wood-
bucy, and I know that you are sincere. But may not your
\riews be still somewhat colored by the old prejudice ?"
She blushed, the moment after she spoke. She had endeav-
ored to moderate her expressions, yet her words sounded
harsh and offensive.
But Woodbury smiled as he answered : " If it be so, why
should old prejudices be worse than new ones? A prejudice
is a weed that shoots up over night. It don't take two years
to blossom, like this foxglove."
He broke off one of the long purple bells, and stuck it in the
button-hole of his coat.
" I like what slowly matures, and lasts long," said he.
Hannah Thurston repeated some words of thanks for the
books, as he gave her his hand. From the shade of the fir sho
watched him mount and ride into the village. " He will prob-
ably take tea with the Waldos," she thought : " I shah 1 stay at
home."
She resumed her seat, mechanically taking up the volumes
he had left, but did not open them. His words still lingered
in her mind, with a strange, disturbing effect. She felt that
he exercised an influence over her which she was not able sat-
isfactorily to analyze. The calmness of his utterance, the ripe-
ness of his opinions, the fairness of his judgment, attracted
her : she knew no man who compelled an equal respec* : yet
there seemed to be very little in common between them. She
never met him without a painful doubt of herself being awa-
kened, which lasted long after his departure. She determined
A STOET OP AMERICAN LIFE. 467
again and again, to avoid these mental encounters, but some
secret force irresistibly led her to speak. She felt, in her in-
most soul, the first lifting of a current, which, if it rose, would
carry her, she knew not where. A weird, dangerous power
in his nature seemed to strike at the veiy props on which her
life rested. With a sensation, almost of despair, she whis-
pered to herself: "I will see him no more."
"Woodbury, riding down the street, shook his he^.?, and
thought, as he unnecessarily pricked his horse with the spur ;
u 1 fear she is incorrigible."
358 EIA.NNAH THUR&TOH:
CHAPTER XX.
IN WHICH SETH WATTLES IS AGAIN DISAPPOINTED.
AFTER their return from Tiberius the life of the Merryfieliii
was unusually quiet and subdued. The imprudent wife, re-
leased from the fatal influence which had enthralled her, grad-
ually came to see her action in its proper light, and to under-
stand the consequences she had so happily escaped. She
comprehended, also, that there was a point beyond which her
husband could not be forced, but within which she was secure
of his indulgent love. Something of the tenderness of their
early married life returned to her in those days ; she forgot
her habit of complaint; suspended, out of very shame, her
jealous demand for her " rights ;" and was almost the busy,
contented, motherly creature she had been to James Merry-
field before either of them learned that they were invested
with important spiritual missions.
He, also, reflected much upon what had happened. He per-
ceived the manner in which his wife's perverted views had
grown out of the belief they had mutually accepted. The
possible abuses of this belief became evident to him, yet hia
mind was unable to detect its inherent error. It rested en a
few broad, specious propositions, which, having accepted, hot
was obliged to retain, with all their consequences. He had
neither sufficient intellectual culture nor experience of life to
understand that the discrepancy between the ideal reform and
its practical realization arose, not so much from the truths
assorted as from the truths omitted or concealed. Thus, tha
<b'-mer serenity of his views became painfully clouded and dis
Curbed, and there were times when he felt that he doubted
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 255
what he knew must be true. It was better, he said to himself,
that he should cease, for a while, to speculate on the subject ;
but his thoughts continually returned to it in spite of himself.
He greatly felt the need of help in this extremity, yet an un
conquerable shyness prevented him from applying to either of
the two persons Woodbury or Mr. Waldo who were capa
ble of giving it. Towards his wife he was entirely kind and
considerate. After the first day or two, the subject of the
journey to Tiberius was tacitly dropped, and even the question
of Woman's Rights was avoided as much as possible.
While he read aloud the " Annihilator" in the evening, and
Mrs. Merry field knit or sewed as she listened, the servant-girl
and the field-hand exchanged their opinions in the kitchen.
They had detected, the first day, the change in the demeanor
of the husband and wife. " They've been havin' a row, and
no mistake," said Henry, " and I guess he's got the best of it."
" No sich a thing," replied Ann, indignantly. " Him, in-
deed ! It's as plain as my hand that he's awfully cut up, and
she's took pity on him."
" Why, she's as cowed as can be !"
" And he's like a dog with his tail between his legs."
There was a half-earnest courtship going on between the
two, and each, of course, was interested in maintaining the
honor of the sex. It was a prolonged battle, renewed from
day to day with re-enforcements drawn from observations made
at meal-times, or in the field or kitchen. Most persons who
attempt to conceal any strong emotion are like ostriches with
their heads in the sand : the dullest and stupidest of mankind
will feel, if not see, that something is the matter. If, to a mat
who knows the world, the most finished result of hypocrisy
often fails of its effect, the natural insight of those who do not
think at all is scarcely less sure and true. The highest art
that ever a Jesuit attained could not blind a ship's crew or a
company of soldiers.
It was fortunate for the Merry fields, that, while their de
pendents fel 1 the change, the truth was beyond their suspicions
200 HANNAH THTJRSTON !
Towards the few who knew it, there was of course no necessity
for disguise, and hence, after a solitude of ten days upon the
farm, Mr. Merryfield experienced a sense of relief and satisfac-
tion, as, gleaning the scattered wheat with a hay-rake in a field
adjoining the road, he perceived Hannah Thurston approach-
ing from Ptolemy. Hitching his horse to the fence, he climbed
over into the road to meet her. It was a warm afternoon, and
he was in his shirt-sleeves, with unbuttoned waistcoat ; but,
in the country, conventionalities have not reached the point of
the ridiculous, and neither he nor his visitor was aware of the
least impropriety. The farmers, in fact, would rather show
their own brawny arms and bare breasts than see the bosoms
of their daughters exposed to the public gaze by a fashionable
ball-dress.
" I'm glad you've come, Hannah," said he, as he gave her
his hard hand. " It seems a long time since I seen you before.
We've been quite alone ever since then."
" I should have come to see you sooner, but for mother's ill-
ness," she replied. " I hope you are both well and happy."
Her look asked more than her words.
" Yes," said he, understanding the question in her mind,
" Sarah's got over her delusion, I guess. Not a hard word
has passed between us. We don't talk of it any more. But,
Hannah, I'm in trouble about the principle of the thing. I
can't make it square in my mind, as it were. There seems to
be a contradiction, somewhere, between principles and work-
ing them out. You've thought more about the matter than I
have : can you make things straight ?"
The struggle in Hannah Thurston's own mind enabled her
to comprehend his incoherent questions. She scarcely knew
how to answer him, yet would fain say something to soothe
and comfort him in his perplexity. After a pause, she an-
swered :
" 1 fear, James, that I have over-estimated my own wisdom
that we have all been too hasty in drawing conclusions from
abstract reasoning. We have, perhaps, been presumptuous in
A STORY OP AMERICAN LIFE. 26 J
taking it foi granted that we, alone, possessed a truth which
the world at large is too blind to see or, admitting that all is
true which we believe, that we are too hasty in endeavoring
to fulfil it in our lives, before the needful preparation is made.
You know that the field must be properly ploughed and har-
rowed, before you sow the grain. It may be that we are so
impatient as to commence sowing before we have ploughed. 1 '
This illustration, drawn from his own business, gave Merry-
field great comfort. " That must be it !" he exclaimed. " 1
don't quite understand how, but I feel that what you say must
be true, nevertheless."
"Then," she continued, encouraged by the effect of her
words ; " I have sometimes thought that we may be too strict
in applying what we know to be absolute, eternal truths, to a
life which is finite, probationary, and liable to be affected by a
thousand influences over which we have no control. For in-
stance, you may analyze your soil, and the stimulants you
apply to it measure your grain, and estimate the exact yield
you ought to receive but yon cannot measure the heat and
moisture, the wind and hail, and the destructive insects which
the summer may bring ; and, therefore, you who sow accord-
ing to agricultural laws may lose your crop, while another,
who disregards them, shall reap an abundant harvest. Yet
the truth of the laws you observed remains the same."
" What would you do, then, to be sure that you are right ?"
the farmer asked, as he opened the gate leading into his lane.
" To continue the comparison, I should say, act as a prudent
Lusbandmau. Believe in the laws which govern the growth
and increase of the seed, yet regulate your tillage according
to the season. The crop is the main thing, and, though it
ouiids like heresy, the farmer may be right who prefers a
good harvest secured hi den'ance of rules to a scanty one with
the observance of them. But I had better drop the figure
before I make a blunder."
" Not a bit of it !" he cried. " You've cheered me up
mightily. There's sense in what you say; queer that it didnt
262 HANNAH TUUKSTON:
come into m) mind before. I'm not sure that I can work my
own case so's to square with it but I'll hold on to the idee."
As they reached the garden, Hannah Thurstou plucked a
white rosebud which had thrust itself through the paling, and
fastened it to the bosom of her dress. Mr. Merryfield imme-
diately gathered six of the largest and reddest cabbage -roses,
and presented them with a friendly air.
" There," said he, " stick them on ! That white thing doii'l
show at all. It's a pity the pineys are all gone."
Mrs. Merryfield, sitting on the shaded portico, rose and met
her visitor at the gate. The women kissed each other, as
usual, though with a shade of constraint on the part of the for-
mer. The farmer, judging it best to leave them alone for a
little while, went back to finish his gleaning.
After they were comfortably seated on the portico, and
Hannah Thurston had laid aside her bonnet, there was an awk-
ward pause. Mrs. Merryfield anticipated an attack, than which
nothing was further from her visitor's thought.
" How quiet and pleasant it is here !" the latter finally said
" It is quite a relief to me to get away from the village."
" People are differently constituted," answered Mrs. Merry
field, with a slight defiance in her manner : " I like society, and
there's not much life on a farm."
" You have enjoyed it so long, perhaps, that you now
scarcely appreciate it properly. A few weeks in our little cot-
tage would satisfy you which is best."
" I must be satisfied, as it is ;" Mrs. Merryfield replied.
' We women have limited missions, I suppose."
She intended herewith to indicate that, although she had do-
Ksted from her purpose, she did not confess that it had becc
wrong. She had sacrificed her own desires, and-the fact should
be set down to her credit. With Mr. Waldo she would havo
been candidly penitent more so, perhaps, than she had yet
allowed her husband to perceive but towards one of her own
sex, especially a champion of social reform, her only feeling waa
a btubboru determination to vindicate her action as far as pos-
A STORY OP AMERICAN LIFE. 263
lible. Hannah Thurston detected the under-current of hei
thought, and strove to avoid an encounter with it.
" Yes," said she ; " I suspect there are few persons of aver
age ambition who find a sphere broad enough to content them,
But our merits, you know, are not measured by that. Too
may be able to accomplish more good, here, in your quiet cir
de of neighbors, than in some more conspicuous place."
"/should be the judge of that," rejoined Mrs. Merryfield,
tartly. Then, feeling that she had been a little too quick, she
added, with mournful meekness : " But I suppose some lights
are meant to be hid, otherways there wouldn't be bushels."
As she spoke, a light which did not mean to be hid, what-
ever the accumulation of bushels, approached from the lane.
It was Seth Wattles, gracefully attired in a baggy blouse of
gray linen, over which, in front, hung the ends of a huge pur-
ple silk cravat. He carried a roll of paper in one hand, and
his head was elevated with a sense of more than usual impor-
tance. The expression of his shapeless mouth became almost
triumphant as he perceived Hannah Thurston. She returned
his greeting with a calmness and self-possession which he mis-
took for a returning interest in himself.
By the time the usual common-places had been exchanged,
Merryfield had returned to the house. Seth, therefore, hastened
to communicate the nature of his errand. "I have been work-
ing out an idea," said he, " which, I think, meets the wants of
the world. It can be improved, no doubt, I don't say that
it's perfect but the fundamental basis is right, I'm sure."
" What is it ?" asked Merryfield, not very eagerly.
" A Plan for the Reorganization of Society, by which we can
Fight on the burden of labor, and avoid the necessity of Govern-
ments, with all their abuses. It is something like Fourier's plan
of Phalansteries, only that don't seem adapted to this country.
And it s too great a change, all at once. My plan can be applied
immediately, because it begins on a smaller scale. I'm sure
it will work, if I can only get it started. A dozen persons are
enough to begin with."
204 HANNAIJ THURSTON:
" Well, how would you begin ?" asked the farmer.
" Take any farm of ordinary size yours for instance and
make of it a small community, who shall represent all the neces-
sary branches of labor. With the aid of machinery, it will be
entirely independent of outside help. You want a small steam
engine, or even a horse-power, to thresh, grind, saw, churn
turn, and hammer. Then, one of the men must be a black
smith and wheelwright, one a tailor, and another a shoe and
harness maker. Flax and sheep will furnish the material foi
clothing, maple and Chinese cane will give sugar, and there
will really be little or nothing to buy. I assume, of course,
that we all discard an artificial diet, and live on the simplest
substances. Any little illness can be cured by hydropathy,
but that would only be necessary in the beginning, for diseases
would soon vanish from such a community. The labor of the
women must also be divided : one will have charge of the gar-
den, another of the dairy, another of the kitchen, and so on.
When any branch of work becomes monotonous, there can be
changes made, so that, in the end, each one will understand all
the different departments. Don't you see ?"
" Yes, I see," said Merryfield.
" I was sure you would. Just consider what an advantage
over the present system ! There need not be a dollar of out-
lay : you can take the houses as they are. Nothing would be
bought, and all the produce of the farm, beyond what the
community required for its support, would be clear gain. In
a few years, this would amount to a fund large enough to hire
all the necessary labor, and the members could then devote the
rest of their lives to intellectual cultivation. My plan is diplo
inatic that's the word. It will reform men, in spice of them
selves, by appealing to two of their strongest passions-
acquisitiveness and love of ease. They would get into a
higher moral atmosphere before they knew it."
" I dare say," Merryfield remarked, as he crossed one leg
over the other, and then put it down again, restlessly. " And
who is to have the general direction of affairs ?"
A STOriY OF AMERICA!! LIFE. 26ft
" Oil, there I apply the republican principle !" Seth exclaimed.
"It -will be decided by vote, after discussion, in which all take
part, women as well as men. Here is my plan for the day.
Each takes his or her turn, week about, to rise before sunrise,
make the fires, and ring a bell to rouse the others. After *
cold plunge-bath, one hour's labor, and then breakfast, accom-
panied by cheerful conversation. Then work until noon, when
dinner is prepared. An hour's rest, and labor again, when
necessary. I calculate, however, that six hours a day will
generally be sufficient. Supper at sunset, followed by discus-
sion and settlement of plans for the next day. Singing in
chorus, half an hour ; dancing, one hour, and conversation on
moral subjects until eleven o'clock, when the bell rings for rest.
You see, the plan combines every thing ; labor, recreation,
society, and mental improvement. As soon as we have estab-
lished a few communities, we can send messengers between
them, and will not be obliged to support the Government
through the Post-Office. Now, I want you to begin the reform."
" Me !" exclaimed Merryfield, with a start.
" Yes, it's the very thing. You have two hundred acres,
and a house big enough for a dozen. I think we can raise the
community in a little while. We can call it ' Merryfield,' or,
if you choose, in Latin Tanner says it's Campus Gaudius, or
something of the kind. It will soon be known, far and wide,
and we must have a name to distinguish it. I have no doubt
the Whitlows would be willing to join us ; Mrs. Whitlow
could take the dairy, and Miss Thurston the garden. He'a
been in the grocery-line : he could make sugar, until he got
acquainted with other kinds of work."
" Dairy, indeed !" interrupted Mrs. Merryfield. " Yes, she'd
like to skim cream and drink it by the tumbler-full, no doubt.
A delightful community it would be, with the cows in her
charge, somebody else in the bedrooms, and me seeing to the
kitchen !'
"Before I'd agree to it, I'd see all the communities "
Mr. Merryfield' s exclamation terminated with a stronger
12
266 HANNAH THURSTON:
word than his wife had heard him utter for years. He jumped
from his seat, as he spoke, and strode up and down the portico.
Hannah Thurston, in spite of a temporary shock at the unex-
pected profanity, felt that her respect for James Merryfield
had undergone a slight increase. She was a little surprised at
horself, that it should be so. As for Seth Wattles, he was
completely taken aback. He had surmised that his plan might
meet with some technical objections, but he was certain that
it would be received with sympathy, and that he should finally
persuade the farmer to accept it. Had the latter offered him
a glass of whiskey, or drawn a bowie-knife from his sleeve, he
could not have been more astounded. He sat, with open
mouth and staring eyes, not knowing what to say.
" Look here, Seth," said Merryfield, pausing in his walk ;
" neither you nor me aVt a-going to reform the world. A
good many things a'n't right, I know, and as far as talking
goes, we can speak our mind about 'em. But when it comes
to fixing them yourself, I reckon you want a little longer ap-
prenticeship first. I sha'n't try it at my age. Make as pretty
a machine as you like, on paper, but don't think you'll set it
up in my house. There's no inside works to it, and it won't go."
" Why why," Seth stammered, " I always thought you
were in favor of Social Reform."
" So I am but I want, first, to see how it's to be done
I'll tell you what to do. Neither you nor Tanner are married,
and have no risk to run. Take a couple more with you, and
et up a household : do your cooking, washing, sweeping, and
bed-making, by turns, and if you hold together six months,
and say you're satisfied, I'll have some faith in your plan."
"And get Mrs. Whitlow to be one of your Community,"
added Mrs. Merryfield, "or the experiment won't be worth
much. Let her take care of your dairy, and Mary Wollstone-
craft and Phillis Wheatley tend to your garden. Send me
word when you're ready, and I'll come and see how you get
onl"
" I don't need to work, as it is, more than's healthy for me,"
A STOKT OF AMERICAN LIPB. 267
her husband continued, " and I don't want Sarah to, neither.
I can manage my farm without any trouble, and I've no notion
of taking ten green hands to bother me, and then have to di-
vide my profits with them. Show me a plan that'll give me
something more than I have, instead of taking away the most
of it."
" Why, the society, the intellectual cultivation," Seth re-
marked, but in a hopeless voice.
"I don't know as I've much to learn from either you or Tan-
ner. As for Whitlows, all I can say is, I've tried 'em. But
what do you think of it, Hannah ?"
" Very much as you do. I, for one, am certainly not ready
to try any such experiment," Miss Thurston replied. " I still
think that the family relation is natural, true, and necessary,
yet I do net wonder that those who have never known it should
desire something better than the life of a boarding-house. I
know what that is."
" Seth," said Merryfield, recovering from his excitement,
which, he now saw, was quite incomprehensible to the disap-
pointed tailor, " there's one conclusion I've come to, and I'd
advise you to turn it over in your own mind. You and me may
be right in our idees of what's wrong and what ought to be
changed, but we're not the men to set things right. I'm not
Garrison, nor yet Wendell Phillips, nor you a what's his
name ? that Frenchman ? oh, Furrier, and neither of them's
done any thing yet but talk and write. We're only firemen on
the train, as it were, and if we try to drive the engine, we may
just run every thing to smash "
The trying experience through which Merryfield had passed,
was not without its good res alts. There was a shade more of
drmness in his manner, of directness in his speech. The mere
tentiment of the reform, which had always hung about him
awkwardly, and sometimes even ludicrously, seemed to have
quite disappeared ; and though his views had not changed at
least, not consciously so they passed through a layer of re-
awakened practical sense somewhere between the organs of
268 HANNAH TIIURSTO.V :
thought and speech, and thus assumed a different coloring.
He was evidently recovering from that very prevalent disor-
der an actual paralysis of the reasoning faculties, which the
rictim persists in considering as their highest state of activity
Seth had no spirit to press any further advocacy of his sub-
lime scheme. He merely heaved a sigh of coarse texture, and
remarked, in a desponding tone : " There's not much satisfac-
tion in seeing the Right, unless you can help to fulfil it. I may
not have more than one talent, but I did not expect you to
offer me a napkin to tie it up in."
This was the best thing Seth ever said. It surprised him-
self, and he repeated it so often afterwards, that the figure be-
came as inevitable a part of his speeches, as the famous two
horsemen, in a certain author's novels.
Merry field, seeing how completely he was vanquished, be-
came the kind host again and invited him to stay for tea.
Then, harnessing one of his farm-horses, he drove into Ptolemy
for his semi-weekly mail, taking Hannah Thurston with him.
As they were about leaving, Mrs. Merryfield suddenly ap-
peared at the gate, with a huge bunch of her garden flowers,
and a basket of raspberries, for the Widow Thurston. She was,
in reality, very grateful for the visit. It had dissipated a secret
anxiety which had begun to trouble her during the previous
two or three days.
"Who knows" she said to herself, sitting on the portico in
the t wilight, while a breeze from the lake shook the woodbines
on the lattice, and bathed her in their soothing balm " who
kno w but there are Mrs. Whitlows, or worse, there, too 1"
A. 6TOBY OF AMERICAN LIFE.
CHAPTER XXI.
WTTH AN ENTIRE CHANGE OF SCE2HB.
AFTEB leaving Lakeside, Maxwell Woodbury first directed
his course to Niagara, to refresh himself with its inexhaustible
beauty, before proceeding to the great lakes of the North-
west. His intention was, to spend six or eight weeks amid
the bracing atmosphere and inspiring scenery of the Northern
frontier, both as a necessary change from his quiet life on the
farm, and in order to avoid the occasional intense heat of the
Atauga Valley. From Niagara he proceeded to Detroit and
Mackinaw, where, enchanted by the bold shores, the wild
woods, and the marvellous crystal of the water, he remained
for ten days. A change of the weather to rain and cold obli-
ged him to turn his back on the attractions of Lake Superior
and retrace his steps to Niagara. Thence, loitering down the
northern shore of Ontario, shooting the rapids of the Thousand
Isles, or delaying at the picturesque French settlements on the
Lower St. Lawrence, he reached Quebec in time to take one
of the steamboats to the Saguenay.
At first, the superb panorama over which the queenly city :B
yuthroned the broad, undulating shores, dotted with the cot-
ages ui'the habitans the green and golden fields of the Isle
^'Orleans, basking in the sun the tremulous silver veil of the
cataract of Montinorency, fluttering down the dark rocks, and
the blue ranges of the distant Laurentian mountains absorbed
all the new keenness of his faculties. Standing on the prow of
the hurricane-d^ck, he inhaled the life of a breeze at once
resinous from interminable forests of larch and fir, and sharp
270 HANNAH THURSTOflC
with the salt of the ocean, as he watched the grander sweef
of the slowly separating shores. Except a flock of Quebecken
on their way to Murray Bay and Riviere du Loup, there were
but few passengers on board. A professor from a college in
New Hampshire, rigid in his severe propriety, looked through
nis gold-rimmed spectacles, and meditated on the probable
geology of the headland of Les Eboulemens ; two Georgians,
who smoked incessantly, and betrayed in their accent that of
the negro children with whom they had played, commented,
with unnecessary loudness, on the miserable appearance of the
Canadian "peasants;" a newly-married pair from Cincinnati
sat apart from the rest, dissolved in tender sentiment; and
a tall, stately lady, of middle age, at the stern of the boat,
acted at the same time as mother, guide, and companion to two
very pretty children a girl of fourteen and a boy of twelve.
As the steamboat halted at Murray Bay to land a number of
passengers, Woodbury found time to bestow some notice on
his fellow-travellers. His attention was at once drawn to the
lady and children. The plain, practical manner in which they
were dressed for the journey denoted refinement and cultiva-
tion. The Cincinnati bride swept the deck with a gorgeous
purple silk ; but this lady wore a coarse, serviceable gray
cloak over her travelling-dress of brown linen, and a hat of
gray straw, without ornament. Her head was turned *owardf
the shore, and Woodbury could not see her face; but the
sound of her voice, as she spoke to the children, took familiar
hold of his ear. He had certainly heard that voice before;
but where, and when ? The boat at last backed away from
the piur, and she turned her head. Her face was a long oval,
with regular and noble features, the brow still smooth and
serene, the dark eyes soft and bright, but the -hair prematurely
gray on the temples. Her look had that cheerful calmnesg
which is the maturity of a gay, sparkling temperament of
youth, and which simply reserves, not loses, its fire.
Woodbury involuntarily struck his hand upon his forehead,
with a sudden effort of memory. Perhaps noticing this action,
A STOKT OP AMERICAN LIFE. 27 1
the lady looked towards him and their eyes met. Hers, too,
betrayed surprise and semi-recognition. He stepped instantly
forward.
" I beg pardon," said he, " if I am mistaken, but I feel sure
that I have once known you as Miss Julia Remington. Am I
not right ?"
"That was my name fifteen years ago," she answered, slowly.
41 Why cannot I recall yours ? I remember your face."
" Do you not remember having done me the honor to attend
a soiree which I gave, at the corner of Bowery and
street ?"
" Mr. Woodbury !" she exclaimed, holding out both her
hands . " how glad I am to see you again ! Who could have
dreamed that two old friends should come from Calcutta and
St. Louis to meet at the mouth of the Saguenay ?"
" St. Louis !"
" Yes, St. Louis has been my home for the last ten years.
But you must know my present name Blake : wife of An-
drew Blake, and mother of Josephine and George, besides
twx. younger ones, waiting for me at Saratoga. Come here,
Josey ; come, George this is Mr. Woodbury, whom I used to
know many, many years ago in New York. You must be
good friends with him, and perhaps he will tell you of the
wonderful ball he once gave."
Woodbury laughed, and cordially greeted the children, who
came to him with modest respect, but without embarrassment.
Long before the boat had reached Riviere du Loup, the old
friendship was sweetly re-established, and two new members
introduced into its circle.
Mrs. Blake had been spending some weeks at Saratoga,
partly with her husband and partly alone, while he attended to
some necessary business in Xew York and Philadelphia. Thig
business had obliged him to give up his projected trip to the
Saguenay, and it was arranged that his wife should make it in
company with the two oldest children, the youngest being
left, meanwhile, in the care of a faithful servant.
272 HANNAH THUESTOV
Woodbury had always held Miss Remington in gratofiu
remembrance, and it was a great pleasure to him to meet her
thus unexpectedly. He found her changed in outward appear
ance, but soon perceived that her admirable common sense, hxr
faithful, sturdily independent womanhood, were still, as for-
merly, the basis of her nature. She was one of those rare
women who are at the same time as clear and correct as pos
sible in their perceptions, penetrating all the disguises and
illusions of life, yet unerringly pure and true in instinct and
feeling. Such are almost the only women with whom thor-
oughly devdoped and cultivated men can form those intimate
and permanent friendships, in which both heart and brain
find the sweetest repose, without the necessity of posting a
single guard on any of the avenues which lead to danger.
Few women, and still fewer men, understand a friendship of
this kind, and those who possess it must brave suspicion and
misunderstanding at every turn.
The relation between Woodbury and Miss Remington hac
never, of course, attained this intimacy, but they now instinc-
tively recognized its possibility. Both had drunk of the cuj
of knowledge since their parting, and they met again on a
more frank and confidential footing than they had previously
known. Mrs. Blake was so unconsciously correct in her im-
pulses that she never weighed and doubted, before obeying
them. The wand of her spirit never bent except where the
hidden stream was both pure and strong.
That evening, as the boat halted at Riviere du Loup f:r the
night, they walked the hurricane-deck in the long Northern
twilight, and talked of the Past. Many characters had faded
au ay from the sight of both ; others had either fallen from
their early promise, or soared surprisingly far above it ; but
all, with their attendant loves, and jealousies, and hates, stood
out sharp and clear in the memory of the speakers. Mrs.
Blake, then, in answer to Woodbury's inquiries, gave him a
rapiu sketch of her own life.
"I am quite satisfied,'' sho said at the close. "My husband
A STORY OP AMERICAN LIFE. 273
ifl not exactly the preux chevalier I used to imagine, as a girl,
but he is a true gentleman"
"You never could have married him, if he were not,'
Woodbury interrupted.
" a true gentleman, and an excellent man of business,
which is as necessary in this age as knighthood was in those
famous Middle ones. Our married life has been entirely happy
from the start, because we mutually put aside our illusions,
and made charitable allowances for each other. "We did not
attempt to cushion the sharp angles, but courageously clashed
them together until they were beaten into roundness."
She broke into a pleasant, quiet laugh, and then went on :
" I want you to know my husband. You are very different,
but there are points of contact which, I think, would attract both.
You have in common, at least, a clear, intelligent faculty of
judgment, which is a pretty sure sign of freemasonry be-
tween man and man. I don't like Carlyle as an author, yet I
indorse, heart and soul, his denunciation of shams. But here
I am at the end of my history : now tell me yours."
She listened with earnest, sympathetic interest to Wood
bury's narrative, and the closing portion, which related to his
life at Lakeside, evidently aroused her attention more than all
the lazy, uneventful tropical years he had spent in Calcutta.
When he had finished the outlines, she turned suddenly to-
wards him and asked : " Is there nothing more ?"
" What should there be ?" he asked in return, with a smile
which showed that he understood her question.
"What should be, is not, I know," said she; "I saw that
much, at once. You will allow me to take a liberty which
I aai sure cannot now give pain : she is not the cause of
it, 1 hope?"
She looked him full in the face, and felt relieved as she de-
tected no trace of a pang which her words might have called
up. The expression of his lips softened rather to pity as he
answered : " She has long ceased to have any part in my life,
and she has now very little in my thoughts. When I saw he/
12*
274 HANNAH THURSTON:
again, last winter, there was not a single fibre of my heart dis
turbed. I will confess this much, however another face, a
more hopeless memory, long ago displaced hers. Both ar
gone, and I am now trying to find a third."
Ilis tone was apparently light and indifferent, but to Mrs
Blake's true ear it betrayed both weariness and longing,
" You cannot be deceived the third time," she said, con-
solingly.
" I was not deceived the second time," he answered, "but 1
will not tell you the story, just now. It is as completely at an
end as if it -had never happened. Can you help me to another
trial?"
She shook her head. "It is strange that so few of the best
men and women discover each other. Nature must be op-
posed to the concentration of qualities, and continually striving
to reconcile the extremes ; I cannot account for it in any other
way. You are still young ; but do not carelessly depend on
your youth ; you are not aware how rapidly a man's habits
become ossified, at your age. Marriage involves certain mu-
tual sacrifices, under the most favorable circumstances. Don't
trust too long to your own strength."
" Ah, but where is the girl with your clear sense, Mrs. Blake?"
asked Woodbury, pausing in his walk. " My wife must be
strong enough to know her husband as he was and is. The de-
ceits which so many men habitually practise, disgust me. Who
would hear my confession, and then absolve me by love?"
" Who ? Almost every woman that loves ! No : I will
make no exceptions, because the woman who would not do so,
does not really love. Men are cowards, because they fancy
f.fcat women are, and so each sex cheats itself through want -jf
faith in the other. Is that a recent misgiving of yours ?"
" You are a dangerous friend, Mrs. Blake. Your husband,
I suspect, is forced to be candid, out of sheer despair at the
possibility of concealing any thing from you. Yes, you have
interpreted my thought correctly. I spoke with reference to
one particular person, whom I am very far from loving, or even
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 275
desiring to love, but whose individuality somewhat interests
me. A woman's ideal of man, I am afraid, rises in proportion
to her intellectual culture. From the same cause, she is not so
dependent on her emotions, and therefore more calculating and
exacting. Is it not so ?"
M No, it is not so !" replied Mrs. Blake, with energy. " Re-
collect, we are not speaking of the sham women."
" She does not helong to that class," said Woodbury. "She
is, in many respects, a rare and noble character ; she possesses
natural qualities of mind which place her far above the average
of women ; she is pure as a saint, bold and brave, and yet
thoroughly feminine in all respects save one but that one
exceptional feature neutralizes all the others."
" What is it ?"
" She is strong-min'ded."
" "What !" exclaimed Mrs. Blake, " do you mean a second
Bessie Stryker ?"
" Something of the kind so far as I know. She is one of
the two or three really intelligent women in Ptolemy but
with the most singularly exaggerated sense of duty. Some
persons would have censured me more considerately for for-
gery or murder than she did for smoking a cigar. I discussed
the subject of Women's Rights with her, the last thing before
leaving home, and found her as intolerant as the rankest Con-
servative. What a life such a woman would lead one ! Yet,
I confess she provokes me, because, but for that one fault, she
would be worth winning. It is vexatious to see a fine creature
so spoiled."
" With all her fanaticism, she seems to have made a strong
impression on you."
"Yes, I do not deny it," Woodbury candidly replied.
' How could it be otherwise ? In the first place, she is still
omething of a phenomenon to me, and therefore stimulates
my curiosity. Secondly, she is far above ah 1 the other girls of
fr'tolernv, both in intellect and in natural refinement. She
oiakes the others ^o tame that, while I could not possibly lovf
2^6 HANNAEI THURS1OJ<:
her, she prevents me from loving any of them. What am t
to do ?"
" A difficult case, upon my word. If I knew the characters,
T might assist you to a solution. The only random suggestion
I can make is this : if the strong-minded woman should come
to love you, in spite of her strength, it will make short work
of her theories of women's rights. Our instincts are stronger
than our ideas, and the brains of some of us run wild only
because our hearts are unsatisfied. I should probably have
been making speeches through the country, in a Bloomer
dress, by this time, if I had not met with my good Andrew.
You need not laugh : I am quite serious. And I can give you
one drop of comfort, before you leave the confessional : I see
that your feelings are fresh and healthy, without a shade of
cynicism : as we say in the West, the latch-string of your
heart has not been pulled in, and I predict that somebody will
yet open the door. Good-night 1"
Giving his hand a hearty nonest pressure of sympathy,
Mrs. Blake went to her state-room. Woodbury leaned over
the stern-railing, and gazed upor. the sprinkles of reflected
starlight in the bosom of the St. Lawrence. The waves
lapped on the stones of the wharf with a low, liquid murmur,
and a boatman, floating upwards with the tide, sang at a dis-
tance : " Jamais je ne foublierai" Woodbury mechanically
caught the melody and sang the words after him, till boat and
voice faded together out of sight and hearing. It refreshed
rather than disturbed him that the eye of a true woman had
looked upon his heart. " Whatever may be the end," he said
to himself, " she shall know the whole truth, one day. When
WG suspect that a seed of passion may have been dropped in
>ur natures, we must quietly wait until we feel that it has put
forth roots. I did not tell her the whole truth. I am not
sure but that I may love that girl, with all her mistaken views.
Her face follows me, and calls rne back. If each of us could
out find the other's real self, then why, then"
lie did not follow the thought further. The old pang arose^
A 'STOBY OF AMEEICAN LIFE. 277
the old hunger of the heart came over him, and brought with
it those sacred yearnings for the tenderer ties which follow
marriage, and which man, scarcely less than "woman, craves.
The red lights of two cigars came down the long pier, side by
side : it was the Georgians, returning from a visit to the vil-
lage. The New Hampshire Professor approached him, and
politely remarked : " It is singular that the Old Red Sandstone
reappears in this locality."
" Very singular," answered Woodbury. " Good-night, Sir I n
and went to bed.
The next morning the steamer crossed to Tadoussac, and
entered the pitch-brown waters of the savage, the sublime, the
mysterious Saguenay. The wonderful scenery of this river,
or rather fiord, made the deepest impression on the new-made
friends. It completely banished from their minds the conver-
sation of the previous evening. Who could speak or even
think of love, or the tender sorrow that accompanies the
memory of betrayed hopes, in the presence of this stern and
tremendous reality. Out of water which seemed thick and
sullen as the stagnant Styx, but broke into a myriad beads of
dusky amber behind the steamer's paddles, leaped now and
then a white porpoise, weird and solitary as the ghost of a
murdered fish. On either side rose the headlands of naked
granite, walls a thousand feet in height, cold, inaccessible,
terrible ; and even where, split apart by some fore-world con-
vulsion, they revealed glimpses up into the wilderness behind,
no cheating vapor, no haze of dreams, softened the distant
picture, but the gloomy green of the fir-forests darkened into
indigo blue, and stood hard and cold against the gray sky.
After leaving L'Anse a 1'Eau, all signs of human life ceased.
X<> boat floated on the black glass ; no fisher's hut crouched in
the sheltered coves; no settler's axe had cut away a single
feather from the ragged plumage of the hills.
But as they reached the awful cliffs of Trinity and Eternity,
rising straight as plummet falls from their bases, a thousand
eet below the surface, to their crests, fifteen hundred feet it
278 HANNA.H THURSTON:
the air, a wind blew out of the north, tearing and rolling
away the gray covering of the sky, and allowing sudden flooda
of sunshine to rush down through the blue gaps. The hearts
of the travellers were lifted, as by the sound of trumpets.
Far back from between the two colossal portals of rock, like
the double propylse of some Theban temple, ran a long, deef
gorge of the wilderness, down which the coming sunshine
relied like a dazzling inundation, drowning the forests in
splendor, pouring in silent cataracts over the granite walls,
and painting the black bosom of the Saguenay with the blue
of heaven. It was a sudden opening of the Gates of the
North, and a greeting from the strong Genius who sat en
throned beyond the hills, not in slumber and dreams, like his
languid sister of the South, cooling her dusky nakedness in the
deepest shade, but with the sun smiting his unflinching eyes,
with his broad, hairy breast open to the wind, with the best
blood of the world beating loud and strong in his heart, and
the seed of empires in his virile loins !
Woodbury was not one of your " gushing" characters, who
cry out " Splendid !" " Glorious !" on the slightest provocation.
When most deeply moved by the grander aspects of Nature.
he rarely spoke ; but he had an involuntary habit of singing
softly to himself, at such times. So he did now, quite uncon-
sciously, and had got as far as :
" Thy heart is in the upper world,
And where the chamois bound ;
Thy heart is where the mountain fir
Shakes to the torrent's sound ;"
when he suddenly checked himself and turned away witt
a laugh and a light blush of self-embarrassment. He had beer
picturing to himself the intense delight which Hannah Thurs
ton would have felt in the scene before him.
Meanwhile the boat sped on, and soon reached the end of
the voyage at Ha-ha Bay. Mrs. Blake and her children wer
delighted with their journey, to which the meeting with
A. 8TOET OF AMERICAN LIFJB. 278
Woodbury had given such an additional charm. As they
descended the Saguenay in the afternoon, their eyes grew ac-
customed to the vast scale of the scenery; loftier and grander
arose the walls of granite, and more wild and awful yawned
the gorges behind them. The St. Lawrence now opened in
front with the freedom of the sea, and in the crimson light of
a superb sunset they returned to Riviere du Loup.
The companionship was not dropped after they had reached
Quebec. Woodbury accompanied them to the Falls of the
Montmorency and the Chaudiere ; to the Plains of Abraham
and the quaint French villages on the shores ; and their even-
ings were invariably spent on Durham Terrace, to enjoy,
over and over again, the matchless view. It was arranged
that they should return to Saratoga together, by way of Cham-
plain and Lake George; and a few more days found them
there, awaiting the arrival of Mr. Blake.
He came at last ; and his wife had not incorrectly judged,
in supposing that there were some points of mutual attraction
between the two men. The Western merchant, though a
shrewd and prudent man of business, was well educated, had
a natural taste for art (he had just purchased two pictures by
Church and Kensett), and was familiar with the literature of
the day. He was one of those fortunate men who are capable
of heartily enjoying such things, without the slightest ambition
to produce them. He neither complained of his own vocation,
nor did he lightly esteem it. He was not made for idle
indulgence, and was sufficiently prosperous to allow himself
proper recreation. His temperament, therefore, was healthy,
cheerful, and stimulating to those with whom he came in con-
tact He was by no means handsome, and had a short
abrupt manner of speaking, which Woodbury's repose of
manner threw into greater distinctness. His wife, howevei,
knew his true value, as he knew hers, and their mutual con
6denct was absolute.
Woodbury strongly ur<.re<l them to spend a few days with
nim at Lakeside, on their ret -.in. jo unify to St. Louis. In ad-
280 -HANNAH THURSTON:
dition to the pleasure he derived from their society, he had 8
secret desire that Mrs. Blake should see Hannah Thtirston a
curiosity to know the impression which the two women would
make on each other. What deeper motive lurked behind this,
he did not question.
The discussion of the proposal reminded him that he had
not heard from Lakeside since his departure. He immediately
wrote to Arbutus Wilson, announcing his speedy return, and
asking for news of the farming operations. Six days after-
wards an answer came, net from Arbutus, but from Mr
Waldo an answer of a nature so unexpected, that he left
Saratoga the same night.
A 8TOKY Of AMERICAN LIFE.
CHAPTER XXH.
AFTER Woodbury had left Lakeside for his summer tour,
Mrs. Fortitude Babb resumed her ancient authority. " Now,"
she said to Bute, as they sat down to supper on the day of
his departure, "now we'll have a quiet time of it. A body'll
know what to do without waitin' to be told whether it's jist
to other people's likin's."
" Why, Mother Forty," said Bute, " Mr. Max. Is as quiet a
man as you'll find anywhere."
"Much you know about him, Bute. He lets you go on
farmin' in y'r own way, pretty much ; but look at my gard'n
tore all to pieces ! The curran' bushes away at t'other end
half a mile off, if you want to git a few pies and the kersan-
thums stuck into the yard in big bunches, among the grass '
What would she say, if she could see it? And the little
room for bed-clo'es, all cleaned out, and a big bathin' tub in
the corner, and to be filled up every night. Thank the Lord,
he can't find nothin' to say ag'in my cookin'. If he was to
come pokin' his nose into the kitchen every day, I dunno what
I'd do !"
"It's his own garden," said Bute, sturdily. "He's paid fbi
it, and he's got a right to do what he pleases with it. J
would, if 't'was mine."
" Oh yes, you ! You're gittin' mighty independent, seems
to me. I 'xpect nothin' else but you'll go off some day with
that reedic'lous thing with the curls."
"Mother Forty!" said Bute, rising suddenly from the
IBS HANNAH THUBSTOK:
table, " don't you mention her name ag'in. I don't want U
see her any more, nor I don't want to bear of her 1"
He strode out of the house with a fiery face. Mrs. Babt
sat, as if thunderstruck. Little \>y little, however, a presenti-
ment of the truth crept through her stiff brain : she drew her
thin lips firmly together and nodded her head. The sense of
relief which she first felt, on Bute's account, was soon lost,
nevertheless, in an angry feeling toward Miss Carrie Dilworth,
Utterly unaware of her own inconsistency, she asked herself
what the little fool meant by turning up her nose at such a
fine young fellow as Arbutus the very pick of the farmers
about Ptolemy, though she, Fortitude Babb, said it ! Where
would she find a man so well-built and sound, so honest and
good-hearted? Everybody liked him; there were plenty of
girls that would jump at the chance of having him for a hus-
band but no, he was not good enough for her. Ugh ! the
nasty, pert, stuck-up little hussy I That comes o' wearin' your
hair like an Injun ! But Arbutus mustn't mind ; there's as good
fish in the sea as ever was ketched, and better too. 'Twas
reasonable, after all, that he should marry some time ; a man's
a man, though you brought him up youiself; and the best
way is to take hold and help, when you can't hinder it.
Thereitpon, she set her wits to work to discover the right
kind of a wife for her step-step-son. It was a perplexing SUD-
ject : one girl was slatternly, another was unhealthy, a third
was too old, a fourth had disagreeable relatives, a fifth was as
poor as Job's turkey. Where was the compound of youth,
health, tidiness, thrift, and, most important of all, the proper
respect for Mrs. Babb's faculties ? " I'll find her yet !" she said
to herself, as she sat at her knitting, in the drowsy summer after-
noons. Meanwhile, her manner towards Bute grew kindei
and more considerate a change for which he was not in the
least grateful. lie interpreted it as the expression of her
satisfaction witli the disappointment under which he still
smarted. He became moody and silent, and before many days
bad elapsed Mrs. Babb was forced to confess to herself that
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFB. 288
Lakeside was lonely and uncomfortable without the presence
of Mr. "Woodbury.
As for Bute, though he felt that he was irritable and heavy,
compared with his usual cheerful mood, there was more the
matter with him than he supposed. The experience through
whil h he had passed disturbed the quiet course of his blood.
Tike a mechanism, the action of which is even and perfectly
balanced at a certain rate of speed, but tends to inevitable con-
fusion when the speed is increased, his physical balance was
sadly disarranged by the excitement of his emotional nature
and the sudden shock which followed it. Days of feverish
activity, during which he did the work of two men without
finding the comfort of healthy fatigue, were followed by days
of weariness and apathy, when the strength seemed to be gone
from his arm, and the good-will to labor from his heart. His
sleep was either restless and broken, or so unnaturally pro-
found that he arose from it with a stunned, heavy head.
Among the summer's work which Mr. Woodbury had or-
dered, after wheat-harvest, was the draining of a swampy field
which sloped towards Roaring Brook. An Irish ditcher had
been engaged to work upon it, but Bute, finding that much
more must be done than had been estimated, and restless
almost to nervousness, assisted with his own hands. Day
after day, with his legs bare to the thighs, he stood in the oozy
muck, plying pick and shovel under the burning sun. Night
after night, he went to bed with a curiously numb and dead-
ened feeling, varied only by nervous starts and thrills, as if the
bed \\ T ere suddenly sinking under him.
One morning, he did not get up at the usual hour. Mrs.
Babb went on with her labors for breakfast, expecting every
moment to see him come down and wash his face at tne pump
outside the kitchen-door. The bacon was fried, the coffee was
boiled, and still he did not appear. She opened the door of
the kitchen staircase, and called in her shrillest tones, one,
two, three times, until finally an answer reached her from
the bedroom. Five minutes afterwards, Bute blundered
284 HA.NNAH THURSTON:
down the steps, and, seeing the table ready, took his accus-
tomed seat.
" Well, Arbutus, you have slep', sure enough. I s'pose yoa
was tired from yisterday, though," said Mrs. Babb, as she
transferred the bacon from the frying-pan to a queensware
dish. Hearing no answer, she turned around. " Gracious
alive!" she exclaimed, "are you a-goin' to set down to break-
fast without washin' or combin' your hair? I do believe
you're asleep yit."
Bute said nothing, but looked at her with a silly smile which
seemed to confirm her words.
"Arbutus!" she cried out, "wake up! You don't kno\
what you're about. Dash some water on your face, child ; if
I ever saw the like !" and she took hold of his shoulder with
one of her bony hands.
He twisted it petulantly out of her grasp. "I'm tired,
Mike," he said : " if the swamp wasn't so wet, I'd like to lay
down and sleep a spell."
The rigid joints of Mrs. Babb's knees seemed to give way
suddenly. She dropped into the chair beside him, lifted hia
face in both her trembling hands, and looked into his eyes.
There was no recognition in them, and their wild, wandering
glance froze her blood. His cheeks burned like fire, and his
head dropped heavily, the next moment, on his shoulder. "This
tussock'll do," he murmured, and relapsed into unconsciousness.
Mrs. Babb shoved her chair nearer, and allowed his head to
rest on her shoulder, while she recovered her strength. There
was no one else in the house. Patrick, the field-hand, was at
the barn, and was accustomed to be called to his breakfast.
Once she attempted to do this, hoping that her voice might
reach him, but it was such an unnatural, dismal. croak, that sha
gave up in despair. Bute started and flung one arm around
her neck with a convulsive strength which almost strangled her.
After that, she did not dare to move or speak. The cofiee-pot
boiled over, and the scent of the scorched liquid filled the
kitchen; the fat in the frying-pan, which she had thought-
A STOKI OF AMERICAN LIFE. 28A
lessly set on the stove again, on seeing Bute, slowly dried to
a crisp, and she knew that the bottom of the pan would be
ruined. These minor troubles strangely thrust themselves
athwart the one great, overwhelming trouble of her heart, and
confused her thoughts. Bute was deathly sick, and stark,
staring mad, was the only fact which she could realize ; an 3
with her left hand, which was free, she gradually and stealth-
ily removed his knife, fork, and plate, and pushed back the
table-cloth as far as she could reach. Then she sat rigidly as
before, listening to the heavy, irregular breathing of the inva-
lid, and scorched by his burning head.
Half an hour passed before Patrick's craving stomach
obliged him to disregard the usual call. Perhaps, he finally
thought, he had not heard it, and he then betook himself at
once t the house. The noise he made in opening the kitchen-
door, startled Bute, who clinched his right fist and brought it
down on the table.
" Holy mother !" exclaimed Patrick, as he saw the singular
group.
Mrs. Babb turned her head with difficulty, and shook it as
a sign of caution, looking at him with wide, suffering eyes,
trom which the tears now first flowed, when she saw that help
and sympathy had come to her at last.
"God preserve us! och, an' he isn't dead?" whispered
Patrick, advancing a step nearer, and ready to burst into a
ioud wail.
" He's sick ! he's crazy !" Mrs. Babb breathed hoarsely, in
reply : "help me to git him to bed !"
The Irishman supported Bute by the shoulders, while Mrs
JJabb gently and cautiously relieved herself from his choking
arm. "Without Pat's help ; t is difficult to say what she would
have done. Tender as a woman, and gifted with all the whimsi,
cil cunning of his race, he humored Bute's delirious fancies to
the utmost, soothing instead of resisting or irritating him, and
with infinite patience and difficulty succeeded in getting hin?
back into his bedroom. Here Mrs. Babb remade his bed, put
286 HANNAH THURSTON:
ting, on fresh sheets aud pillows, and the two undressed and laid
him in it. The first thing she then did was to cut off his long
yellow locks close to the head, and apply a wet cloth ; beyond
that, which she had heard was always used in such cases, she
did not dare to go.
The next thing was, to procure medical assistance. Thera
were no other persons about the house, and both of them
together, it seemed probable, would scarcely be able to man-
ago the patient, if a violent paroxysm should come on. Mrs.
Babb insisted on remaining by him; but Patrick, who had
seen similar attacks of fever, would not consent to this. He
swore by all the saints that she would find Bute safely in bed
on her return. She need not go farther than black Melinda's
cabin, he said ; it was not over three-quarters of a mile. She
could send Melinda for the doctor, and for Misther Merryfield
too that 'ud be better ; and then come directly back, herself.
Mrs. Babb gave way to these representations, and hurried
forth on her errand. Her stiff old joints cracked with the
violence of her motion ; she was agitated by remorse as well
as anxiety. She had been a little hard on the lad ; what if he
should die without forgiving her, and should go straight to
heaven (as of course he would) and tell his own mother and
Jason Babb, who was so fond of him ? In that case, Jason
would certainly be angry with her, and perhaps would not
allow her to sit beside him on the steps of the Golden City,
when her time came. Fortunately, she found old Melinda
at home, and despatched her with the injunction to "go down
to Merryfield's as hard as you can scoot, and tell him to ride for
the doctor, and then you come directly back to the housa'*
Melinda at once strode away, with her eyes fixed before her,
muttering fragments of camp-meeting hymns. -
When Mrs. Babb returned, she found Bute still in bed, pant-
hag from evident exhaustion. The wet cloth was on his head
and the bed-clothes were straight. Patrick turned away hia
face from the light, and said : " Sure, an' he's been as quiet aa
a lamb" an assertion which was disprove;! the next day b
A STOllY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 28 11
the multitude of indigo blotches, the marks of terrible blows,
which appeared on his own face, breast, and arras. What haj>-
pened while they were alone, Patrick always avoided telling,
except to the priest. To his mind, there was a sanctity about
delirium, the secrets of which it would be criminal to betray
In two or three hours more the physician arrived, accom-
panied by Merryfield. The former pronounced Butu to be
aboriug under a very dangerous attack of congestive fever, oi
a typhoid character. He bled him 'sufficiently to reduce the
excitement of the brain, prescribed the usual medicines, a little
increased in quantity, and recommended great care and exact-
ness in administering them. When he descended the stairs,
the housekeeper stole after him, and grasped his arm as he
entered the hall.
" Doctor," she asked, in her stern manner, " I jist want to
know the truth. Is he goiu' to git over it, or isn't he ?"
" The chances are about even, Mrs. Babb," the physician re-
plied. " I will not disguise from you the fact that it's a very
serious case. If his constitution were not so fine, I should feel
almost like giving him up. I will only say this : if we can
keep him for a week, without growing much worse, we shall
get the upper hand of the fever. It depends on his nurses,
even more than on me."
" Til nuss him!" Mrs. Babb exclaimed, defiantly. "A week,
djid you say ? A week a'n't a life-time, and I can stand it. 1
stood more'n that, when Jason was sick. Don't be concerned
about your orders, Sir : I'VE TOOK 'EM TO HEART, and thai 'e
enough said."
The housekeeper went back to the kitchen, clinching bei
fists and nodding her head the meaning of which was, that
there was to be a fair stand-up fight between Death and her-
sell', for the possession of Arbutus Wilson, and that Death was
Uot going to be the victor, no, not if he took herself instead,
out of spite. Then <ind there she commenced her plan of de-
fence. Those precautions which the physician had recommend
ed '.vere taken with a Draconian severity : what he had forbid
$88 HANNAH
den ceased to have a possibility of existence. Quiet, of course
was included in his orders, and never was a household eon
ducted with so little noise. The sable Melinda, having let a
pot-lid fall on the kitchen-floor, found her arm instantly grasp-
ed in a bony vice, while an awful voice whispered in her ear
(Mrs. Babb had ceased to speak otherwise, even when she
wont to the garden) " Don't you dare to do that ag'in !" She
prepared and applied the blisters and poultices with her
own hands; administered the medicines punctually to the
second, whether by day or by night ; and the invalid could not
turn in his bed but she seemed to know it, by some sort of
clairvoyance, in whatever part of the house she might be at
the time. At night, although Patrick and Mr. Merryfield vol-
unteered to watch by turns, and tried to induce her to sleep,
she never undressed, but lay down on her bed in an adjoining
chamber, and made her appearance in the sick-room, tall, dark,
and rigid, every half-hour. She would listen with a fearful
interest to Bute's ravings, whether profane or passionate,
dreading to hear some accusation of herself, which, if he died,
ne would bear straight to Jason Babb. Her words, however,
had made but the slightest surface-wounds on Bute's sturdy
nature. No accusation or reproach directed towards her
passed his lips ; Miss Dilworth's name, it is true, was some-
times mentioned, but more in anger than in love ; but his mind
ran principally on farming matters, mixed with much incohe-
rent talk, to which Patrick only appeared to have the clue.
The latter, at least, was generally able to exercise a guidance
ovei his hallucinations, and to lead them from the more violent
to the gentler phases.
Half the week was gone, and no change could be detected
ir the invalid's rendition. The powerful assault of disease
had met as powerful a resisting nature, and the struggle con-
tinued, with no marked signs of weariness on either side.
Much sympathy was felt by the neighbors, when the news
became known, and there were kind offers of assistance. The
physician, however, judged that the attendance was alroadj
A STOET OF AMERICAN LIFE. 289
sufficient, and as the fever was contagious in luany cases, he
recommended that there should be as few mjrses as possible.
The sympathy then took the form of recipes (every one of
which was infallible), dried herbs, jellies, oranges, and the like.
Mr. Jones, the miller, even sent a pair of trout, which he had
caught in Roaring Brook. The housekeeper received all these
articles with stern thanks, and then locked them up in her
cupboard, saying to herself, '"Ta'n't time for sich messes yet:
/can git all he wants, jist now."
Slowly the week drew to a close, and Mrs. Babb grew more
anxious and excited. The unusual strain upon her old frame
oegan to tell ; she felt her strength going, and yet the ago-
nizing suspense in regard to Bute's fate must be quieted be-
fore she could allow it to give way altogether. Her back kept
its straightness from long habit, but her knees tottered undei
her every time she mounted the stairs, and the muscles around
her mouth began to twitch and relax, in spite of herself. She
no longer questioned the physician, but silently watched his
face as he caine from Bute's room, and waited for him to
speak.
On the seventh day, what little information he voluntarily
gave afforded no relief to her mind, and for the first time the
iron will which had upheld her thus far began to waver. A
weariness which, it seemed to her, no amount of sleep could
ever heal, assailed her during the night. Slowly she struggled
on until morning, and through the eighth day until late in the
afternoon, when the physician came. This time, as he left the
sick-room, she detected a slight change in his expression.
Walking slowly towards him, striving to conceal her weakness
ind emotion, she said, brokenly :
"Can you tell me now?"
"I don't like to promise." he answered, "but there is a
ohance now that the fever will exhaust itself, before quite all
the power of rallying afterwards has been spent. He is not
out of danger, but the prospects of his recovery are better
than they \vere, t\vo to one. If lie gets well, your nursing,
290 HANNAH THUKSION :
Mrs. Babb, will have saved him. I wish all my patients could
have you."
The housekeeper dropped into the nearest chair, and av
vent to her feelings in a single hoarse, dry sob. When the
doctor had gone, Melinda put the teapot on the table, arranged
the cups and saucers, and said : " Come, now, Miss Forty,
you take a cup. I sure you needs um ; you jiss' kiilin* you'self,
honey."
Mrs. Babb attempted to comply : she lifted the saucer to
her lips, and then set it down again. She felt, suddenly, very
taint and sick, and the next moment an icy chill seized her,
and shook her from head to foot : her lips were blue, and her
seven remaining teeth rattled violently together. Melinda,
alarmed, flew to her assistance ; but she pushed her back with
her long, thin arm, saying, " I knowed it must come so. One
of us had got to go. He'll git well, now."
" Oh, Missus !" cried Melinda, and threw her apron over her
head.
" Where's the use, Melindy ?" said the housekeeper, sternly.
u I guess she'll be glad of it : she'd kind o' got used to havin'
me with her."
Even yet, she did not wholly succumb to the attack. De-
liberately forcing herself to drink two cups of hot tea, in order
to break the violence of the chill, she slowly crept up stairs to
Bute's room, where Patrick was in attendance. Him she de-
spatched at once to Ptolemy, with a message to the Rev. Mr.
Waldo, whom she requested to come at as early an hour as
possible. She sent no word to the physician, but the old Me-
linda had shrewdness enough to discover this omission and
supply it.
Wrapped in a blanket, Mrs. Babb took her seat in the old-
feshioned rocking-chair at Bute's bedside, and looked long
and earnestly on his worn face, in the last light of day. What
had become of the warm, red blood which had once painted
his round cheeks, showing itself defiantly through th tan
of all the suns of summer ? Blood and tan seemed to hav
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFB. 281
suddenly vanished together, leaving a waxen paleness and a
mnken, pinched expression, so much like death, that his rest-
less movements and mutterings comforted her, because they
denoted life. " Yes, there's life in him still !" she whispered
to herself. Presently he opened his eyes, and looked at her.
The fierceness of his delirium had been broken, but his expres
sion was still strange and troubled.
44 1 guess we'll begin the oats to-day, Pat," he said, in * weak
voice.
"Arbutus!" she cried, "look at mel Don't you know
Mother Forty no more ?"
" Mother Forty's gittin' breakfast," said he, staring at her.
" Oh, Arbutus," she groaned, desperately ; " do try to know
me this once't ! I'm mortal sick : I'm a-goin' to die. If there 1 *
any thing on y'r mind ag'in me, can't you say you forgive me?"
And the poor old creature began to cry in a noiseless way.
" I forgive' you, Miss Carrie," answered Bute, catching ai
the word " forgive." " 'Ta'n't worth mindin'. You're a little
fool, and I'm a big one, that's all."
Mrs. Babb did not try again. She leaned back in the rock-
ing-chair, folding the blanket more closely around her, to keep
off the constantly recurring chills, and husbanding her failing
strength to perform the slight occasional offices which the in-
valid required. Thus she sat until Patrick's return, when the
negress helped her to bed.
In the morning the physician found her in a pitiable
state of debility, but with a mind as clear and determined as
ever. Her physical energies were completely broken, and the
prospect of supporting them artificially until the fever should
subside, seemed very slight. She understood the grave con-
cern upon his face. " You needn't tell me, doctor," she said ;
" I know all about it. I'll take the medicines, to make yvut
mind easy ; but it's no use."
Mr. Waldo arriving about the same time, she begged the
physician to wait until she had had an interview with the
former. He had beeu summoned for no other purpose than to
292 HANNAH
draw up her will, the signing of which she wished both gentle-
men to witness. The document was soon prepared. She be-
queathed all she possessed to Arbutus Wilson, her adopted son,
after deducting the expenses of her funeral, and a tombstone
similar to that which she had erected to the memory of Jason
Babb.
Propped up in bed, she carefully went over the various
rams, obliging Mr. Waldo to repeat them after her and read
them aloud as he wrote them, in order that there might be no
mistake. " There's the four hundred dollars Jason left me,"
said she, " out at interest with David Van Horn ; then the mor-
gidge for a thousand dollars on Wilmot's store ; then the three
hundred she willed to me, two hundred lent to Backus, and
two hundred and fifty to Dan' el Stevens ; let alone the int'rest
what I've saved. You'll find there'd ought to be twenty-seven
hundred and four dollars and six shillin's, altogether. The notes
is all in my tin box, and the int'rest tied up in my weddin'
stockins in the big trunk. I got it turned into gold: the banks is
breakin' all the time. It's enough to give Arbutus a good start
in the world a heap better'n either me or Jason had. Put it
into the will that he's to be savin' and keerful, for 'twas got by
hard work. I know he won't spend it for hisself, but he's to
keep it out drawin' int'rest, and if he gits married, he mustn't
let his wife put it onto her back. Ard you may put down my
blcssin', and that I've tried to bring him up in the right way
and hope he won't depart from it."
The will was finally completed. With a strong effort, she
signed it with a cramped, but steady hand. The physician
and clergyman affixed their signatures as witnesses. " Now
I'm ready," whispered Mrs. Babb, sinking down on the pil
lows, and almost instantly fell asleep.
As the two gentlemen issued from the house, the physician
said : " We must get somebody to take care of her."
" Of course," answered Mr. Waldo. " She cannot be in-
trusted to old Melinda. Leave it to me: I will see that iher
ie a good nurse in the Jiouse before night."
A STORY OP AMERICAN LIFE. 293
CHAPTER XXIII.
WHICH CONTAINS BOTH LOVE AND DEATH.
GOOD Mr. Waldo drove back to Ptolemy seriously trou-
bled by the calamity which had come upon the household
of Lakeside. Its helpless condition, now that the housekeeper
was struck down, rendered immediate assistance necessary ;
but whence was the help to come? He could think of no
woman at the same time willing and competent to render it
except his wife and on her rested the entire care of his own
house, as they were unable to afford a servant. The benevo-
lent clergyman actually deliberated whether he should not let
her go, and ask the hospitality of one of his parishioners during
hei absence, in case no other nurse could be found.
As he turned into the short private lane leading to his
stable, a rapid little figure, in pink muslin, entered the front
yard. It was Miss Caroline Dil worth, who had just returned
from a farm-house on the road to Mulligansville, where she
had been sewing for a fortnight past. She entered the plain
iittle sitting room at the same, moment with Mr. Waldo. The
clergyman's wife greeted her with astonishing brevity, and
turned immediately to her husband.
" What was the matter ? " she asked ; " is Bute so much
worse ? "
" Bute worse ! " ejaculated Miss Dilworth, opening her eyes
in amazement.
"No," said Mr. Waldo, answering his wife, "the doctor
thinks his chance is a little better, though he is still out of his
head ; but she has the fever now, and her case seems worse
than his. I am distressed about them : there is nobody there
V HANNAH THUBSTON:
except the old negro woman, and Mrs. Babb needs a careful
nurse immediately."
" What is it ? Do tell me what it is ?" cried Miss Dilworth,
etching hold of the clergyman's arm with both hands.
He explained the case to her in a few words. To the aston
ishmerit of both, the little sempstress burst into a violent flood
of tears. For a minute or two the agitation was so great tha*
she was unable to speak.
" It's d-dreadful !" she sobbed at last. " Why why didn't
you send w-word to me V But I'll g-go now : don't put out
your horse : take take me there !"
" Carrie ! do you really mean it ?" said Mrs. Waldo.
Miss Caroline Dilworth actually stamped her foot. " Do
you think I'd make fun about it ?" she cried. " Yes, I mean
to go, if I must go a-foot. He they must have somebody ', and
there's nobody can go so well as I can."
" I think she is right, wife," said the clergyman.
Mrs. Waldo hesitated a moment. "I know you would
be kind and careful, Carrie," she said at length, " and I could
come every day, and relieve you for a while. But are yon sure
you are strong enough for the task ?"
Miss Dilworth dried her eyes with her handkerchief and
answered : " If I'm not, you'll soon find it out. I'm going
over to Friend Thurston's to get some of my things to take
along."
" I'll call for you in a quarter of an hour, with the buggy,"
said Mr. Waldo.
The little sempstress was off without saying good-by. As
she went down the plank walk towards the Widow Thurston'i
cottage, she pushed her tangled curls behind her ears, and then
held her hands clenched at her side, too much in earnest to
give her head a single toss or allow her feet a single mincing
step. All the latent firmness hi her lithe figure was suddenly
developed. It spoke in her rapid, elastic gait, in the com-
pression of the short red lips, and the earnest forward glance
"f her eyes, under their uplifted lids. During the spring and
A STORy OF AMTraiCAN LIFE. 295
summer she had been gradually coming to the conviction that
she had treated Bute Wilson sh-unefully. The., failure of the
little arts which she had formerly employed with so much suc-
cess Lad hastened this conviction. The softest drooping of her
?yes, tho gentlest drawl of her voice, ceased to move him from
his cold, grave indifference. She began to feel that these
charms only acquired their potency through the sentiments of
those upon whom they were exercised. Had she not again
ard again cast them forth as nets, only to haul them in at las*
without having entrapped the smallest fish ?
Besides, in another way, her ambition had suffered a severe
eheck. The mistress of the school at Mulligansville having
fallen sick, Miss Dilworth took her place for a fortnight. Her
6rst sense of triumph in having attained what she considered
to be her true mission, even as the proxy of another, did not
last long. For a day or two, the novelty of her appearance
kept the school quiet ; but, one by one, the rude country chil-
dren became familiar with her curls, with her soft green eyes,
and her unauthoritative voice. They grinned in answer to her
smile and met her frown with unconcealed derision ; they ate
green apples before her very lace ; pulled each other's hair or
tickled each other under the arms ; drew pictures on their
slates and upset the inkstands over their copy-books. The
bigger boys and girls threw saucy notes at each other across
the whole breadth of the school-room. They came to her with
" sums" which she found herself unable to solve ; they read
with loud, shrill voices and shocking pronunciation ; and when
the hour for dismissal came, instead of retiring quietly, they
sprang from their benches with frightful whooping and rushed
tumultuously out of the house. The " beautiful humanity" of
the occupation, which she had heard so extolled, burst like a
painted bubble, leaving no trace ; the " moral suasion," on
which she relied for maintaining discipline, failed her utterly ;
the "reciprocal iove'' between teacher and pupil, which she
fancied she would develop in the highest degree, resolved it-
self into hideous contempt on the one side and repugnance on
296 HANNAH THUKSTON:
the other. She was finally indebted to one of the biggiat and
coarsest of the boys a fellow who almost made her IreiJbU
every time he came near her for sufficient help to prevent
the school from falling into chaos before the fortnight came to
an end. This boy, who was the bully of the school, and whose
voice had a cracked hoarseness denoting the phase of develop-
ment through which he was passing, was impressed with t
vague respect for her curls and her complexion, and chivalrous
ly threw his influence, including his fists, on her side. It was
not pleasant, however, to hear the older girls giggle and whis-
per when he came : " There's the mistress's beau !"
Bute, also, increased in value in proportion as he became
inaccessible. She confessed to herself that no masculine eyes
had ever looked at her with such honest tenderness as his : and
they were handsome eyes, whatever his nose might be. She
had always liked to hear his voice, too, in the old time: now
it was no longer the same. It was changed to 7ier, and she
had not imagined that the change could make her so restless
and unhappy. Still, she did not admit to herself that she really
loved him : their intercourse had had none of that sentimental
poetic coloring that atmosphere of sighs, murmurs, thrills, and
silent raptures which she fancied should accompany Love.
He was even coarsely material enough to sneer at the idea of
" kindred spirits !" Yet he loved her, for all that ; she felt it
in his altered manner, as she had never felt it before.
The unexpected shock of the news which Mr. Waldo com-
municated to her was a sudden betrayal of herself. Had che
possessed the least power of introversion, she would have been
amazed at it. But her nature was not broad enough to em-
brace more than a single sensation. The burst of tears and
Uie impulse to offer her services came together, and all that
she felt was: "If Bute dies, I shall be wretched." She con-
tinued to repeat this to herself, on her way to the Widow
Thurston's, adding : " I'll do my best to save him and his
stepmother, and I don't care who knows it, and I don't care
what they say."
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. -.297
" Why, what's the matter, child ? " exclaimed the widow, as
Miss Dilworth walked into the sitting-room, erect, determined,
and with a real expression on her usually vapid* face.
The latter explained her purpose, not without additional
tears. " Nobody else would be likely to go," she said : " they
would be afraid of catching the fever. But I'm not afraid :
I've seen the like before : I may be of use, and" 1 ought to be
there now."
The widow looked at her with a gentle scrutiny in her eyes,
which made Miss Dilworth drop her lids for the first time and
bring forward her curls from behind her ears. The glance
changed to one of tender sympathy, and, checking a sigh which
would have brought a memory with it, the old woman said :
" I think thee's right."
Thus encouraged, the necessary preparations were soon
made, and in an hour from that time Miss Carrie Dilworth was
at Lakeside.
The negress, who knew her, received her with a mixture of
rejoicing and grief: " Bress de Lord, honey ! " she exclaimed ;
" things is goin' bad. I'se mighty glad you come. Somebody's
got to see to 'urn, all de time, an' de cookin' mus 1 be 'tended
to, ye knows."
Mrs. Babb, after a long sleep, was again awake, but in a
.state of physical prostration which prevented her from leaving
her bed. Her anxiety lest Arbutus should not receive the
proper care, aggravated her condition. She kept his medicines
on a chair by her bedside, and demanded constant reports of
him, which neither Patrick nor Melinda could give with suf-
ficient exactness to satisfy her.
Miss Dilworth, somewhat nervously, ascended the kitchen
stairs and entered the housekeeper's room. But the sight of
the hazard, bony face, the wild restlessness in the sunken
O^
eyes, and the thin gray hair streaming loosely from the queer,
old-fashioned night-cap, restored her courage through the in-
spiration of pity. She went forward with a quick, light step,
and stooped down beside the bed.
13*
298 HANNAH
" I have come to help, Mrs. Babb," she said.
" Help, eh ?" answered the housekeeper, in a weak, husky
voice ; " well I've got to take any help that comes. Hard
pushed, it seems. Thought you didn't keer about none of ua
What are you good for, anyhow ?"
" I've helped nurse before, Mrs. Babb. I'll do my best, if
you'll let me try. Which medicine do you take ?"
The housekeeper lay silent for a while, with her eyes on the
sempstress's face. She was so weak that neither her first
feeling of astonishment nor her second feeling of repugnance
possessed a tithe of their usual force ; the sense of her own
helplessness overpowered them both. " That bottle with the
red stuff," she said at last. " A tea-spoonful every two hours.
Three o'clock, next. Take keer !" she gasped, as Miss Dil-
worth moved to the chair, " you'll knock every thing down
with that hair o' yourn !"
The medicines were at last carefully arranged on a smaL
table, the tea-spoonful administered, the pillows shaken up and
smoothed, and, the invalid having declared herself comfortable,
Miss Dilworth slipped out of the room. When she returned,
ten minutes afterwards, her hair was drawn over her temples
in masses as smooth as its former condition would allow, and
fastened in a knot behind. The change was nevertheless an
advantageous one ; it gave her an air of sober womanhood
which she had never before exhibited. The old woman
noticed it at once, but said nothing. Her eyes continuallj
wandered to the door, and she was growing restless.
" Shall I go and see how he is ?" wnispered Miss Carrie
A strong expression of dislike passed over the housekeeper's
face. For a few minutes she did not speak; then, as no one
C^me, she finally groaned : "1 can't go myself.-"
Miss Carrie opened the door ot Bute's room with a beating
heart. The curtains were down, to keep out the afternoon
sun, and a dim yellow light filled the chamber. The air was
close, and impregnated with a pungent etherous smell. In an
old -arm-chair, near the bed, sat Patrick, dozing. But thai
A STOUY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 299
shorn head, that pale, thin face, and lean, hanging arm, did
they really belong to Bute? She approached on tiptoe,
holding her breath, and stood beside him. A rush of tender-
ness, such as she had never felt towards any man, came over
her. She longed to lay the wasted head on her bosom, and
bring back color into the cheeks from the warmth of her own
heart. He turned and mutterod, with half-closed ejes, as if
neither asleep nor awake, and even when &he gently took the
hand that lay on the coverlet, the listless fingers did not ac-
knowledge her touch. Once he looked full in her face, but
vacantly, as if not even seeing her.
A horrible fear came over her. " Is he worse ?" she whis-
pered to the Irishman.
"No, he's no wurrse, Miss maybe a bit better than he
wur."
" When must he have his medicine ?"
" I've jist guv' it to him. He'll be quieter now. Could ye
stay here and laive me go to the barrn for an hour, jist ?"
Miss Carrie reported to the housekeeper, and then relieved
Patrick. She noiselessly moved the arm-chair nearer the bed,
seated herself, and took Bute's feverish hand in her own.
From time to time she moistened his parched lips and cooled
his throbbing temples. His restless movements ceased and he
lay still, though in a state of torpor, apparently, rather than
sleep. It was pitiful to see him thus, stripped of his lusty
strength, his red blood faded, the strong fibres of his frame
weak and lax, and the light of human intelligence gone from
nis eye. His helplessness and unconsciousness now, brought
into strong relief the sturdy, homely qualities of his mind and
aeart : the solemn gulf between the two conditions disclosed
his real value. Miss Dil worth felt this without thinking it,
is she sat beside him, yearning, with all the power of her
limited nature, for one look of recognition, though it expressed
no kindness for her ; one rational word, though it might not
belong to the dialect of love.
No such look, no such word, came. The hour slowlj
800 IIA.NNAH THURSTON:
dragged out its length ; Patrick came back and she returned
to the housekeeper's room. The physician paid a second visit, in
the evening, expressed his satisfaction with her nursing, thui
far, and intrusted her with the entire care of administering
the medicines. He advised her, however, not to be wasteful
of her strength at the outset, as the patients would not soon
be able to dispense with careful watching. It was arranged
that the old negress should occasionally relieve her at night.
In regard to the invalids, he confessed that he had some hope
of Bute's recovery; in a day or two the crisis of the fever
would be over ; but Mrs. Babb, though her attack was much
less violent, inspired him Avith solicitude. The apathetic con-
dition of her system continued, in spite of all his efforts, and
the strong will which might have upheld her, seemed to bo
suddenly broken.
Miss Dilworth fulfilled her duties with an astonishing
patience and gentleness. . Even the old housekeeper, no longer
seeing the curls and drooping eyelids, or hearing the childish
affectation of the voice, appeared to regard her as a different
creature, and finally trusted the medicines implicitly to her
care. On the day after her arrival, Bute, whose wan face and
vacant eyes haunted her with a strange attraction, fell into
a profound sleep. All that night he lay, apparently lifeless,
but for the faint, noiseless breath that came from his parted
lips. He could not be aroused to take his medicines. When
this was reported to Mrs. Babb, she said, as sternly as her
weakness would permit : " Let him alone ! It's the turnin'
p'int ; he'll either die or git well, now."
This remark only increased Miss Dilworth's anxiety. Fifty
ames during the night she stole into his room, only to find
him motionless, senseless as before. Patrick took advantage
of > he quiet to sleep, and snored loud and hard in his arm-
chair. Once, moved by an impulse which she could not
resist, she stooped down and kissed the sick man's forehead.
The touch of her lips was light as a breath, but she rose,
trembling and blushing at herself, and slipped out of the room
A STOR\ OF AMERICAN LIFE. 301
" Quwt nothing but quiet as long as he sleeps !" said the
physician, next morning. Patrick was excluded from the
room, because, although he pulled off his boots, there were
two or three planks in the floor which creaked under his
weight. Miss Dilworth silently laid a row of bed-room rugfi
from the door to the bedside, and went and came as if on
Jown, over the enormous tufted roses. No sound entered the
room but that of the summer wind in the boughs of the
nearest elm. Hour after hour of the clouded August day
went by, and still no change hi the sleeper, oaless an
increased softness in his listless hand, as she cautiously
touched it.
Towards sunset, after a restless day, Mrs. Babb tell asleep,
and Miss Dilworth went into Bute's room and seated herself
in the chair. The prolonged slumber frightened her. "Oh,"
she said to herself, "what would I do if he was to die. I've
treated him badly, and he would never know that I'm sorry
for it never know that that I love him ! Yes, I know it
now when it's too late. If he were well, he's done loving me
as he used to but he won't get well : he'll die and leave me
wretched !"
As these words passed through her mind, while she leaned
forward, with her face close to that of the invalid, she sud-
denly noticed a change in his breathing. Its faint, regular
character was interrupted : it ceased a moment, and then hia
breast heaved with a deeper inspiration. " Oh, he's dying !"
she whispered to herself in despair. Stooping down, she
kissed his forehead passionately, while her tears dropped fast
upon it. His arm moved ; she rose, and met the glance of hig
5 pen eyes clear, tender, happy, wondering, but not with the
jlank wonder of delirium. It was Bute's self that looked at her
it was Bute's first, faithful love that first came to the surface
from the very depth of his heart, before any later memory
could thrust itself between. He had felt the kiss on his fore-
head : his eyes drew uer, she knew n ;>t how, to his lips. His
right arm lifted itself to her neck and held the kiss a momenl
802 HANNAH
fast then it slid back again, and she sank into the chair,
covering her face with her hands, and weeping.
After a while Bute's voice came to her weak and gentle,
but with its natural tone. "Carrie," said he, "what is it?
WJat's happened?"
' Oh, Bute," she answered, " you've been very sick : you've
bet n out of your head. And Mrs. Babb's sick too, and I've
come to take care of you both. I thought you were going to
die, Bute, and now you're going to get well, and I'm so glad
so happy !"
" Why are you glad, Carrie ? Why did you come ?" he
asked, with an echo of the old reproach in his voice. Tho
memory of his disappointment had already returned.
Nothing was further from Miss Dilworth's mind than a re-
sort to her former arts. She was too profoundly and solemnly
moved : she would tell the truth, as if it were her own dying
hour She took her hands from her face, lifted her head, and
looked at him. " Because I have treated you badly, Bute,"
she said : " because I trifled with you wickedly. I wanted
to make some atonement, and to hear you say you forgiv*
me."
She paused. His eyes were fixed on hers, but he did not
answer.
"Can you forgive me, Bute?" she faltered. "Try to do it,
because I love you, though I don't expect you to love me any
more."
" Carrie!" he cried. A new tint came to his face, a new
light to his eye. His hand wandered towards her on the
Coverlet.
" Carrie," he repeated, feebly grasping her hand with hi*
ringers and drawing her tow ards him, " ouce't more, now /" ID
th, kiss that followed there- was forgiveness, answering love,
and a mutual compact for the future.
"You've brought mp back ag'in to life," he murmured,
closing his eyes, whilt two bright tears crept out from uudei
the lids. She sat beside him, holding his hand, tie seemed
A STOEY OF AMEBICAN LIFE. 308
too weak to say more, and thus ten minutes silently ~assed
nway.
" Tell me how it happened," said Bute, finally. " Where's
Mother Forty ?"
" I must go to her at once !" cried Miss Dilworth, starting
up. " She's worrying herself to death on your account. And
the doctor said if you got awake you were to keep quiet, and
not talk. I must go, Bute : do lie still and try to sleep till
I come back. Ob, we oughtn't to have said any thing !"
" What we've said won't do me no harm," he murmured,
with a patient, happy sigh. " Go, then, Came : Til keep
quiet."
Miss Dilworth went into the housekeeper's room so much
more swiftly than usual that the latter was awakened by the
rustling of her dress. She started and turned her head with
a look of terror in her eyes.
" Oh, Mrs. Babb !" cried the sempstress : " Bute's awake
it last. And his mind's come back to him ! And he says he'll
get well !"
The old woman trembled visibly. Her bony hands were
clasped under the bed-clothes and her lips moved, but no
audible words came from them. Then, fixing her eyes on the
face of ihe kneeling girl, she asked : " What have you been
a-sayin' to him ?"
Miss Dilworth involuntarily drooped her lids and a deep
color came into her face. "I asked him," she answered, "to
forgive me for my bad behavior towards him."
" Nothin' else ?"
'' Yes, Mrs. Babl, I said he could do it now, because I loTt
him."
" You do, do ye ?"
" Yes, and he has forgiven me."
" Hnh !"
With this, her customary snort, when she was not prepared
to express a decided opinion, the housekeeper closed her eyes
and seeme 1 to meditate. Presently, however, she turned her
304 HANNAH THUBSTON:
head, and said, rather sternly, though without any signs of
bitterness :
" Go 'way now, gal ! I want to be alone a spell."
Mi? s Dil worth obeyed. When she returned, at the time
appointed for administering the medicine, Mrs. Babb had re-
umed her state of passive patience. She made no further
nquiries about the conversation which had taken place, nor
about any which took place afterwards. A change had come
over her whole nature. She lay for hours, with her eyes open,
without speaking, evidently without suffering, yet keenly
alive to every thing that took place. She took her medicines
mechanically, with an air of listless obedience to the orders of
the physician, and without any apparent result. Stimulants
and sedatives alike failed to produce their customary effect.
From day to day she grew weaker, and the physician finally
declared that, unless she could be roused and stirred in some
way, to arrest the increasing prostration, he could do nothing
for her. As the knowledge of the favorable change in Bute's
case had left her as before, there was little hope that any
further source of excitement remained.
As for Bute, he rallied with a rapidity which amazed the
physician, who ascribed to an unusual vitality of his own the
life which the invalid had really drawn from another. The
only difficulty now was, to retard his impatient convalescence,
and Miss Dil worth was obliged to anticipate her conjugal au-
thority and enjoin silence when he had still a thousand happy
questions left unasked and unanswered. When that authority
failed, she was forced to absent herself from the room, on the
plea of watching Mrs. Babb. His impatience, in such case,
was almost as detrimental as his loquacity, and the little
sempstress was never at ease except when he 'slept.
After passing a certain stage in the fever, the housekeeper
oegan to sink rapidly. Her mind, nevertheless, made feeble
efforts to retain its ascendency efforts which reacted on her
body and completed the ruin of its faculties. One day she a
Vanished Miss Dil worth by rising in her bed with a violent effort
A STOKY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 80fl
"I must go and see him!" she said: "help me into his
room !"
"Oh, you cannot!" cried Miss Dilworth, supporting her
with one arm around her waist. "Lie down: you are not
strong enough. He will be able to come to you in a day or
two,"
"No, no! to-day !" gasped the housekeeper. "la'n't cer-
tain o' knowin' him to-morrow, or o' bein' able to say to
him what I've got to say." Thereupon her temporary
strength gave way, and she sank down on the bed in a faint
ing state.
After she had somewhat revived, Miss Dilworth took coun-
sel with herself, and soon came to a decision. She went down
stairs and summoned Patrick, who carefully wrapped up Bute
and placed him in the arm-chair. She herself then assisted in
carrying him into the housekeeper's room, and placing him by
the bedside. A look of unspeakable fondness came over Mra.
Babb's haggard face ; the tears silently flowed from her eyes
and rolled down the wrinkles in her hollow cheeks.
" Cheer up, Mother Forty," said Bute, who was the firj'c to
speak. " I'm gittin' on famous' and '11 soon be round agfin."
"It's as it should be, Arbutus," she whispered, hoarsely,
catching her breath between the words; "the old 'un 11 go
and the young 'un '11 stay. 'T had to be one of us."
" Don't say that ; we'll take care of you Carrie And me.
Won't we, Carrie ?"
" Yes, Bute," said Carrie, with her handkerchief to her
eyes.
Mrs. Babb looked from one to another, but without any
sign of reproof. She feebly shook her head. " What muut be
must," said she; "my time's come. P'raps I sha'n't see you
no more, Arbutus. Maybe I ha'n't done my duty by you
always ; maybe I've seemed hard, once't and a while, but 1
meant it for your good, and I don't want you to have any hard
thoughts ag'in mo when I'm gone."
" Mother Forty |" cried Bute, his eyes filling and overflow
306 HANNAH TIIUKSTON:
ing, "God knows I ha'n't nothin' ag'in you! You've been
as good to me as you knowed how ; it's me that's been rough,
and forgitful o' how you took care o' me when I was a little
boy. Don't talk that a-way now, don't !"
" Do you really mean it, Arbutus ? Do you forgive me my
trespasses, as I forgive them that trespass agi'n me ? Can I go
to Jason and say Fve done my duty by you ?"
Bute could not answer : he was crying like a child. He
slid forward in the chair. Miss Dilworth put her arm around
his waist to steady him, and they sank down together on their
knees beside the bed. Bute's head fell forward on the coverlet.
The housekeeper placed both her hands upon it.
" Take my blessin', child !" she said, in a feebler voice.
" You've been a good boy, Arbutus. I'll tell her, and I'll tell
your mother. Maybe I'll have a seat betwixt her and Jason.
All I have'll be yourn. But you mustn't stay here : say good-
by to me and go."
" Will you bless me, with him ?" faltered Miss Carrie.
The left hand slowly moved to her head, and rested there.
" Be a good wife to him when the time comes, and I'll bless
you always. There a'n't many like him, and I hope you
know it."
" I do know it," she sobbed ; " there's nobody like him."
" I want you to leave the money where it is," said the
housekeeper, " and only draw the interest. You'll have an
easier time of it in your old clays than what I've had ; but 1
don't begrudge it to you. It's time you were goin' say
good-by, child!"
The sempstress, small as she was, lifted Bute until his foster-
mother could catch and hold his head to her bosom. Then,
for fhe first time in his remembrance, she kissed him, once,
twice, not with any violent outburst of feeling, but with a
tender gravity as if it were a necessary duty, the omission of
which would not be agreeable to Jason Babb. Then she
turned over on the pillow, saying " Amen !" and was silent.
Patrick was summoned and Bute was speedily replaced in his
307
own bed, where Miss Dilworth left him to resume her place
by the housekeeper's side.
But that same night, about midnight, Mrs. Babb died
She scarcely spoke again after her interview with Bute, except
to ask, two hours later, whether he seemed to be any the
worse on account of it. On being told that he was sleeping
quietly, she nodded her head, straightened her gaunt form as
well as she was able, and clasped her fingers together over her
breast. Thus she lay, as if already dead, her strong eyebrows,
her hooked nose, and her sharp chin marking themselves with
ghastly distinctness as the cheeks grew more hollow and the
closed eyes sank deeper in their sockets. Towards midnight a
change in her breathing alarmed Miss Dilworth. She hastily
called the old negress, who was sleeping on the kitchep settee.
" Honey," said the latter, in an awe-struck whisper, *s she
stood by the bedside, " she's a-goin' fast. She soon see de
glory. Don't you wish fur her to stay, 'case dat'll interfere
wid her goin'."
Her breath grew fainter, and came at longer intervals, tut
the moment when it ceased passed unnoticed by either of tb e
watchers. Melinda first recognized the presence of Death.
" You go an' lay down," she said to Miss Carrie. " You can't
do no good now. I'll stay wid her till mornin'."
The sempstress obeyed, for she was, in truth, wretchedly
weary. For the remainder of the night Melinda sat on a low
chair beside the corpse, swinging her body backwards and
forwards as she crooned, in a low voice :
" De streets is paved wid gold,
Ober on de udder shore."
308 HANNAH THURSTOW:
CHAPTER XXIV.
VABIOUS CHANGES, BUT LITTLE PBOGEES8 IN THE 8TOE7.
As soon as the news of Mrs. Babb's death became known,
the neighbors hastened to Lakeside to offer their help. The
necessary arrangements for the funeral were quietly and
speedily made, and, on the second day afterwards, the body of
the housekeeper was laid beside that of Jason Babb, in the
Presbyterian churchyard at Ptolemy, where he had been
slumbering for the last twenty-three years. The attendance
was very large, for all the farmers' wives in the valley had
known Mrs. Babb, and still held her receipts for cakes, pre-
serves, and pickles in high esteem. The Reverends Styles
and Waldo made appropriate remarks and prayers at the
grave, so that no token of respect was wanting. All the
neighbors said, as they drove homewards, " The funeral was a
credit to her." Her spirit must have smiled in stern satisfac-
tion, even from its place by Jason's side, and at the feet ol
Mrs. Dennison, as it looked down and saw that her last uu-
conscious appearance among mortals was a success.
Miss Dilworth took counsel of her friends, Hannah Thurston
and Mrs. Waldo, on the day of the funeral. She confessed 10
them, vrith returning misgivings, what had taken place be-
tween. Bute Wilson and herself, and was a little surprised at
the hearty gratification which they both expressed.
"How glad I am!" ciied Mrs. Waldo; "it is the very
thing!"
" Yes," said Hannah Thurston, in her grave, deliberate man-
ner, " I think you have made a good choice, Carrie."
A STOBT OF AMERICAN LIFE. b09
If anyjspark of Miss Caroline Dilworth's old ambition still
burned among the ashes of her dreams, it was^ extinguished at
that moment. The prophets of reform were thenceforth dead
to her. She even took a consolation in thinking that if her
wish had been fulfilled, her future position might have had ita
embarrassments. She might have been expected to sympa-
thize with ideas which she did not comprehend to make use
of new shibboleths before she had learned to pronounce them
\f. counterfeit an intelligent appreciation when most con-
scious of her own incompetency. Now, she would be at ease.
Bute would never discover any deficiency in her. She spoke
better English and used finer words than he did, and if she
made a mistake now and then, he wouldn't even notice it.
With the disappearance of her curls her whole manner had
become more simple and natural. Her little affectations broke
out now and then, it is true, but they had already ceased to be
ased as baits to secure a sentimental interest. There was even
hope that her attachment to Bute would be the means of de-
veloping her somewhat slender stock of common-sense.
" Bute says we must be married as soon as he gets well,"
she said : " he won't wait any longer. Is there any harm in
my staying here and taking care of him until he's entirely out
of danger ?"
Mrs. Waldo reflected a moment. "Certainly none until
Mr. Woodbury returns," she said. " Mr. Waldo has answered
his letter to Bute, which came this morning. If he leaves
Saratoga at once, he will be here in three or four days. The
doctor says you are an admirable nurse, aud that is reason
enough why you should not leave at present."
"The other reason ought to be enough," said Hannah
Thurston. "She owes a wife's duty towards him now, when
he needs help which she can give. I am sure Mr. Woodburt
will see it in the same light. He is noble and honorable."
" Why, Hannah !" cried Mrs. Waldo, " I thought you and
he were as far apart as the opposite poles !"
" Perhaps we are, in our views of certain subjects," was t>
a 10 HANNAH THUKSTOW:
quiet reply. " I can, nevertheless, properly estimate his char
acter as a man."
Mrs. Waldo suppressed a sigh. " If you could only esti
mate your own true character as a woman !" she thought.
Miss Dil worth's duties were now materially lightened. Tht
danger of further contagion had passed, and some one of the
neighbors came every day to assist her. Bute only required
stimulating medicines, and the usual care to prevent a relapse,
of which there seemed to be no danger. He began to recover
his healthful sleep at night, and his nurse was thus enabled to
keep up her strength by regular periods of rest. Once or
twice a day she allowed him to talk, so long as there was no
appearance of excitement or fatigue. These half hours were
the happiest Bute had ever known. To the delicious languor
and peace of convalescence, was added the active, ever-renewed
bliss of his restored love, and the promises which it whispered.
He delighted to call Miss Carrie, in anticipation, "Little
wife !" pausing, each time he did so, to look for the blush
which was sure to come, and the smile on the short red lips,
which was the sweetest that ever visited a woman's face. Of
course it was.
One day, nevertheless, as he lay looking at her, and think-
ing how much more steady and sensible she seemed since her
curls were gathered up how much more beautiful the ripples
of light brown hair upon her temples a cloud came over hia
face. "Carrie," he said, "there's one thought worries me, and
I want you to put it straight, if you can. S'pose I hadn't got
sick, s'pose I hadn't lost my senses, would you ever ha' come
to your'n ?"
She was visibly embarrassed, but presently a flitting roguish
expression passed over her face, 'and she answered : (: Would
you have given me a chance to do it, Bute?"
"Likely not," said he. "You spoke plain enough last win-
ter, and 'twasn't for me to say the first word, after that.
When a man's burnt his fingers once't, he keeps away from
the lire. But I want to know why yon come to take keer of
A, STOKY OF AMKKICAN LIFB. 311
toe and Mother Forty. Was it only because you were sorry,
and wanted to pay me for my disapp'intment in that way?
Can you lay your hand on your heart and say there was any
thing more ?"
Miss Carrie immediately laid her hand on her heart. " Yes.
Bute," she said, " there was something more. I was begin-
ning to find it out, before, but when I heard you were so bad,
it came all at once."
" Look hero, Carrie," said Bute, still very earnestly, although
the cloud was beginning to pass away, "some men have hearts
like shuttlecocks, banged back and forth from one gal to an-
other, and none the wuss of it. But I a'n't one of 'em. When-
ever I talk serious, I 'xpect to be answered serious. I believe
what you say to me. I believed it a'ready, but I wanted to be
double sure. You and me have got to live together as man
and wile. 'T won't be all skylarkin' : we've got to work, and
help one another, and take keer o' others besides, if things goes
right. What'll pass in a gal, won't pass in a married woman :
you must get shut o' your coquettin' ways. I see you ve took
the trap out o' your hair, and now you must take it out o' yom
eyes. 'T a'n't that it'll mean any thing any more if I thought
it did, I'd feel like killin' you but it won't look right."
"You mustn't mind my foolishness, Bute," she answered,
penitently, "and you mustn't think of Seth Wattles!'
u Srth be cutt-sarii'd r Bute exclaimed. "When i see you
pickin' up dead frog's, I'll believe you like to shake hanus with
Seth ! I've got agri-fabler thoughts than to have him in my
hfjid. Well I don't bear no grudge ag'in him now; but 1
m't like him."
u 1 don't like him either. Fancy such a fellow as he Uiinl
ng himself good enough for Hannah Thurston ! There's n
ra*n good enougli for her!"
"Like enough she thinks lx>r"lf ton <n><><l tor auv man,
Bute n-m:irk("l. ' But il: \v>m n. Carri*-, thai .
man wants i !' that gits Mi
Max."
312 HANNAH THUKSTON:
"Oh, I muKt go and see to Mr. Woodbury's room I" cried
Miss Dilworth, starting up. " Perhaps he'll come this very
day. Then I suppose I must go away, Bute."
"I hope no*,, Carrie. I wouldn't mind bein' a bit sicker for
a day or two, o' purpose to keep you here. What ! are yon
goin* away in that fashion, Little Wife ?"
Miss Dilworth darted back to the bedside, stooped down,
like a humming-bird presenting its bill to a rather large flow-
er, and was about to shoot off again, when Bute caught her by
the neck and substituted a broad, firm kiss, full of consistency
and flavor, for the little sip she had given him.
" That's comfortin'," said he. " I thank the Lord my mouth
a'n't as little as your'u."
Before night, Mr. Woodbury arrived, having taken a carriage
at Tiberius and driven rapidly over the hills. Mr. Waldo's letter,
announcing Bute's dangerous condition and Mrs. Babb's death,
had greatly startled and shocked him. His summer tour was
nearly at an end, and he at once determined to return to Lake-
side for the autumn and winter. He was not surprised to find
his household in charge of Miss Dilworth, for the news had
already been communicated to him. She met him at the door,
blushing and slightly embarrassed, for she scarcely felt herself
entitled to be ranked among his acquaintances, and the calm
reserve of his usual manner had always overawed her.
" I am very glad to find yon still here, Miss Dilworth," he
said, pressing her hand warmly, "how can I repay you for
your courage and kindness? Bute ?"
" He is much better, Sir. He is expecting you : will you
walk up and see him ?"
" Immediately. I suppose I ought not to carry all this dust
with me. I will go to my room first."
" It is ready, Sir," said Miss Dilworth. " Let me have your
ooat."
Before Woodbury had finished washing his face and hands,
and brushing the white dust of the highway out of his hair,
there was a light tap on the door. He opened it and beheld
A STORY OP AMERICAN LIFE. 313
his coat, neatlj dusted and folded, confronting him on the back
of a chair. Bute's room he found in the most perfect order
The weather had been warm, dry, and still, and the window
furthest from the bed was open. The invalid lay, propped ap
with two extra pillows, awaiting him. Woodbury was at first
shocked by his pale, wasted face, to which the close-cut hair
gave a strange, ascetic character. His eyes were sunken, but
still bright and cheerful, and two pale-blue sparks danced in
them as he turned his head towards the door.
" Bute, my poor fellow, how are you ? I did not dream this
would have happened," said Woodbury, taking the large,
spare hand stretched towards him.
" Oh, I'm doin' well now, Mr. Max. 'Twas queer how it
come all 't once't, without any warnin'. I knowed nothin'
about it till I was past the danger."
" And Mrs. Babb was she sick long ? Did she suffer
much ?"
" I don't think she suffered at all : she was never out of her
head. She seemed to give up at the start, I'm told, and all
the medicines she took was no use. She jist made up her mind
to die, and she always had a strong will, you know, Mr. Max."
Bute said this quietly and seriously, without the least thought
of treating the memory of his foster-mother lightly.
" She had a good nurse, at least," said Woodbury, " and you
seem to be equally fortunate."
"Well, I guess I am," answered Bute, his face on a broad
grin, and with more color in it than he had shown for many
days. "I've had the best o' nussin', Mr. Max. Not but
what Pat and Mr. Merryfield was as kind as they could be
'twasn't the same thing. And I may as well out with it
plump : there's no nuss quite ek'l to a man's own wife."
" Wife !" exclaimed Woodbury, in amazement.
" Well no not jist yit," stammered Bute ; "but she will
be as soon as I git well enough to marry. I'd been hankerin'
after her for these two years, Mr. Max., but it mightn't ha 1
come to nothin' i.'I hadn't got sick."
14
314 HANXAH
" You mean Miss Dilworth, of course ?"
Bute nodded his head.
" You astonish me, Bute. I scarcely know her at all, but I
think you have too much good sense to make a mistake. 1
v ish you joy, with all my heart ; and yet" he continued in a
graver tone, taking Bute's hand, " I shall be almost sorry for
it, if this marriage should deprive me of your services on the
farm."
" How ?" cried Bute, instantly recovering his former pale-
ness, " do you mean, Mr. Max., that you wouldn't want me
afterwards ?"
" No, no, Bute ! On the contrary, I should be glad to see
you settled and contented. But it is natural, now, that you
should wish to have a farm of your own, and as Mrs. Babb's
legacy will enable you to buy a small one, I thought "
" Bless you, Mr. Max. !" interrupted Bute, " it would be a
small one. What's a few hundred dollars ? I've no notion o'
goin' into farmiu' on a ten-acre lot."
" Mr. Waldo tells me that her property amounts to about
twenty-seven hundred dollars."
" Twenty seven hundred!" and Bute feebly tried V
whistle. " Well Mother Forty always was a cute 'un who'd
ha' thought it ? And she's left it all to me she keered a
mighty sight more for me than she let on." Here something
rose in his throat and stopped his voice for a moment. " I'll
do her biddm' by it, that I will !" he resumed. " I shall leave
it out at interest, and not touch a cent of the capital. Time
enough for my children to draw that. Oh, Mr. Max., now the
Lord may jist send as many youngsters to me and Carrie, a-
lie pleases."
A dim sensation, like the memory of a conquered soirou,
weighed upon Woodbury's heart for an instant, and passed
Away.
"I know when I'm well off,'"' Buti> went on. " I'm content
ed to stay as I am: every tl' : > tin- farm the horses, th
oxen, the pigs, the fences, the apple-trees, the timber-land
A 8TORT OP AMERICAN LIFB. 313
is to me as much mine as it is your'n. If I had a farm o 1
my own, it'd seem strange like, as if it belonged to somebody
else. I've got the hang of every field here, and" know jist what
it'll bring. I want to make a good livin' : I don't deny that ;
hut if I hold on to what I've got now, and don't run no resks,
and put out th' interest ag'in every year, it'll roll up jist about
as fast and a darned sight surer, than if I was to set up formy-
aelf. If you're willin', Mr. Max., we can fix it somehow. If
the tenant-house on the 'Nacreon road was patched up a little,
it'd do for the beginnin'."
" We can arrange it together, Bute," said Woodbury, rising.
"Now you have talked long enough, and must rest. I will
see you again before I go to bed."
As Miss Dilworth, at his request, took her seat at the table
and poured out the tea, Woodbury looked at her with a new
interest. He had scarcely noticed her on previous occasions, and
hence there was no first impression to be removed. It seemed
to him, indeed, as if he saw her for the first time now. The
ripples in her hair caught the light ; her complexion was un-
usually fair and fresh ; the soft green of her eyes became
almost brown under the long lashes, and the mouth was infan-
tine in shape and color. A trifle of affectation in her manner
did not disharmonize with such a face ; it was natural to her,
and would have been all the same, had she bein eighty years
old instead of twenty-six. With this affectation, however,
were combined two very useful qualities a most scrupulous
neatness and an active sense of order. " Upon my soul, it is
Lisette herself," said Woodbury to himself, as he furtively
wntched her airs and movements. Who would have expected
"o find so many characteristics of the Parisian grisette in one
of our staid American communities ? And how astonishing,
could he have known it, her ambitious assumption of Hannah
Thurston^ vie\vs ! It was a helmet of Pallas, which not only
covered her brow, but fell forward over her saucy retrouss6
nose, and weighed her slender body half-way to the earth.
She felt his scrutiny, and performed her tea-table duties witb
316 HANNAH THUBSTON :
two spots of bright color in her cheeks. Woodbury Imew
that she suspected what Bute's principal communication to
him had been, and, with his usual straightforward way of
meeting a delicate subject, decided to speak to her at once.
She gave a little start of confusion not entirely natural aa
be commenced, but his manner was so serious, frank, and re-
spectful, that she soon felt ashamed of herself and was drawn
to her own surprise, to answer him candidly and naturally.
"Bute has told me, Miss Dilworth," said he, "of youi
mutual understanding. I am very glad of it, for his sake.
He is an honest and faithful fellow, and deserves to be happy.
I think he is right, also, in not unnecessarily postponing the
time, though perhaps I should not think so, if his marriage
were to deprive me of his services. But he prefers to con-
tinue to take charge of Lakeside, rather than buy or lease a
farm for himself. I hope you are satisfied with his decision ?"
" Yes, Mr. Woodbury," she answered : " I should not like
to leave this neighborhood. I have no relatives in the country,
except an aunt in Tiberius. My brother went to Iowa five
years ago."
" Bute must have a home," Woodbury continued. " He
spoke of my tenant-house, but besides being old and ruinous,
it is not well situated, either for its inmates, or for the needa
of the farm. I had already thought of tearing it down, and
building a cottage on the knoll, near the end of the lane.
But that would take time, and "
" Oh, we can wait, Mr. Woodbury !"
He smiled. " I doubt whether Bute would be as ready to
wait as you, Miss Dilworth. I am afraid if I were to propoae
it, he would leave me at once. No, we must make some
other arrangement in the mean time. I have been turning the
matter over in my mind and have a proposition to make to
you."
" To me !"
" Yes. Mrs. Babb's death leaves me without a housekeeper.
My habits are very simple, the household is small, and I see
A STORr OF AMERICAN LIFE. 31?
already that you are capable of doing all that will be required.
Of course you will have whatever help you need ; I ask no-
thing more than a general superintendence *of my domestic
aifairs until your new home is ready. If you have no ob-
jection of your own to make, will you please mention it U
Bute ?"
" Bute will be so pleased !" she cried. " Only, Mr. Wood
bury, if it isn't more than I am capable of doing ? If I'm
able to give you satisfaction !"
" I shall be sure of your wish to do so, Miss Dilworth,"
said Woodbury, rising from the table ; " and I have the fur-
ther guarantee that you will have Bute to please, as well as
myself."
He went into the library and lighted a cigar. "Lucky
fellow !" he said to himself, with a sigh. " He makes no in-
tellectual requirements from his wife, and he has no trouble in
picking up a nice little creature who is no doubt perfection in
his eyes, and who will be faithful to him all his days. If she
doesn't know major from minor ; if she confuses tenses and
doubles negatives ; if she eats peas with her knife, and trims
her bonnet with colors at open war with each other ; if she
never heard of Shakespeare, and takes Petrarch to be the name
of a mineral what does he care ? She makes him a tidy
home ; she understands and soothes his simple troubles ; she
warms his lonely bed, and suckles the vigorous infants that
spring from his loins ; she gives an object to his labor, a con-
tented basis to his life, and a prospect of familiar society in
the world beyond the grave. Simple as this relation of the
exes is for him, he feels its sanctity no less than I. His es-
pousals are no less chaste ; his wedded honor is as dear, his
paternal joys as pure. My nature claims all this from woman,
but, alas ! it claims more. The cultivated intelligence comes
in to question and criticize the movements of the heart. Here,
on one side, is goodness, tenderness, fidelity ; on the other,
race, beauty, refinement, intellect both needs must be ful-
611ed. How shall I ever reach this double marriage, except
318 HANWAH THUKSTOW:
through a blind chance ? Yet here is one woman in whom it
would be nearly fulfilled, and a strange delusion into which
she has fallen warns me to think of her no more !"
The conscious thread of his thoughts broke off, and thej
loosened themselves into formless reverie. As he rose to re-
visit Bute's chamber, he paused a moment, thinking : " That
I can analyze her nature thus deliberately, is a proof that I do
not love her."
Bute was delighted with the new arrangement which Wood-
bury had proposed to Miss Dil worth. The latter would leave
in a few days, he said, and spend the subseqnent two or three
weeks before the wedding could take place, at the Widow
Thurston's.
" After it's all over, Mr. Max.," said Bute, " she shall stay
here and tend to the house jist as long as you want ; but-
you won't mind my savin' it, will you ? there's only one
right kind of a housekeeper for you, and I hope you won't be
too long a findin' her."
STORY OP AMERICAN LIFE. lift
CHAPTER XXV.
at WHICH HANNAH THUBSTON MAKES A NEW ACQUAINI AWC*
IN another week, Bute was able to dispense with the grate-
ful nursing which had more than reconciled him to the con
finement of his sick-room. He required no attendance at
night, and was able to sit, comfortably pillowed, for a great
part of the day. He consumed enormous quantities of chicken-
broth, and drank immoderately of Old Port and Albany Ale.
Miss Dil worth, therefore, made preparations to leave : she was
now obliged to sew for herself, and a proper obedience to cus
torn required that she should not remain at Lakeside during
the last fortnight of her betrothal.
On the morning of her departure, Woodbury called her
into the library. " You have done me a great service, Miss
Dihvorth," said he, "and I hope you will allow me to acknowl-
edge it by furnishing you with one article which I know will
have to be provided." With these words he opened a paper
parcel and displayed a folded silk, of the most charming tint
of silver-gray.
The little sempstress looked at it in speechless ecstasy.
"It's heavenly !" she at last cried, clasping her hands. " I'm
obliged to you a thousand times, Mr. Woodbury. It's too
much, indeed it is !"
" Bute won't think so," he suggested.
She snatched the parcel, and darted up-stairs in cfcret
bounds. " Oh, Bute !" she cried, bursting into his room, " ou y
look at this ! It's my \vedding-d c<s ! And he's just given it
to me 1"
820 HANNAH
" It's the prettiest thing I ever laid my eyes on," said Bute,
looking at the silk reverently but not daring to touch it.
"That's jist like Mr. Max. what did I always tell you about
him?"
After Miss Dilworth's departure, the housekeeping wai
conducted, somewhat indifferently, by the old negress. She
had, however, the one merit of being an admirable cook, and
Woodbury might have managed to live with her assistance,
for a fortnight, but for one awkward circumstance. He re-
ceived a letter from Mrs. Blake, saying that her husband had
completed his business in the East and they were preparing
to leave Saratoga. Would it be still convenient for him to
entertain them for a few days at Lakeside, on their return to
St. Louis? If the illness in his household, which had called
him home so suddenly, still continued, they would, of course,
forego the expected pleasure ; but if not, they would be the
more delighted to visit him, as it was probable they would
not come to the East the following summer. Would he
answer the letter at once, as they were nearly ready to leave ?
Woodbury was uncertain what to do in this emergency.
There was no longer the slightest fear of contagion, and he
particularly desired the offered visit ; but how could he enter-
tain his friends without a housekeeper? He finally decided
that it must be arranged, somehow ; wrote an affirmative an-
swer, and rode into Ptolemy to post it without delay, first
calling at the Cimmerian Parsonage to ask the advice of a
sensible female friend.
" You see," said he, after stating the dilemma to Mrs. Wal-
do, " now that my tyrant has gone, I wish her back again. A
despotism is better than no government at all."
" Ah, but a republic is better than a despotism " she replied.
" Do you take my meaning ? I'm not certain, after all, that
ihe figure is quite correct. But the thing is to find a tempo-
rary housekeeper. I know of no single disengaged woman in
Ptolemy, unless it is Miss Ruhaney Goodwin, and her mourn
ful countenance and habit of sighing, would be very discour-
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 321
aging to your guests, even if she were willing to go. Mrs. Bu
is a complete intelligence office for Ptolemy, servants. Youl
only chance is to see her."
" And if that fails ?"
" Then there is no hope. I shall be vexed, for I want to see
this Mrs. Blake. If it were not for taking care of my good
husband, I should myself be willing to act as mistress of Lake-
side for a few days."
" I knew you would be able to help me !" cried Woodbury,
joyfully. " Let me add Mr. Waldo to the number of mj
guests. I shall be delighted to have him, and the change may
be refreshing to him. Besides, you will have us all at the
Cimmerian Church, if the Blakes remain over a Sunday."
" You are mistaken, if you supposed that any thing of the
kind was in my thoughts," said Mrs. Waldo. " But the pro-
posal sounds very pleasantly. I am sure we both should enjoy
it very much, but I cannot accept, you know, before consulting
with my husband."
" Leave* Mr. Waldo to me."
The matter was very easily arranged. The clergyman, faith-
ful to the promise of his teeth, appreciated a generous diet.
His own table was oftentimes sparely supplied, and he was
conscious of a gastric craving which gave him discouraging
views of life. There was no likelihood of any. immediate birth
or death in his congregation, and it was not the season of the
year when members were usually assailed by doubts and given
to backsliding. More fortunate clergymen went to the water-
ing places, or even to Europe, to rest their exhausted lungs ;
why should he not go to Lakeside for a week ? They had no
servant, and could shut up the parsonage during their absence :
but the old horse ?
" Wife, we must get somebody to look after Dobbin," he
laid, thoughtfully.
" Bring Dobbin along, Woodbury laughed, " my old Dick
will be glad to see him."
Although neither he nor the Waldos were aware that they
4*
822 HANNAH THUKSTON.
had spoken to any one on the subject, the arrangement thai
had been made was whispered to everybody in Ptolemy be-
fore twenty-four hours were over. Nothing was knowu of
the Blakes, except that they were "fashionable," and those
who would have been delighted to be in the place of the pool
clergyman and his wife, expressed their astonishment it the
conduct of the latter.
" It's what I call very open communion," said the Rev. Mr
Pinchman, of the Campbellite Church.
Miss Ruhaney Goodwin heaved three of her most mournful
sighs, in succession, but said nothing.
" Merry-makings so soon after a death in the house," re-
marked Mrs. Hamilton Bue : " it's quite shocking to think of."
" Our friend is getting very select," said the Hou. Zeno
Harder, in his most pompous manner, thereby implying that
he should not have been overlooked.
Mr. Grindle, of course, improved the opportunity on every
possible occasion, and before the Blakes had been two days
at Lakeside, it was reported, in temperance circles, that they
had already consumed one hundred dollars' worth of wine.
Had these rumors been known to the pleasant little com-
munity of Lakeside, they would have added an additional
hilarity to the genial atmosphere which pervaded the house.
But it was quite removed from the clatter of the village gos-
sip, and by the time such news had gone its rounds, and been
conveyed to the victim by sympathizing friends, the occasion
which gave rise to it had entirely passed away. In our small
soantry communities, nothing is so much resented as an indi'
reel assumption of social independence. A deviation from tho
prevailing habits of domestic life a disregard for prevailing
prejudices, however temporary and absurd they may be a
visit from strangers who excite curiosity and are not made com-
mon social property : each of these circumstances is felt as an
act of injustice, and constitutes a legitimate excuse for assault
Since the railroad had reached Tiberius, and the steamer on
Atauga Lake began to bring summer visitors to Ptolemy
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 323
this species of despotism had somewhat relaxed, but it r.ow
and then flamed up with the old intensity, and Wood bury
was too cosmopolitan in his nature not to provoke its ex-
ermse.
Mr. and Mrs. Waldo reached Lakeside the day before the
ai rival of the Blakes, and the latter took immediate and easy
possession of her temporary authority. In addition to Me
linda, than whom no better cook, in a limited sphere of dishes,
could have been desired, Woodbury had hit upon the singular
expedient of borrowing a chamber-maid from the Ptolemy
House. Mrs. Waldo's task was thus rendered light and
agreeable no more, in fact, than she would have voluntarily
assumed in any household rather than be idle. It was more
than a capacity it was almost a necessity of her nature, tc
manage something or direct somebody. In the minor details
her sense of order may have been deficient ; but in regulating
departments and in general duties she was never at fault.
Her subordinates instantly felt the bounds she had drawn for
them, and moved instinctively therein.
The Blakes were charmed with Lakeside and the scenery
of the Atauga Valley. Between the boy George and Bute,
who was now able to sit on the shaded veranda on still, dry
days, there grew up an immediate friendship. Miss Josephine
was beginning to develop an interest in poetry and romances,
and took almost exclusive possession of the library. Mr.
Blake walked over the farm with Woodbury in the forenoons,
each developing theories of agriculture equally original and
impracticable, while the Mesdames Waldo and Blake improved
their acquaintance in house and garden. The two ladies un-
derstood each other from the start, and while there were some
points, in regard to which as between any two women that
may be selected each commiserated the other's mistaken views,
they soon discovered many reasons tor mutual sympathy and
mutual appreciation. Mrs. Blake had the greater courage,
Mrs. Waldo . the greater tact. The latter had more natural
grace and pliancy, the former more acquired refinement of
324 HANNAH THTJRSTON:
naaimer. They were alike in the correctness of their instinct*,
but in Mrs. Blake the faculty had been more exquisitely de-
veloped, through her greater social experience. It was the
same air. in the same key, hut played an octave higher. Mrs.
Waldo was more inclined to receive her enjoyment of lifr
through impulse and immediate sensation ; Mrs. Blake through
a philosophic discrimination. Both, perhaps, would have
borne misfortune with like calmness ; but the resignation of
one would have sprung from her temperament, and of the
other from her reason. The fact that the resemblances in their
matured womanhood were developed from different bases of '
character, increased the interest and respect which they
mutually felt.
On one point, at least, they were heartily in accord ; namely,
their friendship for Woodbury. Mrs. Blake was familiar,
as we have already described, with his early manhood in New
York, and furnished Mrs. Waldo many interesting particulars
in return for the description which the latter gave of his life
at Lakeside. They were also agreed that there was too much
masculine sweetness in him to be wasted on the desert air, and
that the place, beautiful as -it was, could never be an actual
aome until he had brought a mistress to it.
" He was already chafing under Mrs. Babb's rule," said Mrs
Waldo, as they walked up and down the broad garden-alley,
"and he will be less satisfied with the new housekeeper.
Bute's wife as she will be is a much more agreeable per-
son, and will no doubt try to do her best, but he will get very
tired of her face and her silly talk. It will be all the worse
because she has not a single characteristic strong enough for
him to seize upon and say : This offends me ! You know what
I mean ?"
" Perfectly ; and your remark is quite correct. Mr. Wood
miry is one of those men who demand positive character, of
some kind, in the persons with whom they associate. He likes
fast colors, and this new housekeeper, from you? description,
must be a piece that will fade the longer it is used. In thai
A STORY OP AMERICAN LIF.E. 325
case, she will become intolerable to him, though she may not
possess one serious fault."
" That characteristic of his," said Mrs. Waldo, " is the very
reason, I think, why it will be difficult for him to find a wife."
" By the by," asked Mrs. Blake, pausing in her walk, " he
epoke to me, when we met on the Saguenay, of oue woman,
here, in your neighborhood, who seems to have made a strong
impression upon his mind."
" It was certainly Hannah Thurston !"
" He did not give me her name. He seemed to admire her
sincerely, except in one fatal particular she is strong-minded."
" Yes, it is Hannah !" exclaimed Mrs. Waldo. " She i* a
noble girl, and every way worthy of such a man as he that is,
if she were not prejudiced against all men."
" You quite interest me about her. I heard Bessie Stryker
once, when she lectured in St. Louis, and must confess that,
while she did not convince me, I could see very well how
she had convinced herself. Since then, I have been rather tole-
rant towards the strong-minded class. The principal mistakes
they make arise from the fact of their not being married, or of
having moral and intellectual milksops for husbands. In either
case, no woman can understand our sex, or the opposite."
" I have said almost the same thing to Hannah Thurston,"
Mrs. Waldo remarked. " If she would only take one step,
the true knowledge would come. But she won't."
" I suspect she has not yet found her Fate," said Mrs. Blake.
" Was she ever in love, do you think ?"
" No, I am sure of it. She has refused two good offers
pf marriage to my knowledge, and one of them was from a
man who believed in the doctrine of Women's Rights. I can't
understand her, though I love her dearly, and we have been
intimate for years."
" Can you not contrive a way for me to make her acquaint
ance ?"
" Whenever you please. I have no doubt she remembers
the story Mr. Woodburv told as last winter. I am hostess,
326 HANNAH THUBSTON:
now, you know, and I can invite her to dinner to-moirow, onlj
I must ask somebody else. I have it! Mr. Woodbury must
invite Mr. and Mrs. Styles. It will not do for him to show to*
inuoh partiality to our little sect, and that will keep up the bat
WCQ of civility." *''
^ oodbury accepted the proposition with more satisfaction
nan he judged proper to express. It was the very object he
lesired to accomplish, yet which he could not himself mention
without exciting suspicions in the minds of both the ladies,
tie had not seen Hannah Thurston since his return, and felt a
strange curiosity to test his own sensations when they should
meet again. Under the circumstances, the invitation could b
given and accepted without in the least violating the social
propriety of Ptolemy.
The disturbing emotion which had followed her last inter-
view witli Woodbury had entirely passed away from Hannah
Thurston's mind. Her momentary resolution to avoid seeing
h.'tn again, presented itself to her as a confession of weakness.
A studied avoidance of his society would be interpreted as
springing from a hostility which she did not feel. On the con-
trary, his culture attracted her: his bearing towards her was
gratefully kind and respectful, and she acknowledged a certain
intellectual pleasure in his conversation, even when it assailed
her dearest convictions. Her mother's health, always fluctu-
ating with the season and the weather, had somewhat improved
in the last calm, warm days of August, and she could safely
leave her for a few hours in Miss Dil worth's charge. The lat-
ter, indeed, begged her to go, that she might bring back a
minute account of Bute's grade of convalescence. In short,
there was no plausible excuse for declining the invitation, had
he been disposed to seek one.
It was a quiet but very agreeable dinner-party. Mr. and Mrs.
Styles were both amiable and pleasantly receptive persons, and
Mrs. Waldo took care that they should not be overlooked in
the lively flow of talk. Hannah Thurston, who was seated beside
Mr. Blake and opposite his wife, soon overcame her first timid
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 327
ity, and conversed freely and naturally with her new acquaint
ances. Woodbury's reception of her had been- frank and kind,
bat he hud .said less to her than on former occasions. Never-
theless, she occasionally had a presentiment that his ryes were
ijion her that he listened to her, aside, when he was engaged
M com ersing with his other guests. It was an absurd fancy, of
s but it constantly returned.
\ tier dinner, the company passed out upon the veranda, or
M.;atM themselves under the old oaks, to enjoy the last mellow
Mid .!ne of the afternoon. Mrs. Blake and Hannah Thurston
found themselves a little apart from the others an opportunity
which the former had sought. Each was attracted towards
the other by an interest which directed their thoughts to the
fame person, and at the same time restrained their tongues
from uttering his name. Hannah Thurston had immediately
recognized in her new acquaintance the same mental poise and
self-possession, which, in Woodbury, had extorted her unwil-
ling respect, while it so often disconcerted her. She knew
that the two were natives of the same social climate, and was
curious to ascertain whether they shared the same views of
life whether, in fact, those views were part of a conventional
creed adopted by the class to which they belonged, or, in each
case, the mature conclusions of an honest and trutu-peeking
nature. With one of her own sex she felt stronger and better
armed to defend herself. Mrs. Blake was not a woman of un
usual intellect, but what she did possess was awake and active,
to its smallest fibre. What she lacked in depth, she made up
in quickness and clearness of vision. She did not attempt to fol
low abstract theories, or combat them, but would let fall, as if
by accident, one of the sharp, positive truths, with which both
instinct and experience had stored her mind, and which never
Bailed to prick and let the wind out of every bubble bltwn to-
wards her. This faculty, added to the advantage of sex, made
her the most dangerous antagonist Hannah Thurston could
liave met. But the latter, unsuspecting, courted her fate.
The convocation, commencing with the beauties of tiw
828 HANNAH THUKSTON:
landscape, branching thence to Ptolemy and its inhabitants, to
their character, their degree of literary cultivation, and the
means of enlightenment which they enjoyed, rapidly and
naturally approached the one important topic. Hannah Thurs-
ton mentioned, among other things, the meetings which were
held in the interest of Temperance, Anti-Slavery, Non-Resist-
ance, and Women's Rights ; Mrs. Blake gave her impressions
of Bessie Stryker's lecture ; Hannah Thurston grasped the
who-e gauntlet where only the tip of a finger had been pre
sented, and both women were soon in the very centre of the
debatable ground.
" What I most object to," said Mrs. Blake, " is that women
should demand a sphere of action for which they are incapaci-
tated understand me, not by want of intellect, but by sex."
"Do you overlook all the examples which History fur-
nishes ?" cried Hannah Thurston. " What is there that Wo-
man has not done ?"
" Commanded an army."
"Zenobia!"
" And was brought in chains to Rome. Founded an em-
pire ?"
" She has ruled empires !"
" After they were already made, and with the help of men.
Established a religion ? Originated a system of philosophy ?
Created an order of architecture ? Developed a science ? In-
vented a machine ?"
" I am sure I could find examples of her having distin-
guished herself in all these departments of intellect," Hannah
Thurston persisted.
"Distinguished herself! Ah! yes, I grant it. After the
raw material of knowledge has been dug up and quarried out,
and smelted, and hewn into blocks, she steps in with her fine
hand and her delicate tools, and assists man in elaborating the
nicer details. But she has never yet done the rough work
and I don't believe she ever will."
" But with the same education the same preparation the
A STOEY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 329
same advantages, from birth, which man possesses ? She IB
taught to anticipate a contracted sphere she is told that these
pursuits were not meant for her sex, and the determination to
devote herself to them comes late, when it comes at all. Those
intellectual muscles which might have had the same vigor as
man's, receive no early training. She is thus cheated out of
the very basis of her natural strength : if she has done so
much, fettered, what might she not do if her limbs were free ?''
Hannah Thurston's face glowed : her eyes kindled, and her
voice came sweet and strong with the intensity of a faith that
would not allow itself to be shaken. She was wholly lost in
her subject.
After a pause, Mrs. Blake quietly said : " Yes, if we bad
broad shoulders, and narrow hips, we could no doubt wield
sledge-hammers, and quarry stone, and reef sails in a storm."
Again the same chill as Woodbury's conversation had some-
times invoked, came over Hannah Thurston's feelings. Here
was the same dogged adherence to existing facts, she thought,
the same lack of aspiration for a better order of things ! The
assertion, which she would have felt inclined to resent in a
man, saddened her in a woman. The light faded from her
face, and she said, mournfully : " Yes, the physical superiority
of man gives him an advantage, by which our sex is overawed
and held in subjection. But the rule of force cannot last for-
ever. If woman would but assert her equality of intellect,
and claim her share of the rights belonging to human intelli-
gence, she would soon transform the world."
Mrs. Blake instantly interpreted the change in countenance
and tone ; it went far towards giving her the key to Hannah
Thurston's nature. Dropping the particular question which
bad been started, she commenced anew. " When I lived in
New York," said she, " I had many acquaintances among the
artists, and what I learned of them and their lives taught me
this lesson that there can be no sadder mistake than to mis-
calculate one's powers. There is very little of the ideal and
imaginative element in me, as you see, but I have learn '.id its
880 HANNAH THUKSTON :
nature from observation. I have never met any man who in-
spired me with so much pity as a painter whom I knew, who
might have produced admirable tavern-signs, but who per-
sisted in giving to the world large historical pictures, which
were shocking to behold. No recognition came to the man,
For there was nothing to be recognized. If he had moderated
his ambition, he might at least have gained a living, but ho
was ruined before he could be brought to perceive the truth,
and then died, I am sure, of a broken heart."
"And you mean," said Miss Thurston, slowly, "that I
that we who advocate the just claims of our sex, are making
the same mistake."
" I mean," Mrs. Blake answered, " that you should be very
careful not to over-estimate the capacity of our sex by your
own, as an individual woman. You may be capable under
certain conditions of performing any of the special intel
lectual employments of Man, but to do so you must sacrifice
your destiny as a woman you must seal up the wells from
which a woman draws her purest happiness."
" Why ?" '
" Ah, my dear," said Mrs. Blake, tend-jrly, " if your hair
were as gray as mine, and you had two such creatures about
you as Josey and George yonder, you would not ask. There
are times when a woman has no independent life of her own
when her judgment is wavering and obscured when her
impulses are beyond her control. The business of the world
must go on, in its fixed order, whether she has her share in it
or not. Congresses cannot be adjourned nor trials postponed,
nor suffering patients neglected, to await her necessities. The
prime of a man's activity is the period of her subjection. She
must then begin her political career in the decline of her
faculties, when she will never be able to compete succes-ifuH)
with man, in any occupation which he has followed from
youth."
Hannah Thurston felt that there must be truth in these
words. At least it was not for her, in her maiden ignorance
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 331
10 contradict them. But she was sure, nevertheless, that Mrs.
Blake's statement was not sufficient to overthrow her theory
of woman's equality. She reflected a moment before sh6
spoke again, and her tone was less earnest and confident '^han
usual.
*' The statesmen and jurists, the clergymen, physicians, and
men of science," she said, " comprise but a small number of
the men. Could not our sex spare an equal number ? Would
not some of us sacrifice a part of our lives, if it were
necessary ?"
"And lose the peace and repose of domestic life, which
consoles and supports the public life of man !" exclaimed Mrs.
Blake. " It is not in his nature to make this sacrifice still
less is it in ours. You do not thimc what you are saying.
There is no true woman but feels at her bosom the yearning
for a baby's lips. The milk that is never sucked dries into a
crust around her heart. There is no true woman but longs,
in her secret soul, for a man's breast to lay her head on, a
man's eyes to give her the one look which he gives to no-
body else in the world !"
Hannah Thurston's eyes fell before those of Mrs. Blake.
She painfully felt the warm flush that crept over neck, and
cheek, and brow, betraying her secret, but betraying it, for-
tunately, to a noble and earnest-hearted woman. A silence
ensued, which neither knew how to break.
" What are you plotting so seriously ?" broke in Wood-
bury's voice, close behind them. " I must interrupt this tete-
a-tete, Mrs. Blake. See what you are losing ?"
They both rose and turned, in obedience to the movement
of his hand. The sun had sunk so low that the shade of the
western hill filled all the bed of the valley, and began to creep
np the eaotern side. A light blue film was gathering over the
marsh at the head of the lake, where it divided into two lines,
pointing up the creeks. But the patches of woodland on the
East Atauga hill, the steep fields of tawny oat-stubble, and the
fronts of white farm-houses and barns in the distance, were
882 HATTNAH THTlRSTOW:
drowned in a bath of airy gold, slowly deepening into flame
color as its tide-mark rose higher on the hills. Over Ptolemj
a mountain of fire divided the forking valleys, which receded
on either hand, southward, into dim depths of amethyst.
Higher and higher crept the splendor, until it blazed like a
fringe on the topmost forests and fields : then it suddenly wett
out and was transferred to a rack of broken cloud, overhead.
Mrs. Styles presently made her appearance, bonneted for
the return to Ptolemy. Hannah Thurston was to accompany
her. But as they drove homewards through the cool evening
air, through the ripe odors of late-flowering grasses, and the
golden-rods on the road-banks and the eupatoriums in the
meadows, it was the passionate yearning of the woman, not
the ambition of the man, which had entire possession of her
heart.
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 323
US WHICH A WEDDING TAKES PLACE.
" Do you know, Mr. Woodbury," said Mrs. Blake, the same
evening, as they were all gathered together in the library,
u that I have taken an immense liking to your strong-minded
woman?"
" Indeed !" he remarked, with assumed indifference.
" Yes. I had a serious talk with her. I employed a moral
probe, and what do you think I found ?"
" What ?'' he repeated, turning towards her with an expres-
sion of keen interest. ,
"No, it would not be fair," tantalizingly answered Mrs. Blake,
in her most deliberate tones. "I shall not betray any discoveries
I have accidentally made. She is too earnest and genuine a
nature to be disposed of with a pleasantry. I will only say
this as far as she is wrong which, of course, is admitting
that she is partly right, I, woman as I am, would undertake
to convince her of it. A man, therefore, ought to be able to
restore her to the true faith more easily. Yet you have been
living at Lakeside nearly a year and have not succeeded."
" I have never tried, my friend," said Woodbury.
"Really?"
"Of course not. Why should I? She is relentless in her
prejudices, even in those which spring from her limited knowl-
edge of life. The only cure for such is in a wider experience.
She cannot understand that a humane and liberal tolerance of
all varieties of habit and opinion is compatible with sincerity
of character. She would make every stream turn some kind
of a mill, while I am willing to see one now and then dash
884 HANNAH THUBSTOW:
itself to pieces over the rocks, for the sake of the spray, and
the rainbows. I confess, though, that I do not think this
moral rigidity is entirely natural to her ; but the very fact that
she has slowly reasoned herself into it, and so intrenched and
defended herself against attack from all quarters, makes it so
much the more difficult for her to strike her flag. If you
were to approach her position disarmed and propose a truce,
she would look upon it as the stratagem of an enemy."
" No, no !" cried Mrs. Blake, shaking her head, with a mis-
chievous sparkle in her eyes; "that is not the way at all!
Don't you know that a strong woman can only be overcome
by superior strength? No white flags no proposals of
truce but go, armed to the teeth, and fire a train to the
mine which shall blow her fortress to atoms in a moment!"
"Bravo! What a commander is lost to the world in you!
But suppose I don't see any train to the mine?"
"Pshaw!" exclaimed Mrs. Blake, turning away in mock
contempt. " You know very well that there is but one kind
of moral gunpowder to be used in such cases. I am going to
drive into Ptolemy this afternoon with Mrs. Waldo, and I
shall make a call at the Thurston cottage. Will you go with
us?"
" Thank you, not to-day. Mr. Blake and I have arranged
to take a boat on the Lake and fish for pickerel. It is better
sport than firing trains of moral gunpowder."
The two ladies drove into Ptolemy as they had proposed.
Mrs. Blake made herself quite at nome at the Cimmerian
Parsonage, where she recognized the Christus Consolator as
an old friend out of her own bedroom, and went into raptures
over Hannah Thurston's bouquet of grasses. She mentally
determined to procure from the donor a similar ornament for
her boudoir in St. Louis, and managed the matter, indeed,
with such skill that Miss Thurston innocently supposed the
offer to make and forward the bouquet came spontaneously
from herself.
To the "o^J'vw Thurston's cottage Mrs. Blake came like a
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFJI. 335
itrong, refreshing breeze. In other households, her sharp,
clear, detective nature might have uncomfortably blown
away the drapery from many concealed infirmities, but here it
encountered only naked truthfulness, and was welcome. She
bowed down at once before the expression of past trials in
the old woman's face, and her manner assumed a tenderness all
the sweeter and more fascinating that it rarely came to the
urface. She took Miss Dilworth's measure at a single glance,
and the result, as she afterwards expressed it to Mrs. Waldo,
was much more favorable than that lady had anticipated.
" He could not have a better housekeeper than she, just at
present."
" Why, you astonish me !" Mrs. Waldo exclaimed ; " why
do you think so ?"
" I have no particular reason for thinking so," Mrs. Blake
answered ; " it's a presentiment."
Mrs. Waldo turned away her eyes from Dobbin's ears
(which she always watched with some anxiety, although the
poor old beast had long since forgotten how to shy them back),
and inspected her companion's face. It was entirely grav-j
and serious. " Oh," she said at last, in a puzzled tone, "that's
all?"
"Yes, and therefore you won't think it worth much.
But my presentiments are generally correct : wait and see,"
The Blakes remained over a Sunday, and went, as it was
generally surmised they would, to the Cimmerian Church.
The attendance -was unusually large on that day, embracing,
to the surprise of Mrs. Waldo, the Hamilton Bues and Miss
lluhaney Goodwin. On '!.< entrance of the strangers into
the church, a subdued rustling sound ran along the benches
(pews \vere not allowed by the Cimmerians), and most of the
heads turned stealthily towards the door. The imme-
diate silence that followed ha.d something of disappointment
m it. There was nothing remarkable in the tall, keen-eyed
lady in plain black silk, or the stout, shrewd-faced, gray-
whiskered man who followed her. Miss Josephine's flat straw
386 HANNAH THUBSTON:
hat and blue silk mantilla attracted much more attention
among the younger members of the congregation. After the
hymn had been given out, however, and the first bars of the
triumphant choral of "Wilmot" (according to the music-
books, but Carl Maria, von Weber in the world of Art) were
heard, a new voice gradually took its place in the midst of
the accustomed and imperfectly according sounds, and very
soon assumed the right of a ru.er, forcing the others to keep
step with it in the majestic movement of the choral. Not
remarkably sweet, but of astonishing strength and metal-
lic sonority, it pealed like a trumpet at the head of the ill-
disciplined four battalions of singers, and elevated them to a
new confidence in themselves.
The voice was Mrs. Blake's. She professed to be no singer,
for she knew her own deficiencies so well, that she never at-
tempted to conceal them; but her voice had the one rare
element, in a woman, of power, and was therefore admirably
effective in a certain range of subjects. In society she rarely
sang any except Scotch songs, and of these especially such as
dated from the rebellion of 1745 those gloriously defiant
lays, breathing of the Highlands and the heather and bonnie
Prince Charlie, which cast an immortal poetic gleam over the
impotent attempt to restore a superannuated dynasty. Had
she lived in those days Mrs. Blake might have sung the slogan
to the gathering clans : as it was, these songs were the only
expression of the fine heroic capacity which was latent in her
nature. She enjoyed the singing fully as much as her auditors
the hearing, and, if the truth could be distinctly known, it is
quite probable that she had prompted Mr. Waldo in his se
lection of the hymn. Her participation in it threw the whole
Cimmerian congregation on her side, and the Hamilton Bues
privately expressed their belief that the clergyman had taken
an undue advantage of his opportunities as a guest at Lake-
side, to instil his heretical ideas of baptism into the minds of
Mr. and Mrs. Blake. It transpired afterwards, however, that
the latter were Episcopalian, both by faith and inheritance-
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFB. . 88?
The day at last arrived for the breaking up of the new
household, to the great regret of all its members. Miss Jose-
phine tore herself with difficulty from the library, only par-
tially consoled by the present of "Undine" and " Sintraim."
George wanted to stay with Bute and learn to trap musk-rat*
and snare rabbits. Mr. Waldo half sheathed his teeth witl
Ins insufficient lips and went back to his plain fare with a sigh
of resignation. The ladies kissed each other, and Woodbury
would assuredly have kissed them both if he had known how
charitably they would have received the transgression. Bute
was embarrassed beyond all his previous experience by the
present of half a dozen silver tea-spoons which Mrs. Blake
had bought in Ptolemy and presented to him through her boy
George.
" You are going to begin housekeeping, I hear," said she,
" and you must let George help you with the outfit."
Bute colored like a young girl. " They're wuth more'n the
silver, comin' to us that-a-way," he said at last. " I'll tell
Carrie, and we sha'n't never use 'em, without thinkin' o' you
ind George."
The farewells were said, and Lakeside relapsed into its ac-
customed quiet. The borrowed chambermaid was returned to
tbe Ptolemy House, and the old Melinda alone remained in
tlie kitchen, to prepare her incomparable corn-cake and broiled
chicken. Bute was now able, with proper precautions, to
walk about the farm and direct the necessary labor, without
taking part in it. Woodbury resumed his former habit of
horseback exercise, and visited some of his acquaintances in
Ptolemy and the neighborhood, but the departure of his
pleasant guests left a very perceptible void in his life. He
had sufficient resources within himself to endure solitrde,
but he was made, like every healthily-constituted man, for
society.
Thus a few days passed away, and Bute's convalescence
bep'an to take the hue of absolute health. He now visited
o
D tclemy every day or two, to watch the progress made in a
15
838 m HANNAH THURSTON:
certain sih er-gray dress, and to enjoy the exquisite novelty of
consulting Miss Dil worth about their future household ar-
rangements. The latter sometimes, from long habit, veassumed
her former air of coquetry, but it was no longer tantalizing,
and an earnest word or look sufficed to check her. A charm
ing humility took the place of her affected superiority, and
became her vastly better, as she had sense enough to discern.
Her ringlets had disappeared forever, and her eyelids grad-
ual 1} recovered strength for an open and steady glance. In
fact, her eyes were prettier than she had supposed. Their
pale beryl tint deepened into brown at the edges, and when
the pupil expanded in a subdued light, they might almost have
been called hazel. In Spain they would have been sung as
, " ojos verdes" by the poets. On the whole, Bute had chosen
more sensibly than we supposed, when we first made Miss
Dilworth's acquaintance.
The arrangements for the wedding were necessarily few and
simple. Woodbury first proposed that it should be solemnized
at Lakeside, but Mrs. Waldo urged, that, since her husband
was to officiate on the occasion, it would be better for many
reasons one of which was Mrs. Babb's recent death that it
should take place at the parsonage. Miss Dil worth was se-
cretly bent on having a bridesmaid, who should, of course, be
Hannah Thurston, but was obliged to relinquish her project,
through the unexpected resistance which it encountered on
the part of Bute. "None of the fellows that I could ask to
stand up with me would do for her" said he.
"Why not Mr. Woodbury?" suggested Miss Carrie.
" He ! Well he'd do it in a minute if I was to ask him, bu
I won't. Betweer you and me. Carrie, they can't bear earl
other ; they're like cats S-ACI dogs."
" Bute ! a'n't you ashamed ?"
" What ? O' tellin' the truth ? No, nor a'n't likely to be.
See here, Carrie, why can't we let it alone ? Mr. Waldo'll tie
us jist as tight, all the same, and when it's over you won't
know the difference."
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 339
ft But Bute," Miss Carrie persisted, " I think she expects
it of me."
" She ha'n't set her heart on it, I'll be bound. I'll ask her.
Miss Hannah !"
The two were in the open air, at the corner of the cottagt
nearest the garden. The window of the little sitting-rooua
was open, and Bute's call brought Miss Thurston to it.
'' Oh, Bute, don't !" pleaded Miss Dilworth, ready to cry,
out he had already gone too far to stop. " Miss Hannah,'
said he, " we're talkin' about the weddin'. I'm thinkin' it'll
be jist as well without waiters. Carrie'd like to have you for
bridesmaid, and I'm sure I'd be glad of it, only, you know,
you'd have to stand up with somebody on my side, and there's
nobody I could ask but Mr. Max, and and I'm afraid that
wouldn't be agreeable, like, for either o' you."
" Bute !" cried Carrie, in real distress.
Bute, however, was too sure of the truth of what he had
said to suspect that he could possibly give pain by uttering it.
The first rude shock of his words over, Hannah Thurston felt
greatly relieved. "You were right to tell me, Arbutus," said
she; "for, although I should be quite willing, at another time,
to do as Carrie wishes, no matter whom you might choose as
your, nearest friend, I think it best, at present, that there
should be as little ceremony as possible. I will talk with you
about it afterwards, Carrie." And she moved away from the
window.
At length the important day arrived. Bute woke when the
cocks crowed three o'clock, and found it impossible to get to
sleep a2;ain. His new clothes (not made by Seth Wattles)
jyere in the top drawer of the old bureau, and Melinda had
.akl some sprigs of lavender among them. He tried to
imagine how he would look in them, how he would feel during
the ceremony and afterwards, how curious it must be to have
a wife of your own, and everybody know it. He pictured to
himself his friends on the neighboring farms, saying : " How's
your wife, Bute ?" when they met, and then he thought of
340 HANNAH THURSTON :
Mother Forty, aud what a pity that she had not lived long
enough to know Carrie Wilson who, of course, would be a
very different creature from Carrie Dilworth ; but he always
cunie back to the new clothes in the top bureau-drawer, and
the duty of the day that was beginning to dawn. Then, he
heard Pat.'s voice among the cattle at the barn ; then, a stir-
ring in the kitchen under him, and presently the noise of the
coffee-mill and still it was not light enough to shave ! More
slowly than ever before the sun rose ; his toilet, which usually
lasted five minutes, took half an hour ; he combed his hair in
three different ways, none of which was successful ; and finally
went down to breakfast, feeling more awkward and uncom-
fortable than ever before in his life.
Woodbury shook hands with him and complimented him on
his appearance, after which he felt more composed. The
preparations for the ride to Ptolemy, nevertheless, impressed
him with a certain solemnity, as if he were a culprit awaiting
execution or a corpse awaiting burial. A feeling of helpless-
aess came over him : the occasion seemed to have been
brought about, not so much by his own will as by an omnipo-
tent fate which had taken him at his word. Presently Pat.
came up grinning, dressed in his Sunday suit, and announced:
" The hosses is ready, Misther Bute, and it'll be time we're
off." After the ceremony Pat. was to drive the happy pair to
Tiberius, where they proposed spending a honeymoon of two
days with the bride's old aunt. He wore a bright blue coat
with brass buttons, and Meliuda had insisted on pinning a
piece of white ribbon on the left lappel, " Kase," as she re-
marked, " down Souf ole Missus always had 'um so."
Woodbury mounted his horse and rode off, in advance,
through the soft September morning. At the parsonage he
found every thing in readiness. Mrs. Waldo, sparkling with
satisfaction, rustled about in a dark-green silk (turned, and
with the spots carefully erased by carnphene), vibrating inces
santly between the little parlor where the ceremony was to
\uke place, and the bedroom up-stairs, where the bride
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 841
being arrayed under the direction of Hannah Tlmrston.
Nothing, as she candidly confessed, enlisted her sympathies so
completely as a wedding, and it was the great inconvenience
of a small congregation that her husband had so few occasion/?
to officiate.
<4 Promise me, Mr. Woodbury," he said, as she finally
paused in her movements, from the impossibility of finding
any thing else to do, " that you will be married by nobody but
Mr, Waldo."
" I can safely promise that," he answered : " but pray don't
ask me to fix the time when it shall take place."
" If it depended on me, I would say to-morrow. Ah, there
is Bute ! How nicely he looks !" With these words she went
to the door and admitted him.
Bute's illness had bleached the tan and subdued the defiant
ruddiness of his skin. In black broadcloth and the white silk
gloves (white kids, of the proper number, were not to be
found in Ptolemy) into which he had been unwillingly persuaded
to force his large hands, an air of semi-refinement overspread
the strong masculine expression of his face and body. His
hair, thinned by fever and closely cut, revealed the shape
of his well-balanced head, and the tender blue gleam in his
honest eyes made them positively beautiful. Mrs. Waldo
expressed her approval of his appearance, without the least
reserve.
Soon afterwards, a rustling was heard on the stairs ; the
door opened, and Miss Carrie Dil worth entered the parlor with
blushing cheeks and downcast eyes, followed by Hannah
fhurstOD, in the white muslin dress and pearl-colored ribbona
which Woodbury so well remembered. The bride was really
charming in her gray, silvery silk, and a light-green wreath
crowning her rippled hair. Orange-blossoms were not to be
had in Ptolemy, and there were no white garden-flowers in
bloom except larkspurs, which of course were not to bi
thought of. Hannah Thurston, therefore, persuaded her to
content herself with a wreath of the myrtle- leaved box, as th
342 UANNAII THURSTON:
nearest approach to the conventional bridal diadem, and the
effect was simple and becoming.
Each of the parties was agreeably surprised at the other's
appearance. Bute, not a little embarrassed as to how he
should act, took Miss Dilworth's hand, and held it in his own,
deliberating whether or not it was expected that he should
kiss her then and there. Miss Dilworth, finding that he did
not let it go, boldly answered the pressure and clung to him
with a natural and touching air of dependence and reliance.
Nothing could have been more charming than the appearance
of the two, as they stood together in the centre of the little
room, he all man, she all woman, in the most sacred moment
of life. They expressed the sweetest relation of the sexes, he
yielding in his tenderness, she confiding in her trust. No
declaration of mutual rights, no suspicious measurement of
the words of the compact, no comparison of powers granted
with powers received, but a blind, unthinking, blissful, recipro-
cal self-bestowal. This expression in their attitude and their
faces did not escape Hannah Thurston's eye. It forced upon
her mind doubts which she would willingly have avoided, but
which she was only strong enough to postpone.
Pat. nad already slipped into the room, and stood awkwardly
in a corner, holding his hat in both hands. The only other
stranger present was Miss Sophia Stevenson, who had kindly
assisted :!.?. bride in the preparation of her wardrobe, and who
differed from her sister spinster, Miss Kuhaney Goodwin, in
the fact thar she was always more ready to smile than sigh.
All being assembled, Mr. Waldo came forward and performed
the simple but impressive ceremony, following it with an
earnest prayer. Miss Carrie lifted up her head and pronounced
the " I will' 5 with courage, but during the prayer she bent it
again so that it partly rested against Bute's shoulder. When
the final "Amen!" was said, Bute very gently and solemnly
kissed his wife, and both were then heartily congratulated by
the clergyman, who succeeded in closing his lips sufficiently
to achieve the salute which an old friend might take without
A SI GET OF AMERICAN LIFE. 343
blame. Then there were hearty greetings all round : the cer-
tificate of marriage was signed and given to the wife for safe-
keeping, as if its existence were more important to her than
to the husband; and finally Mrs. Waldo prepared what the
Hon. Zeno Harder would have called a " coe-lation." Wood-
')iiry had been thoughtful enough to send to the parsonage a
oottle or two of the old Dennison Madeira, rightly judging
that if Mrs. Babb had been alive, she would have desired it
for the reason that u she" would have done the same thing.
On tin's occasion all partook of the pernicious beverage except
Ilaimah Tlmrston, and even she was surprised to find but a
very mild condemnation in her feelings. The newly-wedded
couple beamed with a mixture of relief and contentment;
Carrie was delighted at hearing herself addressed as "Mrs.
Wilson," and even Bute found the words "your wife,'' after
the first ten minutes, not the least strange or embarrassing.
Presently, however, the wife slipped away to reappear in a
pink gingham and a plaid shawl. The horses were ready at the
loor, and Pat. was grinning, whip in hand, as bestowed away
a small c irpet-bag, containing mingled male and female articles,
under the seat. A few curious spectators waited on the plank
si<l<-walk, opposite, but Bute, having gone through the grand
ordeal, now felt courage to face the world. As they took
their seats, and Pat. sjave a preliminary flourish of his whip,
Mrs Waldo produced an ancient slipper of her own, ready to
hurl it at the riii'ht moment. The horses started ; the slippet
fle\\ whizzed between their heads and dropped into the bot-
tom of the carriage.
'" Don't look back !" she cried ; but there was no danger ol
bj.l. The road must have been very rough, for Bute wa
.bhsrwd to put his arm around his wife's waist, and the dust
mt'St have been very dense, for she had raised her handker
chief to hei eves.
" VVill you take care of me to-day?" said Woodbury to th
Wa;dos. u 1 shall not ir< bark to Lakeside until evening.' 1
HANNAH THUB8TOTT'
CHAPTER XXVtt
DESCRIBING CERTAIN TROUBLES OF MB. WOODBUBT.
WHEN they returned to Mrs. Waldo's parl. :, the coiversa-
lion naturally ran upon the ceremony which ht,d just been sol-
emnized and the two chief actors in it. There was but one
judgment in regard to Bute, and his wife, also, had gained
steadily in the good opinion of all ever since her betrothal
beside the sick-bed.
" I had scarcely noticed her at all, before it happened," said
Woodbury, " for she impressed me as a shallow, ridiculous,
little creature one of those unimportant persons who seem
to have no other use than to fill up the cracks of society. But
one little spark of affection gives light and color to the most
insipid character. Who could have suspected the courage and
earnestness of purpose which took her to Lakeside, when the
fever had possession of the house ? Since then I have heartily
respected her. I have almost come to the conclusion that no
amount of triumphant intellect is worth so much reverence as
we spontaneously pay to any simple and genuine emotion,
common to all human beings."
" I am glad to hear you say so !" exclaimed Mrs. Waldo,
" Because then you will never fail in a proper respect to oar
sex. Hannah, do you remember, when you lent me Long'
fellow's Poems, how much I liked that line about ' affection?'
I don't often quote, Mr. Woodbury, because I'm never sure oi
getting it exactly right ; but it's this :
" ' What I esteem in woman
Is her affection, not her intellect,'
u And I believe all men of sense do."
A STORY OP AMERICAN LIFE. 345
" I cannot indorse the sentiment, precisely in those words,"
Woodbury answered. " I esteem both affection and intellect
in woman, but the first quality must be predominant. Its ab-
sence in man may now and then be tolerated, but to woman it
is ind : spen sable."
" Might not woman make the same requirement of man ?*
fiannah Thurston suddenly asked.
" Certainly," he answered, " and with full justice. That is
one point wherein no one can dispute the equal rights of the
sexes. But the capacity to love is a natural quality, and there
is no true affection where the parties are continually measuring
their feelings to see which loves the most. Bute and his wife
will be perfectly happy so long as they are satisfied with the
simple knowledge of giving and receiving."
" That's exactly my idea !" cried Mrs. Waldo, in great
delight. " Husband, do you recollect the promises we made
to each other on our wedding-day? There's never a wedding
happens but I live it all over again. We wore Navarino bon-
nets then, and sleeves puffed out with bags of down, and you
would lay your head on one of them, as we drove along, just
like Bute and Carrie to-day, on our way to Father Waldo's
I said then that I'd never doubt you, never take back an atom
of my trust in you and I've kept my word from that day tc
this, and I'll keep it in this world and the next !"
Here Mrs. Waldo actually burst into tears, but smiled
through them, like the sudden rush of a stream from which
spray and rainbow are born at the same instant. " I am a
silly old creature," she said : " don't mind me. Half of mj
heart has been in Game's breast all morning, and I knew 1
should make a fool of myself before the day was out."
" You're a good wife," said Mr. Waldo, patting her on t j<
head as if she had been a little girl.
Hannah Thurston rose, with a wild, desperate feeling in he
heart. A pitiless hand seemed to clutch and crush it in he)
bosom. So, she thought, some half-drowned sailor, floating
on the plank of a wreck, must feel when the sail that promised
16*
346 HANNAH THURSTON:
him deliverance, tacks with the wind and slides out of nil
horizon. The waves of life, which had hitherto only stirred
for her with the grand tidal pulse which moves in their depths,
now heaved threateningly and dashed their bitter salt in her
(ace at every turn. Whence came these ominous disturb-
ances? What was there in the happy marriage of twc
gnorant and contented so'ils, to impress her with such vague
intolerable foreboding ? With the consciousness of her in-
ability to suppress it came a feeling of angry shame at the
deceitfulness of her own strength. But perhaps and this
was a gleam of hope what she experienced was the dis-
appointed protest of an instinct common to every human be-
ing, and which must therefore be felt and conquered by others
as well.
She stole a glance at Woodbury. His face was abstracted
but it expressed no signs of a struggle akin to her own. The
large brown eyes were veiled with the softness of a tender,
subdued longing ; the full, regular lips, usually closed with all
the firmness and decision of his character in their line of
junction, were slightly parted, and the corners drooped with
an expression unutterably sad. Even over cheeks and brow,
a soft, warm breath seemed to have blown. He appeared to
hsr, suddenly, under a new aspect. She saw the misty shadow
which the passion of a man's heart casts before it, and turned
away her eyes in dread of a deeper revelation.
As she took leave of the Waldos, he also rose and gave her
his hand. The tender cloud of sadness had not entirely passed
from his face, and she avoided meeting his gaze. Whether it
was the memory of a lost, or the yearning for an absent love,
which had thus betrayed itself, she felt that it gave him the
temporary power to discern something of the -emotion which
had mastered her. Had he done so, she never could have
met him again. To this man, of all men, she would continue
to assert her equality. Whatever weaknesses others might
discover, he at least should only know her in her strength.
The rest of the day passed rather tamely to Woodbury, and
A BTOBT OF AMEEICAN LIFE. 847
as he rode down the valley during the sweet and solemn
coming-on of the twilight, he was conscious of a sensation
which he had not experienced since the days of his early trials
in New York. He well remembered the melancholy Sabbath
evenings, when he walked along the deserted North River
piers, watching the purple hills of Staten Island deepen into
gray as the sunset faded when all that he saw, the quiet
vessels, the cold bosom of the bay, the dull red houses on the
shores and even the dusky heaven overhead, was hollow and
unreal when there was no joy in the Present and no promise
in the Future. The same hopeless chill came over him now.
All the life had gone out of the landscape ; its colors were
cold and raw, the balmy tonic odor of the golden-rods and
meadow marigolds seemed only designed to conceal some
rank odor of decay, and the white front of Lakeside greeted
him with the threat of a prison rather than the welcome of a
home.
On the evening of the second day Bute returned, as de-
lighted to get back as if he had made a long journey. The
light of his new life still lay upon him and gave its human
transfiguration to his face. Woodbury studied the change, un-
consciously to its subject, with a curiosity which he had never
before acknowledged in similar cases. He saw the man's su-
preme content in the healthy clearness of his eye, in the light,
elastic movement of his limbs, and in the lively satisfaction with
which he projected plans of labor, in which he was to perform
the principal part. He had taken a fresh interest in life, and
was all courage and activity. In Carrie, on the other hand,
the trustful reliance she had exhibited appeared now to have
assumed the form of a willing and happy submission. She
recognized the ascendency of sex, in her husband, without
being able to discern its nature. Thus Bute's plain common-
sense suddenly took the form of rough native intellect in her
eyes, and confessing (to herself, only) her own deficiency,
her affection was supported by the pride of her respect. Her
old aunt had whispered to her, before they left Tiberius:
848 HANNAH THURSTON:
" Can-line, you're a lucky gal. Y*r husband's a proper uio
man as ever I see, and so well set-up, too. You'll "both be
well to do, afore you die, if you take keer o' what you've got,
and lay up what it brings in. I shouldn't wonder if you wai
able to send your boys to Collidge,"
This suggestion opened a new field for her ambition. Tho
Ihought seemed still a scarcely permitted liberty, and she did
not dare to look at her face in the glass when it passed
tn rough her mind ; but the mother's instinct, which Inrks, un
suspected, in every maiden's breast, boldly asserted its ex-
istence to the young wife, and she began to dream of the
future reformers or legislators whom it might be her for-
tunate lot to cradle. Her nature, as we have already more
than once explained, was so shallow that it could not contain
more than one set of ideas at a time. The acquired affec-
tations by which she had hitherto been swayed, being driven
from the field, her new faith in Bute possessed her wholly,
and she became natural by the easiest transition in the world.
Characters like hers rarely have justice done to them. Gen-
erally, they are passed over as too trivial for serious inspec-
tion : their follies and vanities are so evident and transparent,
that the petit verre is supposed to be empty, when at tho
bottom may lie as potent a drop of the honey of human love,
as one can find in a whole huge ox-horn of mead.
Now began for Woodbury a life very different from what
he had anticipated. Bute took possession of his old steward-
ship with the joyous alacrity of a man doubly restored to tho
world, and Mrs. Carrie Wilson fidgeted about from morning
until night, fearful lest some neglected duty in her department
might be seen. The careful respect which Woodbury ex-
ercised towards her gave her both courage and content in her
new position, while it preserved a certain distance between
them. She soon learned, not only to understand but to share
Bute's exalted opinion of his master. In this respect, Wood-
bury's natural tact was unerring. Without their knowledge,
he guided those who lived about him to the exact places,
A. STOBY OF AMEEICAX LIFE. 349
which he desired them to fill. In any European household
such matters would have settled themselves without trouble ;
but in America, where the vote of the hired neutralizes that
of the hirer, and both have an equal chance of reaching the
Presidential chair where the cook and chambermaid may
happen to wear more costly bonnets than their mistress, and
to have a livelier interest in the current fashions, it requires
no little skill to narmonize the opposite features of absolute
equaMty and actual subjection. Too great a familiarity, ao
cording to the old proverb, breeds contempt; too strict an
assertion of the relative positions, breeds rebellion.
The man of true cultivation, who may fraternize at will
with the humblest and rudest of the human race, reserves,
nevertheless, the liberty of selecting his domestic associate
Woodbury insisted on retaining his independence to this ex-
tent, not from an assumption of superiority, but from a resist-
ance to the dictation of the uncultivated in every thing that
concerned his habits of life. He would not have hesitated to
partake of a meal in old Melinda's cottage, but it was always
a repugnant sensation to him, on visiting the Merryfields,
when an Irish laborer from the field came in his shirt-sleeves,
or a strapping mulatto woman, sweating from the kitchen fire,
to take their places at the tea-table. Bute's position was
above that of a common laborer, and "Woodbury, whose long
Indian life had not accustomed him to prefer lonely to social
meals, was glad to have the company of his wedded assistant*
at breakfast and dinner, and this became the ordinary habit ;
but he was careful to preserve a margin sufficient for his own
freedom and convenience. Carrie, though making occasions I
mistakes, brought so much good-will to the work, that the
housekeeping went on smoothly enough to a bachelor's eyes.
If Mrs. Blake's favorable judgment had reference to this aspect
of the case, she was sufficiently near the truth, but in another
respect she certainly made a great mistake.
It was some days before Woodbury would confess to him-
<elf the disturbance which the ne\v household, though so con-
860 HANNAH THUKSTON:
veniently regulated, occasioned him. The sight of Bute'i
clear morning face, the stealthy glance of delight with which
he followed the movements of his beaming little wife, as sh<*
prepared the breakfast-table, the eager and absurd manoeuvres
which she perpetrated to meet him for just one second (long
enough for the purpose), outside the kitchen-door as he re-
turned from the field all these things singularly annoyed
Woodbury. The two were not openly demonstrative in their
nuptial content, but it was constantly around them like an
atmosphere. A thousand tokens, so minute that alone they
meant nothing, combined to express the eternal joy which
man possesses in woman, and woman in man. It pervaded
the mansion of Lakeside from top to bottom, like one of those
powerful scents which cling to the very wails and cannot be
washed out. When he endeavored to avoid seeing it or sur-
mising its existence, in one way, it presented itself to him in
another. When, as it sometimes happened, either of the
parties became conscious that he or she had betrayed a little
too much tenderness, the simulated indifference, the unnatural
gravity which followed, made the bright features of their new
world all the more painfully distinct by the visible wall which
it built up, temporarily, between him and them. He was
isolated in a way which left him no power of protest. They
were happy, and his human sympathy forbade him to resent it;
they were ignorant and uncultivated, in comparison to himself,
and his pride could give him no support ; they were sincere,
and his own sincerity of character was called upon to recog-
nize it ; their bond was sacred, and demanded his reverence.
Why, then, should he be disturbed by that which enlisted all
his better qualities, and peremptorily checked the exercise of
the opposite ? Why, against all common-sense, all gentle in-
stincts, all recognition of the loftiest human duty, should he
in this new Paradise of Love, be the envious serpent rather
than the protecting angel ?
The feeling was clearly there, whatever might be its expla-
nation. There were times when he sought to reason it away
A STOliY OF AMERICAN lIFfi. 361
as the imaginary jealousy of a new landed proprietor, who
presents to himself the idea of ownership, in every pos
sible form in order to enjoy it the more thoroughly. Lake-
side was his, to the smallest stone inside his boundary fence,
and the mossiest shingle on the barn-roof; buv the old house
~-the vital heart of the property now belonged more to
others than to himself. The dead had signed away their in-
terest in its warmth and shelter, but it was haunted in every
chambei by the ghosts of the living. The new-made husband
and wife filled it with a feeling of home, m which he had no
part. They had usurped his right, and stolen the comfort
which ought to belong to him alone. It was their house, and
he the tenant. As he rode down the valley, in the evenings,
and from the bridge over Roaring Brook glanced across the
meadows to the sunny knoll, the love, which was not his own,
looked at him from the windows glimmering in the sunset and
seemed to say : " You would not ask me to be your guest, but
I am here in spite of you !"
Woodbury, however, though his nature was softened by the
charm of a healthy sentiment, was not usually imaginative. He
was not the man to endure, for any length of time, a mental or
moral unrest, without attempting to solve it. His natural pow
ers of perception, his correct instincts, his calm judgment, and
his acquired knowledge of life, enabled him to interpret him-
self as well as others. He never shrank from any revelation
which his own heart might make to him. If a wound smarted,
tie thrust the probe to the bottom with a steady hand. Tin
pain was none the less, afterwards, perhaps, but he could esti
mate when it would heal. He possessed, moreover, the virtu*
BO often mistaken for egotism, of revering in himself the aspi
rations, the sacrifices, and the sanctities which he revered it.
other men. Understanding, correctly, his nature as a man,
his perceptions were not easily confused. There are persons
whose moral nature is permanently unhinged by the least
license: there are others who may be led, by circumstance.
into far graver aberrations, and then swing back, without
Sfil2 HANNAH THURSTOfr:
effort, to their former integrity. He belonged to the lattei
class.
It was not long, therefore, before he had surveyed the whole
ground of his disturbance. Sitting, late into the night, in hia
library, he would lay down his book beside the joss-stick,
tvhich smouldered away into a rod of white ashes in its boat,
and quietly deliberate upon his position. He recalled every
sensation of annoyance or impatience, not disguising its injus-
tice or concealing from himself its inherent selfishness, while
on the other hand he admitted the powerful source from which
it sprang. He laid no particular blame to his nature, from the
fa ;t that it obeyed a universal law, and deceived himself by no
promise of resistance. Half the distress of the race is caused
by their fighting battles which can never be decided. Wood-
bury's knowledge simply taught him how to conceal his trouble,
and that was all he desired. He knew that the ghost which
had entered Lakeside must stay there until he should bring
another ghost to dislodge it.
Where Avas the sweet phantom to be found ? If, in some
impatient moment, he almost envied Bute the possession of the
attached, confiding, insipid creature, in whom the former was
so imspeakably content, his good sense told him, the next,
that the mere capacity to love was not enough for the needs
of a life. That which is the consecration of marriage does not
alone constitute marriage. Of all the women whom he knew,
but one could offer him the true reciprocal gifts. Towards
her, he acknowledged himself to be drawn by an interest much
stronger than that of intellect an interest which might grow,
if he allowed it, into love. The more he saw or learned of
ihis woman, the more admirably pure and noble his heart
acknowledged her to be. He had come to look upon her errors
with a gentle pity, which taught him to avoid assailing them,
whenever the assault might give her pain. Was the hard,
exacting manner in which she claimed delusive rights- -not,
indeed, specially for herself, but for all her sex the resu-t of
her position as a champion of those rights, or was it an inte
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 368
gral part of herself? This was the one important question
which it behooved him to solve. To what extent was the false
nature superimposed upon the true woman beneath it ?
Supposing, even, that he should come to love her, and, im-
probable as it might seem, should awaken an answering lore
in her heart, would she unite her fate, unconditionally, to his ?
Would she not demand, in advance, security for some unheard-
of domestic liberty, as a partial compensation for the legal
rights which were still withheld ? One of her fellow-chnmpi-
onesses had recently married, and had insisted on retaining her
maiden name. He had read, in the newspapers, a contract
drawn up and signed by the two, which had disgusted him by
its cold business character. He shuddered as the idea of
Hannah Thurston presenting a similar contract for his signa-
ture, crossed his mind. " No !" he cried, starting up : " it is
incredible !" Nothing in all his intercourse with her sug-
gested such a suspicion. Even in the grave dignity of her
manner she was entirely woman. The occasional harshness
of judgment or strength of prejudice which repealed him, were
faults, indeed, but faults that would melt away in the light of
a better knowledge of herself. She was at present in a posi-
tion of fancied antagonism, perhaps not wholly by her own
action. The few men who agreed with her gave her false ideas
of their own sex : the others whom she knew misunderstood
and misrepresented her. She thus stood alone, bearing the
burden of aspirations, which, however extravagant, were splen-
didly earnest and unselfish.
Mrs. Blake's words came back to Woodbury's memory and
awakened a vague confidence in his own hopes. She was too
clear-eyed a woman to be easily mistaken in regard to one of
her sex. Her bantering proposition might have been intended
to convey a serious counsel. " A strong woman can only be
overcome by superior strength." But how should this strength
(supposing he possessed it) be exercised ? Should he crush
her masculine claims under a weight of argument ? Impossi-
ble: if she were to be convinced at all, it must be by the
354 HANNAH THURSTON:
knowledge that comes through love. There was another form
of strength, he thought a conquering magnetism of presence,
H force of longing which supplants will, a warmth of passion
which disarms resistance but such strength, again, is simply
Love, and he must love before he could exercise it. The ques-
tion, therefore, was at last narrowed to this : should he cherish
the interest he already felt until it grew to the passion he pre-
figured, and leave to fate its return, free as became a woman
or fettered with suspicious provisions?
This, however, was a question not so easy to decide. Were
he sure of exciting a reciprocal interest, the venture, he felt,
would be justified to his own heart; but nothing in her man-
ner led him to suspect that she more than tolerated him in
distinction to her former hostile attitude and there is no mau
of gentle nature but shrinks from the possibility of a failure.
" Ah," said he, " I am not so young as I thought. A young
man would not stop to consider, and doubt, and weigh proba-
bilities. If I fail, my secret is in sacred keeping ; if I win, I
must win every thing. Am I not trying to keep up a youthful
faculty of self-illusion which is lost forever, by demanding au
.deal perfection in woman ? No, no ! I must cease to cheat
myself: I must not demand a warmer flame than I can give."
Sometimes he attempted to thrust the subject from hia
mind. The deliberations in which he had indulged seemed to
him cold, material, and unworthy the sanction of love. They
had the effect, however, of making Hannah Thurston's imago
an abiding guest in his thoughts, and the very familiarity with
his own doubts rendered them less formidable than at first. A
life crowned with the bliss he passionately desired, might re-
ward the trial. If it failed, his future could not be more bar-
ren and lonely than it now loomed before him : how barren,
how lonely, every sight of Bute's face constantly resuggostcd.
The end of it all was a determination to seek Hannab
Thurston's society to court a friendly intimacy, in which h
should not allow his heart to be compromised. So far he
might go with safely to himself, and in no case, according to
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 656
his views, could there be danger to her. His acquaintance
with the widow, which had been kept up by an occasional
brief visit, and the present condition of the latter's health, gave
him aU the opportunity he needed. The Catawba grapes were
already ripening on the trellises at Lakeside, and he would
take the earliest bunches to the widow's cottage.
The impression, in Ptolemy society, of a strong antagonism
between himself and Hannah Thurston, was very general.
Even Mrs. Waldo, whose opportunities of seeing both were
best of all, fancied that their more cordial demeanor towards
each other, in their later interviews, was only a tacitly under-
stood armistice. Woodbury was aware of this impression, and
determined not to contradict it for the present.
Thus, tormented from without and within, impelled by an
outcry of his nature that would not be silenced, without con-
sciousness of love, he took the first step, knowing that it might
lead him to love a woman whose ideas were repugnant to all
his dreams of marriage and of domestic peace.
866 BANK AH THURSTOV:
CHAPTER XXVIIL
IK WHICH HANNAH THTTRSTON, ALSO, HAS HER TROUBLES.
WHEN Woodbury made his first appearance at the cottage,
the Widow Thurston, who had not seen him since his return
from the Lakes, frankly expressed her pleasure in his society.
It was one of her favorable days, and she was sitting in her
well-cushioned rocking-chair, with her feet upon a stool. She
had grown frightfully thiu and pale during the summer, but
the lines of physical pain had almost entirely passed away
from her face. Her expression denoted great weakness and
languor. The calm, resigned spirit which reigned in her eyes
was only troubled, at times, when they rested on her daughter.
She had concealed from the latter, as much as possible, the
swiftness with which her vital force was diminishing, lest she
should increase the care and anxiety which was beginning to
tell upon her health. She knew that the end was not far off:
she could measure its approach, and she acknowledged in her
heart how welcome it would be, but for her daughter's sake.
" It's very kind of thee to come, Friend Woodbury," said
she. " I've been expecting thee before."
" I ourjht to have come sooner," said he, " but there have
been changes at Lakeside."
" Yes, I know. The two guests that will not be kept oul
have come to thy home, as they come to the homes of others.
We must be ready for either. The Lord sends them both."
" Yes," said Woodbury, with a sigh, " but one of them is
long in coming to me." The sweet serenity and truth of tho
old woman's words evoked a true reply. All that she said
same from n heart too sincere for disguise, and spoke to hif
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 357
undisguised self. There would have been something approach-
in g to sacrilege in an equivocal answer.
She looked at him with a sad, serious inquiry in her glance,
"I see thee's not hasty to open thy doors," she said, at
last, " and it's well. There's always a blessing in store for
them that wait. I pray that it may come to thee in the Lord's
good time."
" Amen !" he exclaimed, earnestly. An irresistible impulse)
the next moment, led him to look at Hannah Thurston. She
was setting in order the plants on the little flower-stand before
the window, and her face was turned away from him, but there
\ias an indefinable intentness in her attitude which told him
tnat no word had escaped her ears.
Presently she seated herself, and took part in the conversa-
tion, which turned mainly upon Bute and his wife. The light
from the south window fell upon her face, and Woodbury
noticed that it had grown somewhat thinner and wore a weary
anxious expression. A pale violet shade had settled under the
dark-gray eyes and the long lashes drooped their fringes. No
latent defiance lurked in her features : her manner was grave,
almost to sadness, and in her voice there was a gentle languor,
like that which follows mental exhaustion.
In all their previous interviews, Woodbury had never been
able entirely to banish from his mind the consciousness of her
exceptional position, as a woman. It had tinged, without his
having suspected the fact, his demeanor towards her. Some
thing of the asserted independence of man to man had modi-
fied the deferential gentleness of man to woman. She had,
perhaps, felt this without being able to define it, for, though
he had extorted her profound respect he had awakened in her
a disposition scarcely warmer than she gave to abstract quali-
ties. Now, however, she presented herself to him under a
different aspect. He forgot her masculine aspirations, seeing
in her only the faithful, anxious daughter, over whom the
shadow of her approaching loss deepened from day to day.
The former chill of his presence did not return, but in its place
85fi HANNAH THURSTON.
a subtle warmth seemed to radiate from him. Before, his
words had excited her intellect : now, they addressed them-
selves to her feelings. As the conversation advanced, she re-
covered her usual animation, yet still preserved the purely
feminine character which he had addressed in her. The posi-
tions which they had previously occupied were temporarily
forgotten, and at parting each vaguely felt the existence ol
unsuspected qualities in the other.
During this first visit, Hannah Thurston indulged without
reserve, in the satisfaction which it gave to her. She always
found it far more agreeable to like than to dislike. Wood-
bury's lack of that enthusiasm which in her soul was an ever
burning and mounting fire his cold, dispassionate power of
judgment his tolerance of what she considered perverted
habits of the most reprehensible character, and his indifference
to those wants and wrongs of the race which continually appeal-
ed to the Reformer's aid, had at first given her the impression
that the basis of his character was hard and selfish. She had
since modified this view, granting him the high attributes of
truth and charity ; she had witnessed the manifestation of his
physical and moral courage ; but his individuality still pre-
served a cold, statuesque beauty. His mastery over himself,
she supposed, extended to his intellectual passions and his
affections. He would only be swayed by them so far as
seemed to him rational and convenient.
His words to her mother recalled to hei mind, she knew
not why, the description of her own father's death. It was
possible that an equal capacity for passion might here again be
hidden under a cold, immovable manner. She had sounded,
tolerably well, the natures of the men of whom she had seen
most, during the past six or eight years, ard had found that
their own unreserved protestations of feeling were the measure
of their capacity to feel. There was no necessity, indeed, to
throw a plummet into their streams, for they had egotistically
set up their own Nilometers, and the depth of the current
was indicated at the surface. She began to suspect, now, that
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 359
she had been mistaken in judging Woodbury by the same test
The thought, welcome as it was from a broad, humane point
of view, nevertheless almost involved a personal humiliation.
Her strong sense of justice commanded her to rectify the rnib
lake, while her recognition of it weakened her faith in b<r
w>l
In a few days Woodbury came again, and as before, on an
rraud of kindness to her mother. She saw that his visits gave
pleasuie to the latter, and for that reason alone it was her duty
to desire them, but on this occasion she detected an independ-
ent pleasure of her own at his appearance. A certain friendly
familiarity seemed to be already established between them.
She had been drawn into it, she scarcely knew how, and could
not now withdraw, yet the consciousness of it began to agitate
her in a singular way. A new power came from Woodbury's
presence, surrounded and assailed her. It was not the chill of
his unexcitable intellect, stinging her into a half-indignant re-
sistance. It was a warm, seductive, indefinable magnetism,
which inspired her with a feeling very much like terror. Its
weight lay upon her for hours after he had gone. Whatever
it was, its source, she feared, must lie in herself; he seemed
utterly unconscious of any design to produce a particular im-
pression upon her. His manner was as frank and natural as
ever : he conversed about the books which he or she had re-
cently read, or on subjects of general interest, addressing much
of his discourse to her mother rather than herself. She no-
ticed, indeed, that he made no reference to the one question
on which they differed so radically ; but a little reflection
showed her that he had in no former case commenced the dis-
mssion, nor had he ever been inclined to prolong it when
started.
Their talk turned for a while on the poets. Hannah Thurs
ton had but slight acquaintance with Tennyson, who waa
Woodbury's favorite among living English authors, and he
promised to bring her the book. He repeated the stanzas de-
scriptive of Jephtha's Daughter, in the "Dream of Fan
560 HANNAH THURSTON .
Women," the majestic rhythm and superb Hebrew spirit of
which not only charmed her, but her mother also. The old
woman had a natural, though very uncultivated taste for
poetry. She enjoyed nothing which was purely imaginative :
verse, for her, must have a devotional, or at least an ethical
character. In rhythm, also her appreciation was limited. She
ielighted most in the stately march of the heroic measure, and
next to that, in the impetuous rush of the dactylic. In youtu
her favorite poems had been the " Davidis" of Thomas El wood,
Pope's " Essay on Man," and the lamenting sing-song of Re-
fine Weeks, a Nantncket poet, whom history has forgotten
The greater part of these works she knew by heart, and would
often repeat in a monotonous chant, resembling that in which
she had formerly preached. Hannah, however, had of law
years somewhat improved her mother's taste by the careful
selection of poetry of a better character, especially Milton'a
" Christmas Hymn," and the works of Thomson and Cow-
per.
Woodbury returned the very next day, bringing the prom-
ised volumes. He was about to leave immediately, but the
widow insisted on his remaining.
" Do sit down a while, won't thee ?" said she. " I wish thee
would read me something else : I like to hear thy voice."
Woodbury could not refuse to comply. He sat down,
turned over the leaves of the first volume, and finally selected
the lovely idyll of " Dora," which he read with a pure, dis-
tinct enunciation. Hannah Thurston, busy with her sewing at
a little stand near the eastern window, listened intently. At
the close she turned towards him with softened eyes, and ex-
claimed : " How simple ! how beautiful !"
" I'm greatly obliged tv thee, Maxwell," said the widow,
addressing Woodbury for the first time by his familiar name.
" It is always pleasant," she added, smiling, " to an old
woman, to receive a kindness from a young man."
' But it ought to be the young man's pleasure, as it is hia
duty, to give it," lie answered. " I am glad that you like my
A STOKY OF AMEBICAN LIFE 861
fevcrite author. I have brought along 'The Princess, also,
Miss Thurston : you have certainly heard of it-?"
" Oh yes," gaid she, " I saw several critical notices of it
when it was first published, and have always wished to
read it."
" It gives a poetical view of a subject we have sometimes
discussed," he added playfully, " and I am not quite sure thai
you will be satisfied with the close. It should not be read,
however, as a serious argument on either side. Tennyson, I
suspect, chose the subject for its picturesque effects, rather
than from any intentional moral purpose. I confess I think he
is right. "We may find sermons in poems as we find them in
stones, but one should be as unconscious of the fact as the
other. It seems to me that all poetry which the author de-
signs, in advance, to be excessively moral or pious, is more or
less a failure."
" Mr. "Woodbury ! Do you really think so ?" exclaimed
Hannah Thurston, in surprise.
" Yes ; but the idea is not original with me. I picked it up
somewhere, and finding it true, adopted it as my own. There
was a fanciful illustration, if I recollect rightly that poetry is
the blossom of Literature, not the fruit ; therefore that while
it suggests the fruit while its very odor foretells the future
flavor it must be content to be a blossom and nothing more.
The meaning was this : that a moral may breathe through a
poem from beginning to end, but must not be plumply ex-
pressed. I don't know the laws which govern the minds of
poets, but I know when they give me most pleasure. Apply
the test to yourself: I shall be interested to know the result.
Here, for instance, is ' The Princess,' which, if it has a par-
ticular moral, has one which you may possibly reject, but I am
Bare your enjoyment of pure poetry will not thereby be
lessened."
" I shall certainly read the book with all the more interest
from what you have said," she frankly replied. " You have
very much more literary cultivation than T, and perhaps it ?H
16
862 HANNAH THTTRSTON:
presumptuous in me to dispute your opinion ; but my nature
loads me to honor an earnest feeling for truth and humanity,
even when its expression is not in accordance with literary
laws."
" I honor such a feeling also, whenever it is genuine, how
ever expressed," Woodbury answered, "but I make a dis
tJnction between the feeling and the expression. In other
words, the cook may have an admirable character, and yet the
roast may be spoiled. Pollok is considered orthodox and
Byron heretical, but I am sure you prefer the ' Hebrew Melo-
dies' to the " Course of Time.' "
" Hannah, I guess thee'd better read the book first," said
the widow, who did not perceive how the conversation had
drifted away from its subject. "It is all the better, perhaps,
if our friend differs a little from thee. When we agree in
every thing, we don't learn much from one another."
" You are quite right, Friend Thurston," said Woodbnry,
rising. " I should be mistaken in your daughter if she ac-
cepted any opinion of mine, without first satisfying her own
mind of its truth. Good-by !"
He took the widow's hand with a courteous respect, and
then extended his own to Hannah. Hers he held gently fora mo-
ment while he said : " Remember, I shall want to know what
impression the poem makes on your mind. Will you tell me?"
" Thank you. I will tell you," she said.
Strange to sav, the boldest eulogiums which had ever reached
O * ' O
Hannah Thurston's ears, never came to them with so sweet a
welcome as Woodbury's parting compliment. Nay, it waa
scarcely a compliment at all ; it was a simple recognition of
that earnest seeking for truth which she never hesitated to
claim for herself. Perhaps it was his supposed hostile attitude
whi<:h gave the words their value, for our enemies always have
us at a disadvantage when they begin to praise us. Politicians
go into obscurity, and statesmen fall from their high places,
ruined, not by the assaults but by the flatteries of the opposit*
oarty.
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 363
She could no longer consider Woodbury in the light of an
enemy. His presence, his words, his self-posgiessed manner
failed to excite the old antagonism, which always marred hvj)
intellectual pleasure in his society. One by one Tie iiscord
ant elements in her own nature seemed to be withdrawn, 01
rather, she feared, were benumbed by some new power whiol
lie was beginning to manifest. She found, with dismay, thai
instead of seeking, as formerly, for weapons to combat his
views, her mind rather inclined to the discovery of reasons for
agreeing with them. It mattered little, perhaps, which course
she adopted, so long as the result was Truth ; but the fact that
she recognized the change as agreeable gave her uneasiness.
It might be the commencement of a process of mental sub-
jection the first meshes of a net of crafty reasoning, designed
to ensnare her judgment and lead her away from the high aims
she prized. Then, on the other hand, she reflected that such
a process presupposed intention on Woodbury's part, and
how could she reconcile it with his manly honesty, his open
integrity of character ? Thus, the more enjoyment his visits
gave her while they lasted, the greater the disturbance which
they left behind.
That new and indescribable effluence which his presence gave
forth not only continued, but seemed to increase in power.
Sometimes it affected her with a singular mixture of fascination
and terror, creating a physical restlessness which it was almost
impossible to subdue. An oppressive weight lay upon her
breast; her hands burned, and the nerves in every limb trem-
bled with a strange impulse to start up and fly. When, at night,
in the seclusion of her chamber, she recalled this condition, her
cheeks grew hot with angry shame of herself, and she clenched
her hands with the determination to resist the return of such
weakness. But even as she did so, she felt that her power of
will Lad undergone a change. An insidious, corrosive doubt
seemed to have crept over the foundations of her mental life:
the forms of faith, once firm and fair as Ionic pillars under the
cloudless heaven, rocked and tottered as if with the first me
864 HANNAH THURSTOX:
nacing throes of an earthquake. When she recalled her past
labors for the sacred cause of Woman, a mocking demon now
and then whispered to her that even in good there were the
seeds of harm, and that she had estimated, in vanity, the fruit*
of htr ministry. "God give me strength!" she whispered
" strength to conquer doubt, strength to keep the truth for
w hich I have lived and which must soon be my only life,
strength to rise out of a shameful weakness which I cannot
understand !"
Then, ere she slept, a hope to which she desperately clung,
came to smooth her uneasy pillow. Her own future life must
differ from her present. The hour was not far off, she knew,
when her quiet years in the cottage must come to an end.
She could not shut her eyes to ihe fact that her mother's time
on earth was short ; and short as it was, she would not cloud
it by anxiety for the lonely existence beyond it. She resolute-
ly thrust her own future from her mind, but it was nevertheless
always present in a vague, hovering form. The uncertainty of
her fate, she now thought, the dread anticipation of coming
sorrow had shaken and unnerved her. No doubt her old,
steadfast self reliance and self-confidence would assert them-
selves, after the period of trial had been passed. She must only
have patience, for the doubts which she could not now answer
would then surely be solved. With this consolation at her
heart with a determination to possess patience, which she
found much more easy than the attempt to possess herself of
will, she would close her aching eyes and court the refreshing
oblivion of sleep.
But sleep did not always come at her call. That idea of
the sad, solitary future, so near at hand, would not be exor-
oised. If she repelled it, it came back again in company with
a still more terrible ghost of the Past her early but now
Hopeless dream of love. When she tried to call that dream a
delusion, all the forces of her nature gave her the lie all the
fiores of her heart, trembling in divinest harmony under the
touch of the tormenting angel, betrayed her, despairingly, to
A STOBY OP AMERICAN 1 LIFE. 365
her own self. The crown of independence which she had won
bruised her brows ; the throne which she claimed was carved
of ice ; the hands of her sister women, toiling in the same
path, were grateful in their help, but no positive pulse of
strength throbbed from them to her heart. The arm whicl
ilone could stay her must have firmer muscle than a woman's
it must uphold as well as clasp. Why did Heaven give her
the dream when it must be forever vain? Where was the
man at the same time tender enough to love, strong enough to
protect and assist, and just enough to acknowledge the equal
rights of woman ? Alas ! nowhere in tb< world. She could
not figure to herself his features ; he was a far-oft unattaina-
ble idea, only; but a secret whisper, deep in th? >& -v edest
shrine of her soul, told her that if he indeed ex:i*t''-!, if he
should find his way to her, if the pillow under her ch'.-ek were
his breast, if his arms held her fast in the happy subjection
of love but no, the picture was not to be endured. It was
a bliss, more terrible in its hopelessness, than the most awful
grief in its certainty. She shuddered and clasped her hands
crushingly together, as with the strength of desperation, she
drove it from her bosom.
Had her life been less secluded, the traces of her internal
struggles must have been detected by others. Her mother,
indeed, noticed an unusual restlessness in her manner, but at-
tributed it to care for her own condition. With the ex-
ception of Mrs. Waldo, they saw but few persons habitually.
.Miss Sophia Stevenson or even Mrs. Lemuel Styles occasionally
called, and the widow always made use of these occasions to
-ersuade Hannah to restore herself by a walk in the open air.
When the former found that their visits were thus put to good
service, they benevolently agreed to come regularly. The
relief she thus obtained, in a double sense, cheered and invig-
orated Hannah Thurston. Her favorite walk, out the Muin
gansville road, to the meadows of East Atauga Creek, took
her in a quarter of an hour from the primly fenced lots and
utiff houses of the village to the blossoming banks of th
30tf HANNAH THURSTON:
winding stream, to the sweet breath of the scented grass, and
the tangled thickets of alder, over which bittersweet and
clematis ran riot and strove for the monopoly of support
Here, all her vague mental troubles died away like the memory
of an oppressive dream ; she drew resignation from every as-
pect of Nature, and confidence in herself from the crowding
associations of the Past which the landscape inspired.
Mrs. Waldo, of course, soon became aware of Woodbury's fre-
quent visits. He had made no secret of them, as he always called
at the Parsonage at the same time, and she had shared equally
in the ripening vintage of Lakeside. But he had spoken much
more of the Widow Thurston than of her daughter, and the
former had been equally free in expressing her pleasure at his
visits, so that Mrs. Waldo never doubted the continuance of
the old antagonism between Hannah and Woodbury. Their
reciprocal silence in relation to each other confirmed her in
this supposition. She was sincerely vexed at a dislike which
seemed not only unreasonable, but unnatural, and grew so im-
patient at the delayed conciliation that she finally spoke her
mind on (he subject.
" Well, Hannah," she said, one day, when Woodbury's
name had been incidentally mentioned, " I really think it is time
that you and he should practise a little charity towards each
other. I've been waiting, and waiting, to see your prejudices
begin to wear away, now that you know him better. You
can't think how it worries me that two of my best friends,
who are so right and sensible in all other acts of their lives,
should he so stubbornly set against each other."
" Prejudices ? Does he think I am stubbornly set against
him ? " Hannah Thurston cried, the warm color mounting into
ter face.
" Not he ! He says nothing about you, and that's the worst
of it. You say nothing about him. either. But anybody can
Fee it. There, I've vexed you, and I suppose I ought not to
have opened my mouth, but I love you so dearly, Hannali I
love him, too, as a dear friend and I can't for the life of m*
A STORY OP AMERICAN- LIFE. 38 1
see why you are blind to the truth and goodness in each othei
that I see in both of you."
Here Mrs. Waldo bent over her and kissed her cheek as a
mother might have done. The color faded from Hannah
Thurston's face, as she answered : " I know you are a dear,
ood friend, and as such you cannot vex me. I do not know
whether you have mistaken Mr. Woodbury's feelings : yon
certainly have mistaken mine. I did his character, at first, in-
justice, I will confess. Perhaps I may have had a prejudice
against him, but I am not aware that I have one now. I
honoi him as a noble-minded, just, and unselfish man. We
have different views of life, but in this respect he has taught
me, by his tolerance towards me, to be at least equally tolerant
towards him."
" You make me happy !" cried Mrs. Waldo, in unfei^fied
delight ; but, the next instant she added, with a sigh : " But, in
spite of all, you don't seem to me like friends."
This explanation added another trouble to Hannah Thurs-
ton's mind. It was very possible that Woodbury suspected
her of cherishing an unfriendly prejudice against him. She
bad assuredly given him cause for such a suspicion, and if the
one woman in Ptolemy, who, after her mother, knew her best,
had received this impression, it would not be strange if he
shared it. In such case, what gentle consideration, what for-
giving kindness had he not exhibited towards her ? What
other man of her acquaintance would have acted with the same
magnanimity? Was it not her duty to undeceive him not
by words, but by meeting him frankly and gratefully by ex
hibiting to him, in some indirect way, her confidence in 1 is
nobility of character ?
Thus, ?very thing conspired to make him the centre of her
thouo-hts, and the more she struggled to regain her freedom,
the more helplessly she entangled herself in the web which hia
presence had spun around her.
862 HAXNAH TIIURSTON:
CHAPTER XXIX.
IN WHICH A CKISI8 APPROACHES.
ONE cannot play with fire without burning one's finger*
Woodbury supposed that he was pursuing an experiment,
which might at any moment be relinquished, long after a deep
and irresistible interest in its object had taken full possession
of him. Seeing Hannah Thurston only as a daughter con-
versing with her only as a woman her other character ceased
to be habitually present to his mind. After a few visits, the
question which he asked himself was not: "Will I be able to
love her ?" but : " Will I be able to make her love me ?" Of
bis own ability to answer the former question he was entirely
satisfied, though he steadily denied to himself the present ex-
istence of passion. He acknowledged that her attraction for
him had greatly strengthened that he detected a new pleasure
in her society that she was not unfemininely cold and hard,
as he had feared, but at least gentle and tender : yet, with all
(his knowledge, there came no passionate, perturbing thrill to
his heart, such as once had heralded the approach of ove. She
had now a permanent place in his thoughts, it is true: he
could scarcely have shut her out, if he had wished : and all
the new knowledge which he had acquired prompted him to
Stake his rising hopes upon one courageous throw, and trust
the future, if he gained it, to the deeper and truer develop-
ment of her nature which would follow.
At the next visit which he paid to the cottage after Mrs.
Waldo's half-reproachful complaint, the friendly warmth with
which Hannah Thurston received him sent a delicious throb
of sweetness to his heart. Poor Hannah ! In her anxiety to
A STOKY OP AMERICAN LIFE. 369
be j.ist, she had totally forgotten what her treatment of Seth
Wattles, from a similar impulse, had brought upon her. She
only saw, in Woodbury's face, the grateful recognition of her
manner towards him, and her conscience became quiet at once
The key-note struck at greeting gave its character to the inter
new, which Woodbury prolonged much beyond his usual
aabit. He had never been so attractive, but at the same time,
Us presence had never before caused her such vague a arm.
All the cold indifference, which she had once imagined to be
his predominant characteristic, had melted like a snow-wreath
in the sunshine : a soft, warm, pliant grace diffused itself over
his features and form, and a happy under-current of feeling
made itself heard in his lightest words. He drew her genuine
self to the light, before she suspected how much she had
allowed him to see : she, who had resolved that he should only
know her in her strength, had made a voluntary confession of
her weakness !
Hannah Thurston was proud as she was pure, and this weird
and dangerous power in the man, wounded as well as dis-
turbed her. She felt sure that he exercised it unconsciously,
and therefore he was not to be blamed; but it assailed her in-
dividual freedom her coveted independence of other minds--
none the less. It was weakness to shrink from the encounter:
it was humiliation to acknowledge, as she must, that her
powers of resistance diminished with each attack.
Woodbury rode home that evening very slowly. For the
first time since Bute's marriage, as he looked across the mead-
ows to a dusky white speck that glimmered from the knoll in
the darkening twilight, there was no pang at his heart. "I
foresee," he said to himself, " that if I do not take care, I shall
love this girl madly and passionately. I know her now in her
true tenderness and purity ; I see what a wealth of woman-
hood is hidden under her mistaken aims. But is she not too
loftily pure too ideal in her aspirations for my winning ?
Can she bear the knowledge of my life ? I cannot spare her
the test. If she comes to me at last, it must be with every
16*
370 HANNAH THURSTON:
veil of the Past lifted. There dare be no mystery betweet
us no skeleton in our cupboard. If she were less true, lesa
noble but no, there can be no real sacrament of marriagej
without previous confession. I am laying the basis of relation!
chat stretch beyond this life. It would be a greater wrong to
shrink, for her sake, than for my own. It must come to this,
and God give her strength of heart equal to her strength of
mind ! "
Woodbury felt that her relation to him had changed, and
he could estimate, very nearly, the character which it had now
assumed. Of hei struggles with herself of the painful im-
pression which his visits left behind he had, of course, nol
the slightest presentiment. He knew, however, that no sus-
picion of his feelings had entered her breast, and he had
reasons of his own for desiring that she should remain inno-
cent of their existence, for the present. His plans, here, came
to an end, for the change in himself interposed an anxiety
which obscured his thoughts. He had reached the point where
all calculation fails, and where the strongest man, if his pas-
sion be genuine, must place his destiny in the hands of
Chance.
But there is, fortunately, a special chance provided for cases
of this kind. All the moods of Nature, all the little accidents
of life, become the allies of love. When the lover, looking
back from his post of assured fortune over the steps by which
he attained it, thinks : " Had it not been for such or such a
circumstance, I might have wholly missed my happiness," he
does not recognize that all the powers of the earth and air
were really in league with him that his success was not the
miracle he supposed, but that his failure would have been. It
is well, however, that this delusion should come to silence I he
voice of pride, and temper his heart witL a grateful humility ;
for him it is necessary that " fear and sorrow fan the tire of
joy-;
Woodbury had no sooner intrusted to Chance the further
development of his fate, than Chance generously requited the
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 37.
It was certainly a wonderful coincidence that, as he
walked into Ptolemy on a golden afternoon in late September,
quite uncertain whether he should this time call at the widow's
cottage, he should meet Hannah Thurston on foot, just at the
junction of the Anacreon and Mulligansville highways. It
was Miss Sophia Stevenson's day for relieving her, and she had
gone out for her accustomed walk up the banks of the stream.
As Woodbury lifted his hat to greet her, his face brightened
with a pleasure which he did not now care to conceal. There
was a hearty, confiding warmth in the grasp of his hand, as he
stood face to face, looking into her clear, dark-gray eyes with
an expression as frank and unembarrassed as a boy's. It was
this transparent warmth and frankness which swept away her
cautious resolves at a touch. In spite of herself, she felt that
an intimate friendship was fast growing up between them, and
she knew not why the consciousness of it should make her so
uneasy. There was surely no reproach to her in the fact that
their ideas and habits were so different ; there was none of
her friends with whom she did not differ on points more or
less important. The current setting towards her was pure
and crystal-clear, yet she drew back from it as from the rush
of a dark and turbid torrent.
" Well-met !" cried Woodbury, with a familiar playfulness.
"We are both of one mind to-day, and what a day for out-of-
doors ! I am glad you are able to possess a part of it ; your
mother is better, I hope ?"
" She is much as usual, and I should not have left her, but
foi the kindness of a friend who comes regularly on this Jay
V the week to take my place for an hour or two."
' Have yeu this relief but once in seven days ?"
" Oh, no. Mrs. Styles comes on Tuesdays, and those two
days, I find, are sufficient for my needs. Mrs. Waldo would
relieve me every afternoon if I would allow her."
"If you are half as little inclined for lonely walks as I am,''
said Woodbury, " you will not refuse my companionship to
day. I see you are going ont the eastern road."
372 HAXNAH THUBSTOH .
"My favorite walk," she answered, "is in the meadowa
yonder. It is the wildest and most secluded spot in the neigh-
borhood of the village."
" Ah, I have noticed, from the road, in passing, the beauty
of those elms and clumps of alder, and the picturesque curvet
of the creek. I should like to make a nearer acquaintance
with them. Do you feel sufficient confidence in my apprecia-
tion of Nature to perform the introduction ?"
" Nature is not exclusive," said she, adopting his gay tone,
" and if she were, I think she could not exclude you, who have
known her in her royal moods, from so simple and unpretend-
ing a landscape as this."
" The comparison is good," he answered, walking onward
by her side, "but you have drawn the wrong inference. I
find that every landscape has an individual character. The
royal moods, as you rightly term them, may impose upon us,
like human royalty ; but the fact that you have been presented
at Court does not necessarily cause the humblest man to open
his heart to you. What is it to yonder alder thickets that I
have looked on the Himalayas ? What does East Atauga Creek
care for the fact that I have floated on the Ganges ? If the
scene has a soul at all, it will recognize every one of your foot-
steps, and turn a cold shoulder to me, if I come with any such
pretensions."
Hannah Thurston laughed at the easy adroitness with which
he had taken up and applied her words. It was a light, grace-
fill play of intellect to which she was unaccustomed which,
indeed, a year previous, would have struck her as trivial and
unworthy an earnest mind. But she had learned something
in that time. Her own mind was no longer content to move
in its former rigid channels; she acknowledged the cheerfol
brightness which a sunbeam of fancy can diffuse over the sober
coloring of thought.
He let down the movable rails from the panel of fonc*
wliich gave admittance into the meadow, and put then up
again after they had entered. The turf was thick and dry
A STOKi' OF AMERICAN LIFE. 878
witL a delightful elasticity which lifted the feet where they
pressed it. A few paces brought them to the edge of the belt
of thickets, or rather islands of lofty shrubbery, between which
the cattle had worn paths, and which here and there enclosed
little peninsulas of grass and mint, embraced by the swift
stream. The tall autumnal flowers, yellow and dusky pur-
ple, bloomed on all sides, and bunches of the lovely fringed
gentian, blue as a wave of the Mediterranean, were set among
the ripe grass like sapphires in gold. The elms which at in-
tervals towered over this picturesque jungle, had grown up
since the valley-bottom was cleared, and no neighboring trees
had marred the superb symmetry of their limbs.
Threading the winding paths to the brink of the stream, or
back again to the open meadow, as the glimpses through the
labyrinth enticed them, they slowly wandered away from the
road. Woodbury was not ashamed to show his delight in
every new fragment of landscape which their exploration dis-
closed, and Miss Thurston was thus led to make him acquainted
with her own selected gallery of pictures, although her exclu-
sive right of possession to them thereby passed away forever.
Across one of the bare, grassy peninsulas between the thicket
and the stream lay a huge log which the spring freshet had stolen
from some saw-mill far up the valley. Beyond it, the watery
windings ceased for a hundred yards or more, opening a space
for the hazy hills in the distance to show their purple crests.
Otherwise, the spot was wholly secluded: there was not a
dwelling in sight, nor even a fence, to recall the vicinity of
human life. This was the enticing limit of Hannah Thurston's
walks. She had not intended to go so far to-day, but "a
spirit in her feet" brought her to the place before she was '
aware.
" Ah 1" cried Woodbury, as they emerged from the tangled
paths, " I see that you are recognized here. Nature has inten-
tionally placed this seat for you at the very spot where you
have at once the sight of the hills and the sound of the water.
How musical it is, just at this point ! I know you sing here,
874 HA.NNAII THTJRSTON;
aometimes : you cannot help it, with such an accompaiii
ment."
She did not answer, but a flitting smile betrayed her assent.
They took their seats on the log, as if by a silent understand-
ing. The liquid gossip of the stream, in which many voices
seemed to mingle in shades of tone so delicate that the ear
lost, as soon as it caught them, sounded lullingly at their feet.
Now and then a golden leaf dropped from the overhanging
elm, and quivered slantwise to the ground.
" Ah, that reminds me," said Woodbury, finally breaking
the peaceful, entrancing silence "one of those exquisite songs
in ' The Princess' came into my head. Have you read the
book? You promised to tell me what impression it made
upon you."
" Tour judgment is correct, so far," she answered, " that it
is poetry, not argument. But it could never have been writ-
ten by one who believes in the just rights of woman. In the
first place, the Princess has a very faulty view of those rights,
and in the second place she adopts a plan to secure them which
is entirely impracticable. If the book had been written for a
serious purpose, I should have been disappointed ; but, taking
it for what it is, it has given me very great pleasure."
'" You say the Princess's plan of educating her sex to inde-
pendence is impracticable; yet pardon me if I have misunder-
stood you you seem to attribute your subjection to the influ-
ence of man an influence which must continue to exercise the
same power it ever has. What plan would you substitute for
hers?"
" I do not know," she answered, hesitatingly ; " I can only
hope and believe that the Truth must finally vindicate itself.
I have never aimed at any thiug more than to assert it."
" Then you do not place yourself in an attitude hostile to
man ?" he asked.
Hannah Thurston was embarrassed for a moment, but her
frankness conquered. " I fear, indeed, that I have done so,"
she said. " There have been times when a cruel attack hw
A STORY OP .AMERICAN LIFE. 375
driven me to resistance. You can scarcely appreciate out
position, Mr. Woodbury. We could bear opea and honorable
hostility, but the conventionalities which protect us against
that offer us no defence from sneers and ridicule. The very
term applied to us ' strong-minded' implies that weak minda
%re oui natural and appropriate inheritance. It is in human
nature I think, to forgive honest enmity sooner than covert
contempt."
" Would it satisfy you that the sincerity and unselfishness
of your aims are honored, though the aims themselves are
accounted mistaken."
" It is all we could ask now !" she exclaimed, her eyes grow-
ing darker and brighter, and her voice thrilling with its earnest
sweetness. " But who would give us that much ?"
" I would," said Woodbury, quietly. " Will you pardon
me for saying that it has seemed to me, until recently, as if
you suspected me of an active hostility which I have really
never felt. My opinions are the result of my experience of
men, and you cannot wonder if they differ from yours. I
should be very wrong to arrogate to myself any natural supe-
riority over you. I think there never can be any difficulty in
determining the relative rights of the sexes, when they truly
understand and respect each other. I can unite with you in
desiring reciprocal knowledge and reciprocal honor. If that
shall be Attained, will you trust to the result ?"
" Forgive me : I did misunderstand you," she said, not
answering his last question.
A pause ensued. The stream gurgled on, and the purple
hills smiled through the gaps in the autumnal foliage. " Do
you believe that Ida was happier with the Prince, supposing
he were faithful to the pictvre he drew, than if she had re-
mained at the head of her college ?" lie suddenly asked.
" You will acquit me of hostility to your sex when I say 'Yes.'
The Prince promised her equa'itv, not subjection. It is sad
that the noble and eloquent close of the poem should be itu
most imaginative part."
36 HANKAK
The toue ot mournful unbelief in her voice fired Woodbury'i
blood. His heart protested against her words and demanded
to be heard. The deepening intimacy of their talk had brought
him to that verge of frankness where the sanctities of feeling,
which hide themselves from the gaze of the world, steal up to
the light and boldly reveal their features. "No," he said, warm-
ly and earnestly, " the picture is not imaginative. Its counter-
part exists in the heart of every true man. There can be no
ideal perfection in marriage because there is none in life ; but
it can, and should, embody the tenderest affection, the deepest
trust, the divinest charity, and the purest faith which human
aature is capable of manifesting. I, for one man, found my own
dream hi the words of the Prince. I have not remained un-
married from a selfish idea of independence or from a want of
reverence for woman. Because I hold her so high, because I
seek to set her side by side with me in love and duty and con-
fidence, I cannot profane her and myself by an imperfect union.
I do not understand love without the most absolute mutual
knowledge, and a trust so complete that there can be no ques-
tion of rights on either side. Where that is given, man will
never withhold, nor will woman demand, what she should or
should not possess. That is my dream of marriage, and it is
not a dream too high for attainment in this life !"
The sight of Hannah Thurston's face compelled him to
pause. She was deadly pale, and trembled visibly. The mo-
ment he ceased speaking, she rose from her seat, and, after
mechanically plucking some twigs of the berried bittersweet,
said : " It is time for me to return."
Woodbury had not intended to say so much, and was fear
tul, at first, that his impassioned manner had suggested the
secret he still determined to hide. In that case, she evidently
desired to escape its utterance, but he had a presentiment that
her agitation was owing to a different cause. Could it be
that he had awakened the memory of some experience of love
through which she had passed ? After the first jealous doubt
which this thought inspired, it presented itself to his mind **
A STORY OF AMERICAN tlPE. 377
A relief. The duty which pressed upon him would be more
lightly pei-formed; the test to which he must first subject
her would be surer of success.
As they threaded the embowered paths on their homeward
way, he said to her, gravely, but cheerfully : " You see, Misa
Thurston, your doubt of my sex has forced me to show myself
to you as I am, in one respect. But I will not regret the con
fession, unless you should think it intrusive."
" Believe me," she answered, " I know how to value it.
You have made me ashamed of my unbelief."
" And you have confirmed me in my belief. This is a sub-
ject which neither man nor woman can rightly interpret,
alone. Why should we never speak of that which is most
vital in our lives ? Here, indeed, we are governed by con-
ventional ideas, springing from a want of truth and purity.
But a man is always ennobled by allowing a noble woman to
look into his heart. Do you recollect my story about the
help Mrs. Blake gave me, under awkward circumstances,
before her marriage ?"
' " Perfectly. It was that story which made me wish to
know her. What an admirable woman she is !"
" Admirable, indeed !" Woodbury exclaimed. " That was
not the only, nor the best help she gave me. I learned from
her that women, when they are capable of friendship don't
misunderstand me, I should say the same thing of men are
the most devoted friends in the world. She is the only con-
soling figure in an episode of my life which had a great influ-
ence upon my fate. The story is long since at an end, but I
should like to tell it to you, some time."
" If you are willing to do so, I shall be glad to hear anothei
instance of Mrs. Blake's kindness."
" Not only that," Woodbury continued, " but still another
portion of my history. I will not press my confidence upon
you, but I shall be glad, very glad, if you will kindly consent
to receive it. Some things in my life suggest questions which
I have tried to answer, and cannot. I must have a woman'f
378 HANNAH THTJBSTON:
help. I know you are all truth and candor, and I am willing
to place my doubts in your hands."
He spoke earnestly and eagerly, walking by her side, but
with eyes fixed upon the ground. His words produced in
her a feeling of interest and curiosity, under which lurked a
singular reluctance. She was still unnerved by her former
agitation. " Why should you place such confidence in me ?"
ghe at length faltered. " You have other friends who deserve
it better."
" We cannot always explain our instincts," he answered.
1 I must tell you, and you alone. If I am to have help in
these doubts, it is you who can give it."
His words seized her and held her powerless. Her Quaker
blood still acknowledged the authority of those mysterious
impulses which are truer than reason, because they come from
a deeper source. He spoke with a conviction from which
there was no appeal, and the words of refusal vanished from
her lips and from her heart.
" Tell me, then," she said. " I will do my best. I hope I
may be able to help you."
He took her hand and held it a moment, with a warm pres-
sure. " God bless you !" was all he said.
They silently ururned up the road. On reaching the gate
of the cottage, he took leave of her, saying : " You will have
my story to-morrow." His face was earnest and troubled ;
it denoted the presence of a mystery, the character of which
she could not surmise.
On entering the cottage, she first went up-stairs to her own
room. She had a sensation of some strange expression having
come over her face, which must be banished from it before she
could meet her mother. She must have five minutes alone to
think upon what had passed, before she could temporarily put
it away from her mind. But her thoughts were an indistinct
chaos, through which only two palpable sensations crossed each
other as they moved to and fro one of unreasoning joy, one
of equally unreasoning terror. What either of them portend
A STORY OF AiiKKICAN L1FK. J7S
ed she could not guess. She only felt that there was no stable
point to which she could cling, but the very base of her being
seemed to shift as her thoughts pierced down to it.
Her eyes fell upon the volume of " The Princess," which lay
upon the little table beside her bed. She took it up with a
sudden desire to read again the closing scene, where the
heroine lays her masculine ambition in the hands of love. The
book opened of itself, at another page : the first words ar-
rested her eye and she read, involuntarily :
u Ask me no more : the moon may draw the sea,
The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape,
With fold on fold, of mountain and of cape,
But oh, too fond, when have I answered thee ?
Ask me no more.
"Ask me no more: what answer could I give?
I love not hollow cheek and fading eye,
Tet oh, my friend, I would not have thee die :
Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live ;
Ask me no more.
" Ask me no more : thy fate and mine are sealed.
I strove against the stream, and strove in vain :
Let the great river bear me to the main !
No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield
Ask me no more."
The weird, uncontrollable power which had taken possession
of her reached its climax. She threw down the book and
burst into tears.
HANNAH THUB8TOH I
CHAPTER XXX.
MB. WOODBUBY'S CONFESSION.
TOWABDS evening, on Saturday, Bute called al the cottage,
and after inquiring concerning the widow's condition, and
giving, in return, a most enthusiastic report of Carrie's ac-
complishments, he produced a package, with the remark :
" Here, Miss Hannah, 's a book that Mr. Max. give me for
you. He says you needn't be in a hurry to send any of 'em
back. He got a new lot from New York yisterday."
She laid it aside until night. It was late before her mother
slept and she could be certain of an hour, alone, and secure
from interruption. When at last all was quiet and the fire
was burning low on the hearth, and the little clock ticked like
a strong pulse of health, in mockery of the fading life in the
bosom of the dear invalid in the next room, she took the book
in her hands. She turned it over first and examined the paper
wrapping, as if that might suggest the nature of the unknown
contents; then slowly untied the string and unfolded the
paper. When the book appeared, she first looked at the back ;
it was Ware's " Zenobia" a work she had long desired to
possess. A thick letter slipped out from between the blank
'eavps and fell on her lap. On the envelope was her name
only " Hannah Thurston" in a clear, firm, masculine hand.
She laid the volume aside, broke the seal and read the letter
ihrough from beginning to end :
" DEA.R Miss THUKSTON : I know how much I have asked
ol you in begging permission to write, for your eye, the story
which follows. Therefore I have not allowed myself to stand
A STOEY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 881
shivering on the brink of a plunge which I have determined
to make, or to postpone it, from the fear that, the venture of
confidence which I now send out will come to shipwreck
Since I have learned to appreciate the truth and nobleness of
your nature since I have dared to hope that you honor me
with a friendly regard most of all, since I find that the feel-
ings which I recognize as the most intimate and sacred portion
of myself seek expression in your presence, I am forced to
make you a participant in the knowledge of my life. Whether
it be that melancholy knowledge which a tender human charity
takes under its protecting wing and which thenceforward
sleeps calmly in some shadowy corner of memory, or that evil
knowledge which torments because it cannot be forgotten, 1
am not able to foresee. I will say nothing, in advance, to
secure a single feeling of sympathy or consideration which
your own nature would not spontaneously prompt you to give.
I know that in this step I may not be acting the part of a
friend ; but, whatever consequences may follow it, I entreat
you to believe that there is no trouble which I would not
voluntarily take upon myself, rather than inflict upon you a
moment's unnecessary pain.
" Have you ever, in some impartial scrutiny of self, dis-
covered to what extent your views of Woman, and your aspi-
rations in her behalf, were drawn from your own nature? Are
you not inclined to listen to your own voice as if it were the
collective voice of your sex ? If so, you may to some extent,
accept me as an interpretation of Man. I am neither better
nor worse than the general average of men. My principal ad-
vantages are, that I was most carefully and judiciously
educated, and that my opportunities of knowing mankind have
been greater than is usual. A conscientious study of human
nat,ure ought to be the basis of all theories of reform. I think
you will agree with me, thus far ; and therefore, however my
present confession may change your future relations towards
me, I shall have, at least, the partial consolation of knowing
that I have added something to your knowledge.
382 HANNAH THUESTOSr:
" Let me ada only this, before I commence my nan-alive
that it treats entirely of the occurrences of my life, which have
Drought me near to woman through my emotions. It is mj
experience of the sex, so far as that experience has taken a
deeper hold on my heart. You are not so cold and unsympa-
thetic as to repel the subject. The instinct which has led me
to choose you as the recipient of my confidence cannot ba
false. That same instinct tells me that I shall neither withhold
nor seek to extenuate whatever directly concerns myself. I
dare not do either.
" My nature was once not so calm and self-subdned as it
may seem to you now. As a youth I was ardent, impetuous,
and easily controlled by my feelings. In the heart of almost
any boy, from seventeen to twenty, there is a train laid, and
waiting for the match. As I approached the latter age, mine
was kindled by a girl two years younger than myself, the
daughter of a friend of my father. I suppose all early passions
have very much the same character : they are intense, absorb-
ing, unreasoning, but generally shallow, not from want- of sin-
cerity but from want of development. The mutual attachment
necessarily showed itself, and was tacitly permitted, but with-
out any express engagement. I had never surprised her with
any sudden declaration of love : our relation had gradually
grown into existence, and We were both so happy therein that
we did not need to question and discuss our feelings. In fact,
we were rarely sufficiently alone to have allowed of such con-
fidences ; but we sought each other in society or in our re-
spective family circles and created for ourselves a half-privacy
in the presence of others. Nothing seemed more certain to
either of us than that our fates were already united, for we
accepted the tolerance of our attachment as a sanction of its
future seal upon our lives.
" After my father's failure and death, however, I discovered,
with bitterness of heart, that it was not alone my pecuniary
prospects which had changed. Her father, a shrewd, hard
man of business, was one of the very few who prospered in a
A STOKY OF AMEKICA3J LIFE. 883
season of general ruin who perhaps foresaw the crash and
prepared himself to take advantage of the splendri >pportuni-
ties which it offered. His wealth was doubled, probably
trebled, in a year : he won advantages which compelled the
most exclusive circles to receive him, and his family dropped
their old associations as fast as they familiarized themselves
with the new. I saw this change, at first, without the slightest
tnisgh ing : my faith in human nature was warm and fresh,
and the satisfied bliss of my affections disposed me to judge
all men kindly. I only refrained from asking the father's as-
sistance in my straits, from a feeling of delicacy, not because
I had any suspicion that it would not be given. Little by
little, however, the conviction forced itself upon my mind that
I was no longer a welcome visitor at the hcmse : I was dropped
from the list of guests invited to dinners and entertainments,
and my reception became cold and constrained. From the
sadness and uneasiness on the face of my beloved, I saw that
she was suffering for my sake, and on questioning her she did
not deny that she had been urged to give me up. She assured
me, nevertheless, of her own constancy, and exhorted me to
have patience until my prospects should improve.
"It was at this juncture that Mtss Remington (Mrs. Blake,
you will remember) became a comforting angel to both of us.
She had remarked our attachment from its first stage, and with
her profound scorn of the pretensions of wealth, she deter-
mined to assist the course of true love. We met, as if b\
accident, at her father's house, and she generally contrived that
we should have a few minutes alone. Thus, several months
passed away. My position had not advanced, because 1 had
every thing to learn when I first took it, but I began to havr
more confidence in myself, and remained cheerful and hopeful.
I was not disturbed by the fact that my beloved sometimes
failed to keep her appointments, but I could not help remark-
ing, now, that when she did appear, she seemed ill at ease and
itrove to make the interviews as short as possible.
"There was something in ILISS Remington's manner, also,
384 HANNAH TStJRSTON:
which 1 could not understand. I missed the frank, hearty
sympathy with faithful and persecuted love, which she had
given me. A restless anxiety, pointing to one thing or
another, but never towards the truth, took possession of me.
One day on making my pre-arranged call, I found Miss Rcm
mgton alone. Her face was grave and sad. She saw my look
if disappointment : she allowed me to walk impatiently up and
clown the room three or four times, then she arose and seized
me by both hands. 'Am I mistaken in you?' she asked:
' Are you yet a man ?' * I am trying to prove it,' I answered.
'Then,' she said, 'prove it to me. If you were to have a
tooth drawn, would you turn back a dozen times from
the dentist's door and bear the ache a day longer, or would
you go in at once and have it out?' I sat down, chilled to
the heart, and said, desperately : ' I am ready for the opera-
tion !' She smiled, but there were tears of pity in her eyes.
She told me as kindly and tenderly as possible, all she had
learned : that the girl who possessed my unquestioning faith
was unworthy of the gift: that the splendors of the new circle
into which she had ascended had become indispensable to her
that her attachment to me was now a simple embarrassment:
that her beauty had attracted wealthy admirers, one of whom,
a shallow-brained egotist, was reported to be especially favored
by her, and that any hope I might have of her constancy
to me must be uprooted as a delusion.
" I tried to reject this revelation, but the evidence was
too clear to be discredited. Nevertheless, I insisted on seeing
the girl once more, and Miss Remington brought about the
interview. I was too deeply disappointed to be indignant:
she showed a restless impatience to be gone, as if some rem-
nant of conscience still spoke in her heart. I told her, sadly,
that I saw she was changed. If her attachment for me had
faded, as I feared, I would not despotically press mine upon
her, but would release her from the mockery of a duty which
her heart no longer acknowledged. I expected a penitent
confession of the truth, in return, and was therefore wholly
A STOBY OP AMEB1CAX LIFE. 385
unprepared for the angry reproaches she heaped upon me.
* Very fine !' she cried ; ' I always thought there was no m*
picion where there was love ! I am to be accused of false-
hood, from a jealous whim. It's very easy for you to give up an
attachment that died out long ago !' But I will not repeat
her expressions further. I should never have comprehended
them without Miss Remington's assistance. She was vexed
that I should have discovered her want of faith and given her
back her freedom : she should have been the first to break the
bonds. I laughed, in bitterness of heart, at her words ; 1
could give her no other answer.
" The shock my affections received was deeper than I cared
to show. It was renewed, when, three months afterwards,
the faithless girl married the rich fool whom she had preferred
to me. I should have become moody and cynical but for the
admirable tact with which Miss Remington, in her perfect
friendship, softened the blow. Many persons suppose that a
pure and exalted relation of this kind cannot exist between
man and woman, without growing into love in other words,
that friendship seeks its fulfilment in the same sex and love
in the opposite. I do not agree with this view. The thought
of loving Julia Remington never entered my mind, and she
would have considered me as wanting in sanity if I had inti-
mated such a thing, but there was a happy and perfect confi-
dence between us, which was my chief support in those days
of misery.
" I accepted, eagerly, the proposition to become the Calcutta
agent of the mercantile house in which I was employed. The
shadow of my disappointment still hung over me, and there
were now but few associations of my life in New York to
make the parting difficult. I went, and in the excitement of
new scenes, in the absorBing duties of my new situation, in
the mo r e masculine strength that came with maturity, I grad-
ually forgot the blow which had been struck or, if I did not
forget, the sight of the scar no longer recalled the pain of the
wound. Nevertheless, it had made me suspicious and fearful.
886 HANNAH THUKSTON:
I questioned every rising inclination of my hear!, and sup-
pressed the whispers of incipient affection, determined that
no woman should ever again deceive me as the first had done.
The years glided away, one by one ; I had slowly acquired the
habit of self-control, on which I relied as a natural and suffi-
cient guard for my heart, and the longing for woman's partner-
ship in life, which no man can ever wholly suppress, again began
to make itself heard. I did not expect a recurrence of the
passion of youth. I knew that I had changed, and that love,
therefore, must come to me in a different form. I remembered
what I heard at home, as a boy, that when the original forest
is cleared away, a new forest of different trees is developed
from the naked soil. But I still suspected that there must be
a family likeness in the growth, and that I should recognize its
sprouting germs.
" Between five and six years ago, it was necessary that 1
should visit Europe, in the interest of the house. I was ab-
sent from India nearly a year, and during that time made my
first acquaintance with Switzerland, the memory of which is
now indissolubly connected, in my mind, with that song which
I have heard you sing. But it is not of this that I would
speak. I find myself shrinking from the new revelation which
must be made. The story is not one of guilt not even of
serious blame, in the eyes of the world. If it were necessary
I could tell it to any man, without reluctance for my own sake
Men, in certain respects, have broader and truer views of life
than women ; they are more tender in their judgment, more
guarded in their condemnation. I am not justifying myself,
in advance, for I can acquit myself of any intentional wrong,
I only feel that the venture, embodied in my confession, is about
to be sent forth either to pitying gales that shall waft it safely
back to me, or to storms in which it shall go down. Recollect,
dear Miss Thurston, that whatever of strength I may posses*
you have seen. I am now about to show you, voluntarily, my
weakness.
" Among the passengers on board the steamer by which 1
A I/TORY 0^ AMERICAN LIFE. 887
leturned to India, there was a lady who had been recom-
mended to my care by some mutual acquaintance in England.
She was the wife of a physician in the Company's Service who
was sta'ioned at Benares, and who had sent her home with
her chil Iren a year and a half before. The latter were loft in
England, while she returned to share the exile of her husband
until ho should be entitled to a pension. She was a thoroughly
refined and cultivated woman, of almost my own age, and
shrank from contact with the young cubs of cadets and the o*
tentatio us indigo-planters, with their beer-drinking wives, whc
were almost the only other passengers. We were thus thrown
continually together, and the isolation of ocean-life contributed
to hasten our intimacy. Little by little that intimacy grew
deep, tender, and powerful. I told her the humiliating stor>
of my early love which you have just read, and she described
to me, with tearful reluctance, the unhappiness of her married
life. Her husband had gone to England eight years before, on
leave of absence, on purpose to n^arry. She had been found
to answer his requirements, and ignorant of life as she was at
that time, ignorant of her own heart, had been hurried into
the marriage by her own family. Her father was in moderate
circumstances, and he had many daughters to provide with
husbands ; this was too good a chance to let slip, and, as it
was known that she had no other attachment, her hesitatioc
was peremptorily overruled. She discovered, too late, that
there was not only no point of sympathy between her husband
and herself, but an absolute repulsion. He was bold and
steady-handed as a surgeon, and had performed some daring
operations which had distinguished him in his profession ; bvrt
he u as hard, selfish, and tyrannical in his domestic relations
and his unfortunate wife could only look forward with drea<?
tc the continual companionship which was her doom.
" I had been sure of recognizing any symptom of returning
love in my heart but 1 was mistaken. It took the form of
pity, and so lulled my suspicions to sleep that my power of
will was drugo-ed before I knew it. Her own heart was not
888 HANNAH
more merciful towards her. Poor womau ! if she had evei
Ireamed of love the dream had been forgotten. She was ig-
norant of the fatal spell which had come upon us, and I did
not detect my own passion until its reflection was throwt
back to me from her innocent face. When I had discovered
the truth, it was too late too late, I mean, for her happiness,
aot too late for the honor of both our lives. I could not ex
plain to her a danger which she did not suspect, nor could I
embitter, by an enforced coldness, her few remaining happy
days of our voyage. With a horrible fascination, I saw her
drawing nearer and nearer the brink of knowledge, and my
lips were sealed, that only could have uttered the warning cry,
" Again I was called upon to softer, but in a way I had
never anticipated. The grief of betrayed love is tame, beside
the despair of forbidden love. This new experience showed
me how light was the load which I had already borne. On
the one side, two hearts that recognized each other and would
have been faithful to the end of time ; on the other, a mon-
strous bond, which had only the sanction of human laws. I
rebelled, in my very soul, against the mockery of that legal
marriage, which is the basis of social virtue, forgetting that
Good must voluntarily bind itself in order that Evil may not
go free. The boundless tenderness towards her which had
suddenly revealed itself must be stifled. I could not even
press her hand warmly, lest some unguarded pulse should be-
tray the secret ; I scarcely dared look in her eyes, lest mine
might stab her with the sharpness of my love and my sorrow
in the same glance.
" It was all in vain. Some glance, some word, or touch cf
hand, on either side, did come, and the thin disguise was
torn away forever. Then we spoke, for the 'consolation of
ipeech seemed less guilty than the agony of silence. In the
moonless nights of the Indian Ocean we walked the deck with
hands secretly clasped, with silent tears on our cheeks, with
a pang hi our souls only softened by the knowledge that it
was mutual. Neither of us, I think, then thought of disputing
*. &TORY OF MIKTITCAN' LIFE. 889
o&/ fate. But as the voyage drew near its end, I was haunt-
ed by wild fancies of escape. I could not subdue my nature
to forego a fulfilment that seemed possible. We might find
a refuge,! thought, in Java, or Celebes, or some of the Indian
Isles, and once beyond the reach of pursuit what was the rest
of the world to us ? What was wealth, or name, or station ?
they were hollow sounds to us now, they were selfish cheats,
always. In the perverted logic of passion all was clear and
fair.
*' This idea so grew upon me that I was base enough to
propose it to her I who should have given reverence to that
gnorance of the heart which made her love doubly sacred,
strove to turn it into the instrument of her ruin ! She heard
me, in fear, not in indignation. ' Do not tempt me !' she
cried, with a pitiful supplication ; ' think of my children, and
help me to stand up against my own heart !' Thank God I
was not deaf to that cry of weakness ; I was armed to meet
resistance, but I was powerless against her own despairing
fear of surrender. Thank God, I overcame the relentless selfish-
ness of my sex I She took from my lips, that night, the only
kiss I ever gave her the kiss of repentance, not of triumph
It left no stain 011 the purity of her marriage vow. That was
our true parting from each other. There were still two days
of our voyage left, but we looked at each other as if through
the bars of opposite prisons, with a double wall between. Our
renunciation was complete, and any further words would have
been an unnecessary pang. We had a melancholy pleasure in
still being near each other, in walking side by side, in the
brrnal touch of hands that dared not clasp and be clasped,
This poor consolation soon ceased. The husband was waiting
for her at Calcutta, and I purposely kept my state-room when
we arrived, in order that I might not see him. I was not yet
eure of myself.
"She went to Benares, and afterwards to Meerut, and I
never saw her again. In a little more thar a year I heard she
was dead : ' the fever of the country,' they said. I was glad
300 nAiorAH THURSTON:
of it death was better for her than her life had been now
at least, when that life had become a perpetual infidelity to hei
beart. Death purified the memory of my passion, and gave
me, perhaps, a sweeter resignation than if she had first yielded
to my madness. Sad and hopeless as was this episode of my
life, it contained an element of comfort, and restored thr
balance which my first disappointment had destroyed. My
grief for her was gentle, tender and consoling, and I never
turned aside from its approaches. It has now withdrawn into
the past, but its influence still remains, in this that the desire
for that fulfilment of passion, of which life has thus far cheated
me, has not grown cold in my heart.
" There are some natures which resemble those plants that
die after a single blossoming natures in which one passion
seems to exhaust the capacities for affection. I am not one of
them, yet I know that I possess the virtue of fidelity. I know
that I still wait for the fortune that shall enable me to manifest
it. Do you, as a woman, judge me unworthy to expect that for-
tune ? You are now acquainted with my history ; try me by
the sacred instincts of your own nature, and according to them,
pardon or condemn me. I have revealed to you my dream of
the true marriage that is possible a dream that prevents me fc i4
from stooping to a union not hallowed by perfect love and
faith. Have I forfeited the right to indulge this dream longer ?
Would I be guilty of treason towards the virgin confidence of
some noble woman whom God may yet send me, in offering
her a heart which is not fresh in its knowledge, though fresh
in its immortal desires ? I pray you to answer me these ques-
tions ? Do not blame your own truth and nobility of nature,
iehich have brought you this task. Blame, if you please, my
selfishness in taking advantage of them.
" I have now told you all I meant to confess, and might here
close. But one thought occurs to me, suggested by the sud-
den recollection of the reform to which you have devoted
yourself. I fear that all reformers are too much disposed to
cueasure the actions and outward habits of the human race,
A STOKY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 39\
without examining the hidden causes of those actions. Ther
is some basis in our nature for all general Customs, both of
body and mind. The mutual relation of man and woman, in
Society, is determined not by a conscious exercise of tyranny
on the one side, or subjection on the other. Each sex has its
peculiar mental and moral laws, the differences between which
are perhaps too subtle and indefinable to be distinctly drawn,
but they are as palpable in life as the white and red which
neighboring roses draw from the self-same soil. When we
have differed in regard to Woman, I have meant to speak sin-
cerely and earnestly, out of the knowledge gained by an ur-
fortunate experience, which, nevertheless, has not touched the
honor and reverence in which I hold the sex. I ask you to
remember this, in case the confidence I have forced upon you
should hereafter set a gulf between us.
" I have deprived myself of the right to make any request,
but whatever your judgment may be, will you let me hear it
from your own lips ? Will you allow me to see you once
more ? I write to you now, not because I should shrink from
speaking the same words, but because a history like mine is
not always easily or clearly told, and I wish your mind to be
uninfluenced by the sympathy which a living voice might
inspire.
" On Tuesday next you will be free to take your accustomed
walk. May I be your companion again, beside the stream ?
But, no : do not write : you will find me there if you consent
to see me. If you do not come, I shall expect the written evi-
dence, if not,of your continued respect, at least of your forgive
ness. But, in any case, think of me always as one man \*ha
having known you, will never cease to honor Woman.
" Your friend,
"MAXWELL WOODBUET."
f JAJTtfAH THUB8TON .'
CHAPTER XXXL
TBT WHICH THE STRONG-MINDED WOMAN BECOMES WKAJL.
IT did not require the sound of a living voice to inspire
Hannah Thurston with sympathy for the story which she had
just read. Never before had any man so freely revealed to
her the sanctities of his experience of women. Completely
absorbed in the recital, she gave herself up to the first strong
impressions of alternate indignation and pity, without reflect-
ing upon the deeper significance of the letter. "Woodbury's
second episode of passion at first conflicted harshly with the
pure ideal in her own mind ; the shock was perhaps greater
to her than the confession of actual guilt would have been to
a woman better acquainted with the world. Having grown
up in the chaste atmosphere of her sect, and that subdued life
of the emotions which the seclusion of the country creates, it
startled her to contemplate a love forbidden by the world, yet
justifying itself to the heart. Nevertheless, the profound pity
which came upon her as she read took away from her the
power of condemnation. The wrong, she felt, was not so much
in the love which had unsuspectedly mastered both, as in the
impulse to indulge rather than suppress it; but* having been
BUJ (pressed passion having been purified by self-abnegation
and by death, she could not withhold a tender human eharity
even for this feature of the confession.
Woodbury's questions, however, referred to the future, no
iess than to the past. They hinted at the possibility of a ne\v
love visiting his heart. The desire for it, he confessed, had not
grown cold. Deceit and fate had not mastered, in him, th
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 393
immortal yearning: was be unworthy to receive it? "Try
me," he had written, " by the sacred instincts of your owu
nature, and according to them pardon or condemn me." Sho
had already pardoned. Perhaps, had she read the same words
coming from a stranger, or as an incident of a romance, she
would have paused and deliberated; her natural severty
Would have been slow to relax ; but knowing Woodbury as
he had latterly learned to know him, in his frankness, his
manly firmness and justice, his noble consideration for herself
her heart did not delay the answer to his questions. He had
put her to shame by voluntarily revealing his weakness, while
she had determined that she would never allow him to dis
cover her own.
Little by little, however, after it became clear thai her sym-
pathy and her charity were justifiable, the deeper questions
which lay hidden beneath the ostensible purpose of his lettei
crept to the surface. In her ignorance of the coming confes-
sion, she had not asked herself, in advance, why it should have
been made; she supposed it would be its own explanation.
The reason he had given was not in itself sufficient, but pre-
supposed something more important which he had not ex-
pressed. No man makes such a confidence from a mere feeling
of curiosity. Simultaneously with this question came another
why should he fancy that his act might possibly set a gulf
between them ? Was it simply the sensitiveness of a nature
which would feel itself profaned by having its secrets misun-
derstood ? No ; a heart thus sensitive would prefer the secu-
rity of silence. Was he conscious of a dawning love, and.
doubtful of himself, did he ask for a woman's truer interpre-
tation of his capacity to give and keep faith ? " It is cruel in
him to ask me," she said to herself; " does he think my heart
is insensible as marble, that I should probe it with thoughts,
every one of which inflicts a wound? Why does he not
send his confession at ono3 to her f It is she who should hear
it, not I ! He is already guilty of treason to her, in asking
the question of me /"
804 HANNAH THURSTON:
She put the letter suddenly on the table, and half tow
from her chair, in the excitement of the thought. Then, as it
struck by a stunning blow, she dropped back again. Her face
grew cold and deadly pale, and her arms fell nerveless at her
sides. Her eyes closed, and her breath came in long, labored
sighs After a few minutes she sat up, placed her elbow OD
the table and rested her forehead on her hand. " I am grow-
ing idiotic," she whispered, with an attempt to smile ; " mj
brain is giving way it is only a woman's brain."
The fire had long been extinct. The room was cold, and a
chill crept over her. She rose, secured the letter and the
book, and went to bed. As the balmy warmth stole over her
frame, it seemed to soften and thaw the painful constriction
of her heart, and she wept herself into a sad quiet. " Oh, if
it should be so," she said, "I must henceforth be doubly
wretched ! What shall I do ? I cannot give up the truths
to which I have devoted my life, and they now stand between
my heart and the heart of the noblest man I have ever known,
Yes : my pride is broken at last, and I will confess to myself
how much I honor and esteem him not love but even there
I am no longer secure. We were so far apart how could I
dream of danger ? But I recognize it now, too late for him
almost too late for me!"
Then, again, she doubted every thing. The knowledge had
come too swiftly and suddenly to be accepted at once. He
could not love her ; it was preposterous. Until a few days
ago he had thought her cold and severe : now, he acknowl-
edged her to be true, and his letter simply appealed to that
truth, unsuspicious of the secret slumbering in her heart. He
had spoken of the possibility of a pure and exalted friendship
between the sexes, such as already existed between himself
and Mrs. Blake : perhaps he aimed at nothing more, in this
instance. Somehow, the thought was not so consoling as it
ought properly to have been, and the next moment the skilful
explanation which she had built up tumbled into ruins.
She slept but little, that night, and all the next day went
JL STOKY OF AMEEICAN LIFE. 89*
about her duties as if in a dream. She knew that her mother's
eye sometimes rested uneasily on her pale face, and the con-
fession of her trouble more than once rose to her tongue, but
she resolutely determined to postpone it until the dreaded
crisis was past. She would not agitate the invalid with her
confused apprehensions, all of which, moreover, might prove
themselves to have been needless. With every fresh conflict
in her mind her judgment seemed to become more unsteady.
The thought of Woodbury's love, having once revealed itself
to her, would not be banished, and every time it returned, il
seemed to bring a gentler and tenderer feeling for him into her
heart. On the other hand her dreams of a career devoted to
the cause of Woman ranged themselves before her mental
vision, in an attitude of desperate resistance. " Now is the
test !" they seemed to say : " vindicate your sex, or yield to
the weakness of your heart, and add to its reproach I"
When Monday came, it brought no cessation of the struggle,
but she had recovered something of her usual self-control. Sht
had put aside, temporarily, the consideration of her doubts ;
the deeper she penetrated into the labyrinth, the more she
became entangled, and she made up her mind to wait, with as
much calmness as she could command, for the approaching
solution. The forms of terror, of longing, of defence and of
submission continually made their presence felt by turns, or
chaotically together, but the only distinct sensation she per-
mitted herself to acknowledge was this : that if her forebodings
were true, the severest trial of her life awaited her. Hei
pride forbade her to shrink from the trial, yet every hoiu
that brought her nearer to it increased her dread of the meet
Ing.
Her mother's strength was failing rapidly, and on this da)
she required Hannah's constant attendance. When, at last,
the latter was relieved for the night, her fatigue, combined
with tiie wakeful torment of the t\vo preceding nights, com-
pletely overpowered her and she slumbered fast and heavily
until morning. Her first waking thought was " The day il
396 HANNAH THURSTON I
come, and I am not prepared to meet him." The morning
was dull and windless, and as she looked upon the valley from
her window, a thick blue film enveloped the distant woods, the
dark pines and brown oaks mingling with it indistinctly, while
the golden and orange tints of the maples shone through. Hei
physical mood corresponded with the day. The forces of hei
spirit were sluggish and "apathetic, and she felt that the resist-
ance which, in the contingency she dreaded, must be made,
would be obstinately passive, rather than active and self-con-
tamed. A sense of inexpressible weariness stole over her.
Oh, she thought, if she only could be spared the trial ! Yet,
how easily it might be avoided ! She needed only to omit her
accustomed walk : she could write to him, afterwards, and
honor his confidence as it deserved. But an instinct told her
that this would only postpone the avowal, not avert it. If she
was wrong, she had nothing to fear ; if she was right, it would
be cowardly, and unjust to him, to delay the answer she must
give.
Her mother had slightly rallied, and when Mrs. Styles
arrived, as usual, early in the afternoon, the invalid could be
safely left in her charge. Nevertheless, Hannah, after having
put on her bonnet and shawl, lingered in the room, with a last,
anxious hope that something might happen which would give
her a pretext to remain.
" Child, isn't thee going ?" the widow finally asked.
" Mother, perhaps I had better stay with thee this after-
noon ?" was the hesitating answer.
" Indeed, thee shall not do any such thing ! Thee's not been
thyself for the last two days, and I know thee always comes
back from thy walks fresher and better. Bring me a handful
.if gentians, won't thee ?"
" Yes, mother." She stooped and kissed the old woman's
forehead, and then left the house.
The sky was still heavy and gray, and there was an oppres-
live warmth in the air. Crickets chirped loud among the dying
weeds along the garden-palings, and cro"ws cawed hoarsely
A 8TOBY OF AMERICAN LLFE. 897
from the tops of the elms. The road was deserted, as far aa
she could see, but the sound of fanners calling to their oxeu
came distinctly across the valley from the fields on the eastern
hill. Nature seemed to lie benumbed, in drowsy half-con-
sciousness of her being, as if under some narcotic influence.
She walked slowly forward, striving to subdue the anxious
beating of her heart. At the junction of the highways, she
stole a glance down the Anacreon road : nobody was to be
seen. Down the other : a farm-wagon was on its way home
from Ptolemy that was all. To the first throb of relief suc-
ceeded a feeling of disappointment. The walk through the
meadow-thickets would be more lonely than ever, remember-
ing the last time she had seen them. As she looked towards
their dark-green mounds, drifted over with the downy tuftt
of the seeded clematis, a figure suddenly emerged from the
nearest path and hastened towards her across the meadow !
He let down the bars for her entrance and stood waiting
for her. His brown eyes shone with a still, happy light, and
his face brightened as if struck by a wandering sunbeam. He
looked so frank and kind so cheered by her coming so un-
embarrassed by the knowledge of the confession he had made,
that the wild beating of her heart was partially soothed, and
she grew calmer in his presence.
" Thank you !" he said, as he took her hand, both in greeting
and to assist her over the fallen rails. When he had put them
up, and regained her side, he spoke again : " Shall we not go
on to that lovely nook of yours beside the creek? I have
taken a great fancy to the spot ; I have recalled it to mjf
memory a thousand times since then."
"Yes, if you wish it," she answered.
As they threaded the tangled paths, he spoke cheerfully
and pleasantly, drawing her into talk of the autumnal plants,
of the wayward rapids and eddies of the stream, of all sights
and sounds around them. A balmy quiet, which she mistook
for strength, took possession of her heart. She reached the
secluded nook, with a feeling of timid expectancy, it is true.
S9fr HANNAH THURSTOX: .
but with scarcely a trace of her former overpowering di ead
There lay the log, as if awaiting them, and the stream gurgled
contentedly around the point, and the hills closed loflilj
through blue vapor, up the valley, like the entrance to ar
Alpine gorge.
As soon as they were seated, Woodbury spoke. " Can you
inswer my questions ?"
" You have made that easy for me," she replied, in a lo\*
voice. " It seems to me rather a question of character than
of experience. A man naturally false and inconstant might
have the same history to relate, but I am sure you ar3 true.
You should ask those questions of your own heart ; where
you are sure of giving fidelity, you would commit no treason
in bestowing attachment."
She dared not utter the other word in her mind.
" I was not mistaken in you !" he exclaimed. " You have
the one quality which I demand of every man or woman in
whom I confide ; you distinguish between what is true in
human nature and what is conventionally true. I must show
myself to you as I am, though the knowledge should give you
pain. The absolution of the sinner," he added, smiling, "is
already half-pronounced in his confession."
"Why should I be your confessor?" she asked. "The
knowledge of yourself which you have confided to me, thus
far, does not give me pain. It has not lowered you in my
esteem but I feel, nevertheless, that your confidence is a gift
which I have done nothing to deserve, and which I ought not
to accept unless unless I were able to make some return. If
I had answered your questions otherwise, I do not think it
would have convinced you, against your own feelings. With
four integrity of heart, you do not need the aid of a woman
whose experience of life is so much more limited than yours."
She spoke very slowly and deliberately, and the sentences
seemed to come with an effort. Woodbury saw that her
clear vision had pierced through his flimsy stratagem, and
guessed that she must necessarily suspect the truth. Still, he
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 398
drew back from the final venture upon' which so much de-
pended. He would first sound the depth of her suspicions.
" No man," he said, gently, " can be independent of woman's
judgment, without loss to himself. Her purer nature is a
better guide to him than his own clouded instincts. I should
not have attributed a different answer to your true self, but to
the severe ideas of duty which I imagined you to possess.
You were right to suppose that I had already answered for
myself, but can you not understand the joy of .hearing it thus
confirmed ? Can you not appreciate the happy knowledge
that one's heart has not been opened in vain ?"
" I can understand it, though I have had little experience of
such knowledge. But I had not supposed that you needed it,
Mr. Woodbury least of all from me. We seem t<> have had
so little in common
"Not so!" he interrupted. "Opinions, no matter how
powerfully they may operate to shape our lives, are external
circumstances, compared with the deep, original springs of
character. You and I have only differed on the outside, and
hence we first clashed when we came in contact ; but .now I
recognize in you a nature for which I have sought long and
wearily. I seek some answering recognition, and in my haste
have scarcely given you time to examine whether any features
in myself have grown familiar to you. I see now that I was
hasty : I should have waited until the first false impression
was removed."
The memory of Mrs. Waldo's reproach arose in Hannah
Thurston's mind. " Oh no, you mistake me!" she cried. "I
am no longer unjust to you. But you surpass me in magna-
nimity as you have already done in justice. You surprised
me by a sacred confidence which is generally accorded only to
a tried friend. I had given you no reason to suppose that I
was a friend : I had almost made myself an enemy."
"Let the Past be past : I know you now. My confidence
was not entirely magnanimous. It was a test."
"And I have stood it?" she faltered.
400 HANNAH THURSTON:
"Not yet," he answered, and his voice trembled into a
sweet and solemn strain, to which every nerve in her body
seemed to listen. " Not yet ! You must hear it now. I
questioned you, after you knew the history of my heart, .n
order that you might decide for yourself as well as me. Love
purifies itself at each return. My unfortunate experience hau
aot prevented me from loving again, and with a purity and in
tensity deeper than that of my early days, because the passion
was doubted and resisted instead of being received in my
heart as a coveted guest. I am beyond the delusions of youth,
but not beyond the wants of manhood. I described to you,
the other day, on this spot, my dream of marriage. It was
not an ideal picture. Hannah Thurston, I thought of you /"
The crisis had come, and she was not prepared to meet it.
As he paused, she pressed one hand upon her heart, as if it
might be controlled by physical means, and moved her lips^
but no sound came from them.
"I knew you could not have anticipated this," he continued;
"I should have allowed you time to test me, in return, but
when the knowledge of your womanly purity and gentleness
penetrated me, to the overthrow of all antagonism based on
shallow impressions, I parted with judgment and will. A
power stronger than myself drove me onward to the point I
have now reached the moment of time which must decide
your fate and mine."
She turned upon him with a wild, desperate energy in her
face and words. "Why did you come," she cried, "to drive
me to madness ? Was it not enough to undermine the foun-
dations of my faith, to crush me with the cold, destroying
knowledge you have gained in the world? My life was fixed,
before I knew you ; I was sure of myself and satisfied with
the work that was before me : but now I am sure of nothing.
You have assailed me until you have discovered my weakness,
and yr.u cruelly tear down every prop on which I try to lean!
If I could hate you I should regain my strength, but I cp.nno*
do that you know I cannot !"
A STORr OF AMERICAN LIFE. 40i
He did not misinterpret her excitement, which yielded more
than it assailed. " No, Hannah !" he said tenderly, " I would
give you strength, not take it from you the strength of my
love, and sympathy, and encouragement. I know how these
aims have taken hold upon you: they are built upon a basis
of earnest truth which I recognize, and though I diffci
with you as to the ends to be attained, we may both enlighten
each other, and mutual tenderness and mutual respect govern
our relations in this as in all else. Do not think that I would
make my love a fetter. I can trust to your nature working
itself into harmony with mine. If I find, through the dearer
knowledge of you, that I have misunderstood Woman, I will
atone for the error ; and I will ask nothing of you but that
which I know you will give the acknowledgment of the
deeper truth that is developed with the progress of life."
She trembled from head to foot. " Say no more," she mur-
mured, in a faint, hollow voice, " I cannot bear it. Oh, what
will become of me ? You are noble and generous I was
learning to look up to you and to accept your help, and now
you torture me !"
He was pitiless. He read her more truly than she read
herself, and he saw that the struggle must now be fought out
to its end. Her agitation gave him hope it was the surge
and swell of a rising tide of passion which she resisted with the
last exercise of a false strength. He must seem more cruel still,
though the conflict in her heart moved him to infinite pity.
His voice assumed a new power as he spoke again :
" Hannah," he said, " I must speak. Remember that I am
pleading for all the remaining years of my lifeand, it may
be, for yours. Here is no question of subjection ; I offer you
tho love that believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth
*L things. It is not for me to look irreverently into your
maiden heart : but, judging you, as woman, by myself, as man.
you must have dreamed of a moment like this. You must
have tried to imagine the face of the unknown beloved ; you
must have prefigured the holy confidence of love which would
402 HANNAH THUKSTOtf!
force you to give your fate into his hands; you must hav
drawn the blessed life, united with his, the community of in-
terest, of feeling, and of faith, the protecting support on his
side, the consoling tenderness on yours "
She seized his arm with the hand nearest him, and grasped
it convulsively. Her head dropped towards her breast and
her face was hidden from his view. He gently disengaged the
hand and held it in his own. But he would not be silent, in
obedience to her dumb signal : he steeled bis heart against her
pain, and went on :
" You have tried to banish this dream from your heart, but
you have tried in vain. You have turned away from the con-
templation of the lonely future, and cried aloud for its fulfil-
ment in the silence of your soul. By day and by night it has
clung to you, a torment, but too dear and beautiful to be re-
nounced "
He paused. She did not withdraw her hand from his,
but she was sobbing passionately. Still, her head was turned
away from him. Her strength was only broken, not sub-
dued.
" Remember," he said, " that nothing in our lives resembles
the picture which anticipates its coming. I am not the man
of your dreams. Such as I fancy them to be, no man on the
earth would be worthy to represent him. But I can give you
the tenderness, the faith, the support you have claimed from
him, in your heart. Do not reject them while a single voice
of your nature tells you that some portion of your ideal union
may be possible in us. The fate of two lives depends on your
answer : in this hour trust every thing to the true voice of your
heart. You say you cannot hate me ?"
She shook her head, without speaking. She was still sob
bing violently.
" I do not ask -you, in this moment, if you love me I can-
Dot stake my future on a venture which I feel to be perilous,
But I will ask you this : could you love me ?"
She made no sign : her hand lay in his, and her face wa
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 408
Dent towards her bosom. He took her other hand, and hold
ing them both, whispered : " Hannah, look at me."
She turned her head slowly, with a helpless submission, and
lifted her face. Her cheeks were wet 'with tears, and her
lovely dark-gray eyes, dimmed by the floods that had gushed
from them in spite of herself, met his gaze imploringly. The
trong soul of manhood met and conquered the woman in that
glance. He read his triumph, but veiled his own consciousness
of it curbed his triumphant happiness, lest she should take
alarm. Softly and gently, he stole one arm around her waist
and drew her to his breast. The violence of her agitation
gradually ceased ; then, lifting her head, she withdrew from
his clasp, and spoke, very softly and falteringly, with her eyes
fixed on the ground :
" Yes, Maxwell, it is as I have feared. I will not say that I
love you now, for my heart is disturbed. It is powerless to
act for me, in your presence. I have felt and struggled against
your power, but you have conquered me. If you love me, pity
me also, and make a gentle use of your triumph. Do not
bind me by any promise at present. Be satisfied with the
knowledge that has come to me that I have been afraid to
love you, because I foresaw how easy it would be. Do not
ask any thing more of me now. I can bear no more to-day.
My strength is gone, and I am weak as a child. Be mag
nauimous."
He drew her once more softly to his breast and kissed her
lips. There was no resistance, but a timid answering pressure.
He kissed her again, with the passionate clinging sweetness cf
a heart that seals an eternal claim. She tore herself loose from
him and cried with a fiery vehemence : " God will curse you
if vou deceive me now ! You have bound me to think of you
day and night, to recall your looks and words, to oh, Max-
well, to what have you not bound my heart ! r
" I would bind you to no more than I give," he answered.
" I ask no promise. Let us simply be free to find our way to
the full knowledge of each other. When you can trust your
404 HANNAH
life to me, I will take it in tender and reverent keeping. 1
trust mine to you now."
She did not venture to meet his eyes again, but she took his
outstretched hand. "He led her to the edge of the peninsula,
and they stood thus, side by side, while the liquid, tinkling
semitones of the water made a contented accompaniment to
the holy silence. In that silence the hearts of both were busy.
He "felt that though his nature had proved the stronger, she
was not yet completely won : she was like a bird bewildered
by capture, that sits tamely for a moment, afraid to try its
wings. He must complete by gentleness what he had begun
by power. She, at the moment, did not think of escape. She
only felt how hopeless would be the attempt, either to advance
or recede. She had lost the strong position in which she had
so long been intrenched, yet could not subdue her mind to the
inevitable surrender.
" I know that you are troubled," he said at last, and the
considerate tenderness of his voice fell like a balm upon her
heart, " but do not think that you alone have yielded to a
power which mocks human will. I spoke truly, when I said
that the approach of love, this time, had been met with doubt
and resistance in myself. I have first yielded, and thus knowl-
edge came to me while you were yet ignorant. From that
ignorance the consciousness of love cannot, perhaps, be born
at once. But I feel that the instinct which led me to seek
you, has not been false. I can now appreciate something of
your struggle, which is so much the more powerful than my
own as woman's stake in marriage is greater than man's. Let
us grant to each other an equally boundless trust, and in that
pure air all remaining doubt, or jealousy, or fear of compro-
mised rights, will die. Can you grant me this, much, Hannah 1
(t is all I ask now."
She had no strength to refuse. She trusted his manhood
already with her whole heart, though foreseeing what such
trust implied. "It is myself only, that I doubt, 1 ' she an-
swered.
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 405
*' Be kind to me," she added, after a pause, releasing her
hand from his clasp and half turning away : " Consider how I
have failed how I have been deceived in myself. Another
woman would have been justly proud and happy in my place.
for she would not have had the hopes of years to uproot, not
have had to answer to her heart the accusation of disloyalty to
humanity."
" We will let that accusation rest," he soothed her. " Do
not think that you have failed : you never seemed so strong to
me as now. There can be no question of conflicting power
between two equal hearts whom love unites in the same des-
tiny. The time will come when this apparent discord will ap-
pear to you as a ' harmony not understood.' But, until then,
I shall never say a word to you which shall not be meant to
solve doubt, and allay fear, and strengthen confidence."
" Let me go back, now, to my mother," she said. " Heaven
pardon me, I had almost forgotten her. She wanted me to
bring her some gentians. It is very late and she will be
alarmed."
He led her back through the tangled, briery paths. She
took his offered hand with a mechanical submission, but the
touch thrilled her through and through with a sweetness so
new and piercing, that she reproached herself at each return,
as if the sensation were forbidden. "Woodbury gathered for
Her a bunch of the lovely fringed gentian, with the short au-
tumn ferns, and the downy, fragrant silver of the life-everlast-
ing. They walked side by side, silently, down the meadow,
and slowly up the road to the widow's cottage.
" I will deliver the flowers myself," said he, as they reached
the gate, " Besides, is it not best that your mother should
know of what has passed ?"
She could not deny him. In the next moment they were in
the littU sitting-room. Mrs. Styles expected company to tea,
and took her leave as soon as they appeared.
M Mother, will thee see Mr. Woodbury?" said Hannah,
406 HANNAH THTJRSTOIT:
opening the door into the adjoining room, where the invalid
sat, comfortably propped up in her bed.
"Thee knows I am always glad to see him," came the
answer, in a faint voice.
They entered together, and Woodbury laid the flowers on
her bed. The old woman looked from one to another with a
glance which, by a sudden clairvoyance, saw the truth. A
new light came over her face. " Maxwell !" she cried ;
" Hannah !"
"Mother!" answered the daughter, sinking on her knees
and burying her face in the bed-clothes.
Tears gushed from the widow's eyes and rolled down her
hollow cheeks. " I see how it is," she said ; " I prayed that
it might happen. The Lord blesses me once more before I
die. Come here, Maxwell, and take a mother's blessing. I
give my dear daughter freely into thy hands."
Hannah heard the words. She felt that the bond, thna
consecrated by the blessing of her dying mother, dared not be
broken.
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 407
CHAPTER XXXH
DX WHICH AT.L RETREAT IS CUT OFF.
" COME back tomorrow, Maxwell," the Widow Thurston
bad said, as he took an affectionate leave of her ; " come back,
and let me hear what thee and Hannah have to say. I am too
weak now to talk any more. My life has been so little ac-
quainted with sudden visitations of joy, that this knowledge
takes hold of my strength. Thee may leave me too, Hannah;
I think I could sleep a little."
The latter carefully smoothed and arranged the pillows, and
left the invalid to repose. Woodbury was waiting for her, in
the door leading from the sitting-room to the hall. " I am
going home now," he said ; " can you give me a word of hope
and comfort on the way ? tell me that you trust me !"
"Oh, I do, I do !" she exclaimed ; " Do not mistake either
my agitation or my silence. I believe that if I could once be
in harmony with myself, what I have heard from your lips to-
day would make me happy. I am like my mother," she
added, with a melancholy smile, "lam more accustomed to
contempt than honor."
He led her into the hall and closed the door behind them.
Fie put one arm protectingly around her, and she felt herself
supported against the world. " Hereafter, Hannah," he whis-
pered, " no one can strike at you except through me. Good-
by until to-morrow !" He bent his head towards her face,
and their eyes met. His beamed with a softened fire, a dewy
tenderness and sweetness, before which her soul shivered and
tingk-d in warm throbs of bliss, so quick and sharp as to touch
the verge of pain. A Avonderiul, unknown fascination drew
408 HANNAH THUKSTOH:
her lips to his. She felt the passionate pressure ; her framt
trembled ; she heard the door open and close as in a dream,
and blindly felt her way to the staircase, where she sank upon
the lower step and buried her face in her hands.
She neither thought, nor strove to think. The kiss burned
on and on, and every throb of her pulses seemed to break in
starry radiations of light along her nerves. Dissolving ring!
of color and splendor formed and faded under her closed lids,
and the blood of a new life rustled in her ears, as if the spirits
of newly-opened flowers were whispering in the summer wind.
She was lapped in a spell too delicious to break an exquisite
drunkenness of her being, beside which all narcotics would
have been gross. External sounds appealed no more to her
senses ; the present, with its unfinished struggles, its torturing
doubts, its prophecies of coming sorrow, faded far away, and
her soul lay helpless and unresisting in the arms of a single
sensation.
All at once, a keen, excited voice, close at hand, called her
name. It summoned her to herself with a start which took
away her breath.
" My dear girl ! Good gracious, what's the matter !" ex-
claimed Mrs. Waldo, who stood before her. " I saw your
mother was asleep, and Pve been hunting you all over the
house. You were not asl ,>ep, too ?"
" I believe I was trying to think."
" Bless me, haven't you thought enough yet ? I should say,
from the look of your face, that you had seen a ghost no, it
must have been an angel ! Don't look so, my dear, or I shal
le afraid that you are going to die."
" If I were to die, it would make all things clear," Hannah
Thurston answered, with a strong effort of self-control ; " but
I must first learn to live. Do not be alarmed on my account.
I am troubled and anxious : I am not my old self."
"I don't wonder at it," rejoined Mrs. Waldo, tenderly
44 You must see the loss that is coming, as well as the rit
of us."
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 409
" Yes, I know that ray mother can never recover, and I begin,
already, to shrink from the parting, as if it were, close at hand."
" Oh, my dear," cried Mrs. Waldo, melting into tears, "don't
you see the truth yet? Don't you see that the parting u
close at hand ? I was afraid you did not know ; your mother,
T was sure, would not tell you ; but, putting myself in your
place, I did not think it right that you should be kept in igno
ranee. She is failing very fast."
Hannah Thurston grew very pale. Her friend led her
through the door, and out into the little garden in the rear of
the cottage. Some wind, far away to the west, had lifted
into a low arch the gray concave of cloud, and through this
arch the sinking sun poured an intense, angry, brassy light
over the tree-tops and along the hillside fields. They leaned
against the paling at the bottom of the garden, and looked
silently on the fiery landscape. Hannah was the first to speak.
" You are a good friend to me," she said ; " I thank you for
the knowledge. I knew the blow must come, but I hoped
it might be delayed a little longer. I must bear it with what
strength I may."
" God will help you, Hannah," said Mrs. Waldo, wiping
away her tears. " He measures the burden for the back that
is to bear it."
Woodbury walked home alone, without waiting, as usual,
for Bute and the buggy. He threw back his shoulders and in-
haled long draughts of the fresher evening air, with the relief
of u man who has performed a trying task. He had full confi-
dence in the completeness of his victory, yet he saw how nar-
rowly he had escaped defeat. Had his mind not been prp-
vioualy occupied with this Avoman had he not penetrated to
the secret of her nature had he not been bold enough to stake
his fortune on the inherent power of his manhood, he must
have failed to break down those ramparts of false pride which
she had built up around her heart. A man of shallower knowl-
edge would have endeavored to conquer by resistance would
have been stung by her fierce assertion of independence
18
410 HANNAH THURSTOtf
utterly mistaking the source from whence it sprang. Li him
it simply aroused a glorious sense of power, which he knew
how to curb to the needs of the moment. It thrilled him
with admiration, like the magnificent resistance of some wild
mare of the steppes, caught in the hunter's lasso. It betrayed
ai/ nnsur.pected capacity for passion which could satisfy the
cravings of his heart. This is no tame, insipid, feminuie crea-
ture, he thought ; but a full-blown woman, splendid in her
powers splendid in her faults, and unapproachable in that
truth and tenderness which would yet bring her nature into
harmony with his own.
A part of the power he had drawn from her seemed to be
absorbed into his own being. The rapid flow of his blood
lifted his feet and bore him with wingod steps down the valley.
His heart ovei'leaped the uncertainties yet to be solved, and
stood already, deep in the domestic future. After crossing
Hearing Brook, he left the road and struck across his own
meadows and fields in order to select a site, at once convenient
and picturesque, for the cottage which he must build for Bute.
Of course there could not be two households at Lakeside.
The next day made good the threat of the brassy sunset
It rained in wild and driving gusts, and the sky was filled with
tlie rifled gold of the forests. Woodbury paced his library
impatiently, unable to read or write, and finally became so
restless that he ordered dinner an hour before his accustomed
time, to Mrs. Carrie Wilson's great dismay. Bute was no less
astonished when Diamond and the buggy were demanded,
" Why, Mr. Max. !" he exclaimed ; " you're not goin' out suob
a day as this ? Can't I go for you ?"
" I have pressing business, Bute, that nobody can attend tc
but myself. Don't let your tea wait for me, Mrs. Wilson : 1
may be late."
Leaving the happy pair happy in the rain which kept
them ail day to each other to their wonder and their anxious
surmises, Woodbury drove through the wind, and rain, and
splashing mud, to the Widow Thurstou's cottage. Hannah
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 411
met him with an air of touching frankness and reliance, clasp
ing his hand with a tender firmness which atoned for th
silence of her lips. She looked pale and exhausted, but
a soft, rosy flush passed over her face and faded away.
"I will tell mother you have come," she said. The neit
moment she reappeared at the door of the sick-room, and
beckoned him to enter.
The widow was still in bed, and it was plainly to be seen
that she would never leave it again. The bouquet of gentian
and life-everlasting stood on a little table near her head. Her
prim Quaker cap was uncrumpled by the pillow, and a light
fawn-colored shawl enveloped her shoulders. She might have
been placed in the gallery of the meeting-house, among her
sister Friends, without a single fold being changed. Her thin
hands rested weakly on the coverlet, and her voice was
scarcely above a whisper, but the strong soul which had sus-
tained her life was yet clear in her eye.
The daughter placed a chair for Woodbury by the bedside.
He sat down and took the old woman's hand in both his own.
She looked at him with a gentle, affectionate, motherly benig-
nity, which made his eyes dim with the thought of his own
scarcely-remembered mother.
"Maxwell," she said at last, "thee sees my days on the
earth are not many. Thee will be honest with me, therefore,
and answer me out of thy heart. I have not had many oppor-
tunities of seeing thee, but thee had my confidence from the
first. Thee has had thy struggles with the world ; thee is old
enough to know thyself, and I will believe that thee hast
learned to know Hannah, truly. She is not like other girls :
she was always inclined to go her own way, but she hag nevei
failed in her duty to me, and I am sure she will not fail in her
duty as thy wife."
Hannah, sitting at the foot of the bed, started at these
words. She looked imploringly at her mother, but did not
peak.
" Yes, Hannah," continued the old woman, " I have no
*12 HANNAH THUKSTON:
fears f<,f thee, when thee once comes to understand thy lnu
place as a woman. Thee was always more like thy father than
like me. I see that it has not been easy for thee to give up
thy ideas of independence, but I am sure that thy husband
will he gentle and forbearing, so that thee will hardly feel the
yoke Will thee not, Maxwell?"
u I will," Woodbury replied. "I have told your daughter
that I impose no conditions upon our union. It was th
purity and truth of her nature which drew me almost against
my will, to love her. I have such entire faith in that, truth,
that I believe we shall gradually come into complete harmony,
not only in our feelings and aspirations, but even in our
external views of life. I am ready to sacrifice whatever
individual convictions may stand in the way of our mutual ap-
proach, and I only ask of Hannah that she will allow, not
resist, the natural progress of her heart in the knowledge of
itself."
" Thee hears what he says ?" said the old woman, turning
her eyes on her daughter. " Maxwell has answered the ques-
tion I intended to ask: he loves thee, Hannah, as thee
deserves to be loved. The thought of leaving thee alone in
the world was a cross which I could not bring my mind to
bear. The Lord has been merciful. He has led to thee the
only man into whose hands I can deliver thee, with the cer-
tainty that he will be thy stay and thy happiness when I am
gene. Tell me, my daughter, does thee answer his affection
in the same spirit ?"
"Mother," sobbed Hannah, "thee knows I would show
thee my heart if I could. Maxwell deserves all the honor and
gratitude I am capable of giving : he has been most noble and
just and tender towards me: I cannot reject him it is not in
my nature and yet don't think hard of me, mother it has
11 o <me so suddenly, it is so new and strange "
Here she paused and covered her face, unable to speak
further.
"It seems that I know thee better than I thought," said
A STOKY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 413
the widow, and something like a smile flitted over her wasted
features. "Thee needn't say any thing more: my mind is
at rest. Come nearer to me, here, and seat thyself at Max-
well's side. I have a serious concern upon me, and you mast
both bear with me while I tell it."
The daughter came and seated herself at the head of (lie
bed, beside Woodbury. The mother's right hand seemed to
feel for hers, and she gave it. The other found its way, &hf
knew not how, into his. The old woman looked at them both,
and the expression of peace and resignation left her eyes.
They were filled with a tender longing which she hesitated to
put into words. In place of the latter came tears, and then
her tongue was loosed.
"My children," she whispered, "it is best to be plain with
you. From day to day I expect to hear the Master's call. I
have done with the things of this life ; my work is ov<*r, and
now the night .cometh, when I shall rest. The thought came
to me in the silent watches, when I lifted up my soul to the
Lord and thanked Him that He had heard my prayer. I
thought, then, that nothing more was wanting; and, indeed,
it may be unreasonable of me to ask more. But what I ask
seems to be included in what has already happened. I know
the instability of earthly things, and I should like to see with
these eyes, the security of my daughter's fate. Maxwell, T
lost the little son who would have been so near thy age had he
lived. Will thee give me the right to call the?, ' son' in his
place ? Is thee so sure of thy heart that thee could give Han-
nah thy name now? It is a foolish wish of mine, I kno-v ; bat
if you love each other, children, you may be glad, in ihe
Doming time, that the poor old mother lived to see and to
bless your union !"
Woodbury was profoundly moved. He tenderly kissed the
wasted hand he held, and said, in a hushed, reverential voice :
"I am sure of my own heart. With your daughter's consent,
it shall be as you say."
" Mother, mother!" cried Hannah : " I cannot leave thee !''
414 HANNAH IHURSTON:
" Thee shall not, child. I would not ask it of thee. Max-
well knows what I mean : nothing shall be changed while
I live, but you will not be parted for long. Nay, perhaps,
I am selfish in this thing. Tell me, honestly, my children,
would it make your wedding sad, when it should be joy-
,fiil?"
" It will make it sacred," Woodbury answered.
" I wfll not ask too much of thee, Hannah," the widow con-
tinued. " What I wish would give me a feeling of comfort
and security ; but I know I ought to be satisfied without it. I
have had my own concerns on thy account ; I saw a thorny
path before thee if thee were obliged to walk through life
alqpe, and I feared thee would never willingly bend thy neck
to wear the pleasant yoke of a wife. If I knew that thy lot
was fixed, in truth ; if I could hear thee speak the words
which tell me that I have not lost a daughter but gained a
son, the last remaining bitterness would be taken from death,
and I would gladly arise and go to my Father !"
All remaining power of resistance was taken away from
Hannah Thurston. She had yielded so far that she could no
longer retreat with honor. Woodbury had taken, almost even
before he claimed it, the first plaoo in her thoughts, and though
she still scarcely confessed to herself that she loved him ag
her husband should be loved, yet her whole being was pene-
trated with the presentiment of coming love. If she still
feebly strove to beat back the rising tide, it was not from fear
of her inability to return the trust he gave, but rather a me-
chanical effort to retain the independence which she felt to be
gradually slipping from her grasp. Her mother's words
showed her that she, also, foreboded this struggle and doubted
its solution ; she had, alas ! given her cause to mistrust the
unexpected emotion. Towards men towards Woodbury,
especially she had showed herself hard and unjust in that
mother's eyes. Could she refuse to remove the unspoken
doubt by postponing a union, which, she acknowledged to her-
self, was destined to come ? Could she longer hold back her
A STOEY OF AMERICAN LIFfi. 415
entire faith from Woodbury, with his parting kiss of yesterday
Htill warm upon her lips ?
She leaned forward, and bent her head upon the old \vo
man's breast. " Mother," she said, in a scarcely audible voice,
** it shall be as thee wishes."
The widow tenderly stroked her dark-brown hair. " If I
Were not sure it was right, Hannah," she said, " I would gi\
thee back thy consent. Let it be soon, pray, for I see that
my sojourn with you is well-nigh its end."
"Let it be to-morrow, Hannah," Woodbury then said,
"livery thing shall be afterwards as it was before. I will not
take you from your mother's bedside, but you will simply give
me the right to offer, and her the right to receive, a son's help
and comfort."
It was so arranged. Only the persons most intimately con-
nected with both Waldos, Merryfields, Bute and Carrie-
were to be informed of the circumstances and invited to be
present. Mr. Waldo, of course, was to solemnize the union,
though the widow asked that the Quaker form of marriage
should first be repeated in her presence. She was exhausted
by the interview, and Woodbury soon took his leave, to give
the necessary announcements.
Hannah accompanied him to the dor, and when it closed
behind him, murmured to herself:
" I strove against the stream, and strove in vain
Let the great river bear me to the main 1"
The Waldos were alone in their little parlor alone, but
not lonely ; for they were one of those fortunate wedded paiis
who never tire of their own society. The appearance of
Woodbury, out of the wind and rain, was a welcome surprise,
and they both greeted him with hearty delight.
" Husband," cried Mrs. Waldo, " do put the poor horse into
our stable, beside Dobbin. Mr. Woodbury will not think ^f
going home until after tea."
The clergyman was half-way through the door before the
416 HANNAH THtJRSTON:
guest could grasp his arm. " Stay, if you please," he said ; " 1
have something to say, at once, to both of you."
His voice was so grave and earnest, that they turned
towards him with a sudden alarm. Something in his face
tranquil! zed while it perplexed them.
" I once promised you, Mrs. Waldo," he continued, " that
your husband should perform the marriage ceremony for me.
The time has come when I can fulfil my promise. I am to be
married to-morrow !"
The clergyman's lips receded so as to exhibit, not only all
of bis teeth, but also a considerable portion of the gums. His
wife's dark eyes expanded, her hands involuntarily came
together in a violent clasp, and her breath was suspended.
" I am to be married to-morrow," Woodbury repeated.
" to Hannah Thurston."
Mrs. Waldo dropped into the nearest chair. " It's a poor
joke," she said, at last, with a feeble attempt to laugh.; " and
I shouldn't have believed you could make it."
In a very few words he told them the truth. The next
moment, Mrs. Waldo sprang upon her feet, threw both arms
around him, and kissed him tempestuously. " I oan't help it,
husband !" she cried, giving way to a mild hysterical fit of
laughter and tears : " It's so rarely things happen as they
ought, in this world ! What a fool I've been, to think you
hated each other ! I shall never trust my eyes again, no, nor
my ears, nor my stupid brains. Til warrant Mrs. Blake was
a deal sharper than I have been ; see if she is surprised when
you send her word ! Oh, you dear people, how happy you
have made me I'd rather it should come so than that hus-
band should get a thousand converts, and build the biggest
church in Ptolemy !"
Mr. Waldo also was moved, in his peculiar fashion. He
cleared his throat as if about to commence a prayer, walked
tlK?e times to the door and back, squeezing Woodbury's
hand afresh at each return, and finally went to the window
and remarked : " It is very stormy to-day."
A STOBY OF AMERICAN LITE. 417
In proportion as the good people recovered from their
happy an-azement, Woodbury found it difficult-to tear himsell
away. They stormed him with questions about the rise and
progress of his attachment, which his sense of delicacy for-
bade him to answer. " It is enough," he said, " that we love
each other, and that we are to be married to-morrow."
As he turned his horse's head towards Ptolemy, a figure
wrapped in an old cloak and with a shapeless quilted hood
upon the head, appeared on the plank sidewalk hastening
in the direction of the widow's cottage. It was Mrs.
Waldo.
The Merryfields were also at home when he called. Their
life had, of late, been much more quiet and subdued than former-
ly, and hence they have almost vanished out of this history ;
but, from the friendly relation which they bore to Hannah
Thurston, they could not well be omitted from the morrow's
occasion. The news was unexpected, but did not seem to
astonish them greatly, as they were both persons of slow per-
ceptions, and had not particularly busied their minds about
either of the parties.
"I'm sure I'm very glad, as it were," said Mr. Merryfield.
" There are not many girls like Hannah Thurston, and she
deserves to be well provided for."
" Yes, it's a good thing for her," remarked his wife, with
a little touch of malice, which, however, was all upon the
surface; "but Women's Rights will be what they all? ay a
was, if their advocates give them up."
Darkness was setting down, and the rain fell in torrents, as
Woodbury reached Lakeside. Bute, who had been coming
to the door every five minutes for the last hour, had heard the
rattling of wheels through the storm, and the Irishman
was already summoned to take charge of the horse. In the
sitting-room it was snug, and bright, and cheerful. A wood-
fire blazed on the hearth, and Mrs. Carrie, with a silk handker-
chief tied under her chin, was dodging about the tea-table.
By the kindly glow in his heart to\vards these two happy
IS*
418 HANNAH THURSTOS":
creatures, Woodbury felt that bis cure tvas complete; theb
bliss no longer had power to disturb him.
" How pleasant it is here !" he said. " You really make the
Louse home-like, Mrs. Wilson."
Carrie's eyes sparkled and her cheeks reddened with de
ight. Bute thought : " He's had no unlucky business, after
all." But he was discreet enough to ask no questions.
After tea, Woodbury did not go into the library, as usual,
He drew a chair towards the fire, and for a while watched Mrs,
Wilson's fingers, as they rapidly plied the needles upon a pair
of winter socks for Bute. The latter sat on the other side ol
the fire, reading Dana's " Two Years before the Mast."
"Bute," said Woodbury, suddenly, "do you think we have
room for another, in the house ?"
To his surprise, Bute blushed up to the temples, and seemed
embarrassed how to answer. He looked stealthily at Carrie.
Woodbury smiled, and hastened to release him from his
error. " Because," said he, " you brought something to Lake-
side more contagious than your fever. I have caught it, and
now I am going to marry."
" Oh, Mr. Max., you don't mean it ! It's not Miss Amelia
Smith ?"
Woodbury burst into a laugh.
" How can you think of such a thing, Bute ?" exclaimed bis
wife. "There's only one woman in all Ptolemy worthy of
Mr. Woodbury, and yet I'm afraid it isn't her."
Who, Mrs. Wilson ?"
" You won't be offended, Sir, will you ? I mean Hannah
rhurston."
" You have guessed it !"
Carrie gave a little scream and dropped hef knitting. Bute
tried to laugh, but something caught in his throat, and in hil
stfo' ts to swallow it the water came into his eyes.
A BTORY OF AMERICAN MPB. 4 1
CHAPTER XXXTTT.
MARRIAGE, DEATH, GOSSIP, AND GOING HOMB
THE occasion which called the few friends together at the
cottage, the next morning, was sad and touching, as well as
joyful. At least, each one felt that the usual cheerful sympa-
thy with consummated love would be out of place, in circum-
stances so unusual and solemn. The widow felt that she was
robbing her daughter's marriage of that sunshine which of
right belonged, to it, but in this, as in all other important de-
cisions of life, she was guided by " the spirit." She perceived,
indeed, that Hannah had not yet reached the full consciousness
of her love that the fixed characteristics 'of her mind fought
continually against her heart, and would so fight while any
apparent freedom of will remained ; and, precisely for this rea-
son, the last exercise of maternal authority was justified to her
own soul. In the clairvoyance of approaching death she
looked far enough into the future to know that, without this
bond, her daughter's happiness was uncertain : with it, she
saw the struggling elements resolve themselves into harmony.
"Woodbury suspected the mother's doubt, though he did not
share it to the same extent. He believed that the fierce-
ness of the struggle was over. The chain was forged, and by
careful forbearance ancl tenderness it might be imperceptiblj
clasped. There were still questions to be settled, but ho had
already abdicated the right of control ; he had intrusted their
solution to the natural operation of time and love. He would
neither offer nor accept any express stipulations of rights, for
this one promise embraced them all. Her nature could only
be soothed to content in its ue\v destiny by the deeper know!-
420 HANNAH THURSTON:
edge which that destiny would bring, and therefore, the
mother's request was perhaps best for both. It only imposed
upon him a more guarded duty, a more watchful self-control,
in the newness of their relation to each other.
Mrs. Waldo, unable to sleep all night from the excitement
)t' her honest heart, was with Hannah Thurston early in the
norning. It was as well, no doubt, that the latter was allowed
10 time for solitary reflection, as the hour approached. Bj
ten o'clock the other friends, who had first driven to the Cim-
merian Parsonage, made their appearance in the little sitting-
room. Woodbury came in company with Mr. Waldo, followed
by Bute and Carrie. He was simply dressed in black, Avithout
the elaborate waistcoat and cravat of a bridegroom. But for
the cut of his coat collar, the Friends themselves would not
have found fault with his apparel. His face was calm and
serene : whatever emotion he felt did not appear on the
surface.
Mrs. Merryfield, in a lavender-colored silk, which made hei
sallow complexion appear worse than ever, occasionally raised
her handkerchief to her eyes, although there were no signs of
unusual moisture in them.
The door to the invalid's room was open, and the bed had
been moved near it, so that she could both sec and converse
witl the company in the sitting-room. Her spotless book-
muslin handkerchief and shawl of white crape-silk were
scarcely whiter than her face, but a deep and quiet content
dwelt in her eyes and gave its sweetness to her feeble voice.
She greeted them all with a grateful and kindly cheerfulness.
The solemnity of the hour was scarcely above the earnest
evel of her life ; it was an atmosphere in which her soul
moved light and free.
Presently Hannah Thurston came into the room. She was
dressed in white muslin, with a very plain lace collar and knot
of white satin ribbon. Her soft dark hair, unadorned by a
single flower, was brought a little further forward on the tem-
ples, giving a gentler feminine outline to her brow. Her fac
A STORY OP AMERICAN LIFE. 42 1
composed and pale, but for a spot of red on each cheek,
and a singularly vague, weary expression in her eyes. When
Woodbury took her hand it was icy cold. She received the
greetings of the others quietly, and then went forward to thr
bedside, at the beckon of her mother. The latter had beet
allowed to direct the ceremony according to her wish, and
the time had now arrived.
The bridal pair took their seats in the sitting-room, side by
side, and facing the open door where the invalid lay. The
guests, on either side of them, formed a half-circle, so arranged
that she could see them ah 1 . She, indeed, seemed to be the
officiating priestess, on whom depended the solemnization of
the rite. After a few moments of silence, such as is taken for
worship in Quaker meetings, she began to speak. Her voice
gathered strength as she proceeded, and assumed the clear,
chanting tone with which, in former years, she had been wont
to preach from the gallery where she sat among the women-
elders of the sect.
" My friends," she said, " I feel moved to say a few words
to you all. I feel that you have not come here without a
realizing sense of the occasion which has called you together,
and that your hearts are prepared to sympathize with those
which are now to be joined in the sight of the Lord. I have
asked of them that they allow mine eyes, in the short time
that is left to me for the things of earth, to look upon their
union. When I have seen that, I can make my peace with
the world, and, although I have not been in all things a faith-
ful servant, I can hope that the joy of the Lord will not be
shut out from my soul. I feel the approach of the peace thai
passeth understanding, and would not wish that, for my
Bake, the house of gladness be made the house of mourning.
Let your hearts be not disturbed by the thought of me. Re-
joice, rather, that the son I lost so long ago is found at the
eleventh hour, and that the prop for which I sought, for
strength to walk through the Valley of the Shadow, is merci-
fully placed in my hands. For I say unto you all, the pure
122 HANNAH THUBSTON .
affection of the human heart is likest the love c f the Heavenly
Father, and they who bestow most of the one shall deserve
most of the other !"
She ceased speaking, and made a sign with her hand. The
heaits of the hearers were thrilled with a solemn, reverential
.' we, as if something more than a human presence overshadowed
them. "Woodbury and Hannah arose, in obedience to her
wgnal, and moved a step towards her. The former had learned
the simple formula of the Friends, and was ready to perform
his part. Taking Hannah's right hand in his own, he spoke
in a clear, low, earnest voice : " In the presence of the Lord,
and these, our friends, I take Hannah Thurston by the hand,
promising, through Divine assistance, to be unto her a loving
and faithful husband, until Death shall separate us."
It was now the woman's turn. Perhaps Woodbury may
have felt a pulse fluttering in the hand he held, but no one saw
i tremor of weakness in her frame or heard it in the firm,
perfect sweetness of her voice. She looked in his eyes as she
pronounced the words, as if her look should carry to his heart
the significance of the vow. When she had spoken, Mr. Waldo
rose, and performed the scarcely less simple ceremonial of the
Cimmerian Church. After he had pronounced them man and
wife, with his hands resting on theirs linked in each other, he
made a benedictory prayer. He spoke manfully to the end,
though his eyes overflowed, and his practised voice threatened
at every moment to break. His hearers had melted long bo-
fore : only the Widow Thurston and the newly-wedded pair
preserved their composure. They were beyond the reach o
lentiment, no matter how tender. None of the others sus-
pected what a battle had been fought, nor what deeper issues
were involved in the victory.
The two then moved to the bedside, and the old wcnian
kissed them both. " Mother," said Woodbury, " let me be a
son to you in truth as in name."
"Richard!" she cried, "my dear boy! Thee is welcome!
tban Richard, for Hannah's sake. Children, have faith in each
A STOEY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 423
other bear each other's burdens. Hannah, is there peace in
l,hy heart now ?"
" Mother, I have promised," she answered ; " I have given
my life into Maxwell's hands : peace will come to me."
" The Lord give it to thee, as He hath given it to me !"
Ihe closed her eyes, utterly exhausted, but happy.
The marriage certificate was then produced and signed by
those present, after which they took their leave. Woodbury
remained until evening, assisting his wife in her attendance on
the invalid, or keeping her company in the sitting-room, when
the latter slept. He said nothing of his love, or his new claim
upon her. Rightly judging that her nature needed rest, after
the severe tension of the past week, he sought to engage her
in talk that would call her thoughts away from herself. He
was so successful in this that the hours fled fast, and when he
left with the falling night, to return to Lakeside, she felt as if
~ o *
a stay had been withdrawn from her.
The next morning he was back again at an early hour, taking
his place as one of the household, as quietly and unobtrusively
as if he had long been accustomed to it. Another atmosphere
came into the cottage with him a sense of strength and reli-
ance, and tender, protecting care, which was exceedingly
grateful to Hannah. The chaos of her emotions was already
beginning to subside, or, rather, to set towards her husband in
a current that grew swifter day after day. The knowledge
that her fate was already determined silenced at once what
would otherwise have been her severest conflict; her chief
remainin p task was to reconcile the cherished aims of her
O
Diind with the new sphere of duties which encompassed her
life. At present, however, even this task must be postponed
She dared think of nothing but her mother, and Wood-
Imry's share in the cares and duties of the moment became
more and more welcome and grateful. It thrilled her with a
iweet sense of the kinship of their hearts, when she heard him
address the old woman as " mother" when his arm, as ten-
der as strong, lifted that mother from the bed to the rocking
424 HANNAH TUUKSXOX:
chair, and back again when she saw the wasted face brighten
at bis coming, and heard the voice of wandering memory call
him, in the wakeful watches of the night. She, too, counted
the minutes of the morning until he appeared, and felt the
twilight drop more darkly before the cottage- windows after
be had gone.
But, as the widow had promised, she did not part them
long. On the fifth day after the marriage she sank peacefully
to rest, to wards sunset, with a gradual, painless fading out of
life, which touched the hearts of the watchers only with the
solemn beauty and mystery of death, not with its terror.
Her external consciousness had ceased, some hours before, but
she foresaw the coming of the inevitable hour, and there was
a glad resignation in her farewell to her daughter and hei
newly-found son. " Love one another !" were her last, faintly-
whispered words, as her eyes closed on both.
Hannah shrank from leaving the cottage before the last
rites had been performed, and Miss Sophia Stevenson, as
well as Mrs. Waldo, offered to remain with her. Woodbury
took charge of the arrangements for the funeral, which were
simple and unostentatious, as became the habit of her sect.
A vague impression of what had happened was floating
through Ptolemy, but was generally received with an incredu-
lity far from consistent with the avidity of village gossip.
The death of the Widow Thurston had been anticipated, but
the previous marriage of her daughter was an event so as-
tounding so completely unheralded by the usual prognostica-
tions, and so far beyond the reach of any supposable cause
that the mind of Ptolemy was slow to receive it as truth. By
the day of the funeral, however, the evidences had accumulated
to an extent that challenged further doubt. But donbtei s and
believers alike determined to profit by the occasion to gratify
their curiosity under the Christian pretext of showing respect
to the departed. The rumor had even reached Atauga City
by the evening stage, and the Misses Smith, having recently
applied them elves with lilac dresses, which, as a half-mourn
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 425
ing color, would uot be inappropriate, resolved also to attend
the funeral services.
As the hour drew nigh, the road in front of the little cot-
tage was crowded with vehicles. It was a mild, sunny Qe-
tober afternoon, and as the room in which the corpse lay would
not contain a tenth part of the guests, they filled the yard and
garden and even the side- walk in front, entering the house as
they arrived, to take that silent look at the dead which is sug-
gested, let us believe, more by human sympathy than by hu-
man curiosity. And, indeed, a solemn loveliness of repose
rested on the thin, composed features of the corpse. All
shadow of pain had passed away, and an aspect of ineffable
peace and comfort had settled in its place. Her hands were
laid, one over the other, upon her breast not with the stony
pressure of death, but as if in the light unconsciousness of
sleep. Upon the coffin-lid lay a wreath of life-everlasting, its
gray, silvery leaves and rich, enduring odor, harmonizing well
with the subdued tastes and the quiet integrity of the sect to
which the old widow had belonged. Even the Rev. Lemuel
Styles, to whom the term " Quaker" implied a milder form
of infidelity, stood for a long time beside the coffin, absorbed
in the beauty of the calm, dead face, and murmured as he
tiirned away : " She hath found Peace."
Two old Friends from Tiberius, with their wives, were also
in attendance, and the latter devoted themselves to Hannah,
as if it were a special duty imposed upon them. Before the
coffin-lid was screwed down, they sat for some time beside the
corpse, with their handkerchiefs pressed tightly over their
mouths. Their husbands, with Mr. Waldo and Merryfield,
bore the coffin to the hearse. The guests gathered around
and in front of the house now began to open their eyes and
prick their ears. The daughter must presently appear, as first
of the mourners, and in company with her husband, if she
were really married. They had not long to wait. Hannah,
leaning on Woodbury's arm, issued from the front door of
the cottage, and slowly passed down the gravel walk to th#
426 tA.NNA.H THUBSTON'
carriage in waiting. Her unveiled face was pale and pro
foundly sad ; her eyes were cast down, and none of the com
pany caught their full glance. Woodbury's countenance iii-
dicated the grave and tender sympathy which filled his heart.
He saw the spectators, without seeming to notice them,
and the keenest curiosity was baffled by his thorough self
possession. Both were surrounded by an atmosphere of sor
row and resignation, in which all expression of their new
nuptial relation was lost. They might have been married for
years, so far as any thing could be guessed from their manner.
The other carriages gradually received their occupants and
followed, in the order of their nearness to the deceased,
whether in the bonds of sect or those of friendship. Among
these the Waldos claimed a prominent place and the Merry-
fields were close behind them. The procession was unusually
large ; it seemed, indeed, as if all Ptolemy were present. On
reaching the Cimmerian churchyard, Bute and the farmers
whose lands adjoined Lakeside were on hand to assist the
mourners and their friends in alighting from the carriages, and
to take care of the horses. The grave was dug at a little dis-
tance from those of the Cimmerians, in a plot of soft, un-
broken turf. Supports were laid across its open mouth, and
when the coffin had been deposited thereon, preparatory to being
lowered, and the crowd had gathered in a silent ring, enclosing
the mourners and their immediate friends, one of the Friends
took off his broad-brimmed hat and in simple, eloquent words,
bore testimony to the truth and uprightness, to the Christian
trust and Christian patience of the departed. The two women
again pressed their handkerchiefs violently upon their mouths,
while he spoke. Woodbury took off his hat and reverently
bent his head, though the other Friend stood 'bolt upright and
remained covered.
Mr. Waldo then followed, with an earnest, heart-felt prayer
He was scarcely aware how much he risked in thus couse-
sratiug the burial of a Quaker woman, and it was fortunate
that no laxity of doctrine could be discovered in the brief sen-
A STOK? OF AMERICAN LIFE. 427
tences he uttered. It was not Doctrine, but Religion, which
inspired his words, and the most intolerant of *his hearers felt
their power while secretly censuring the act. He, too, refer-
red to the widow's life as an example of pious resignation, ana
prayed that the same Christian virtue might come to dwell in
the hearts of all present.
When the coffin had been lowered, and the first spadeful
of earth, though softly let down into the grave, dropped upon
the lid with a muffled, hollow roll, Hannah started as if in pain,
and clung with both hands to her husband's arm. He bent
his head to her face and whispered a word ; what it was, no
other ear than hers succeeded in hearing. The dull, rumbling
sounds continued, until the crumbling whisper of the particles
of earth denoted that the coffin was forever covered from
sight. Then they turned away, leaving the mild Autumn
sun to shine on the new mound, and the thrush to pipe his
broken song over the silence of the dead.
The moment the churchyard gate was passed, Ptolemy re-
turned to its gossip. The incredulous fact was admitted, but
the mystery surrounding it was not yet explained. In the few
families who considered themselves " the upper circle," and
were blessed with many daughters, to none of whom the rich
owner of Lakeside had been indifferent, there was great and
natural exasperation.
" I consider it flying in the face of Providence," said Mrs.
Hamilton Bue to her husband, as they drove homewards ;
"for a man like him, who knows what society is, and ought
to help to purtect it from fanaticism, to marry a strong-minded
woman like she is. And after all he said against their doc-
trines ! I should call it hypocritical, I should !"
" Martha," her husband answered, " If I were you, I
wouldn't say much about it, for a while yet. He's only in-
sured in the Saratoga Mutual for a year, to try it."
Mrs. Styles consoled her sister, Miss Legrand, who at ona
time allowed herself dim hopes of interesting Woodbury in
her behalf. " I always feared that he was not entirely firm in
428 HAifNAn THURSTON:
the faith ; he never seemed inclined to talk with Mr. Stylet
about it She, you know, is quite an Infidel, and, of course,
he could not have been ignorant of it. It's very sad to see a
man so misled 'the lust of the eye,' Harriet."
" I should say it was witchcraft," Harriet remarked, with a
snappish tone ; " she's a very plain-looking girl like an owl
with her big gray eyes and straight hair." Miss Legrand
wore aers in ropy ringlets of great length.
" 1 shouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my
own eyes!" exclaimed Miss Celia Smith to her sister, Miss
Amelia. " I always thought they were dead set against each
other." Miss Celia was more inclined to be emphatic than
choice in her expressions.
"They made believe they were," her sister replied. "She must
have been afraid he'd back out, after all, or they wouldn't have
been married so, right off the reel. It was her last chance:
she's on the wrong side of thirty-five, I should say." Misa
Amelia was thirty-three, herself, although she only confessed
+r> twenty-five. The memory of a certain sleigh-ride the
winter before, during which her incessant fears ot an overturn
obliged Woodbury to steady her with his arm, was fresh in
her mind, with all its mingled sweet and bitter. Severa
virgin hearts shared the same thought, as the carriages went
homeward that it was a shame, so it was, that this strong
minded woman, whom nobody imagined ever could be a rival,
should sneak into the fold by night and carry off the pick of
the masculine flock !
Meanwhile, the objects of all this gossip returned to the
desolate cottage. When they entered the little sitting-room,
I fannah's composure gave way, under the overwhelming sense
of her loss which rushed upon her, as she saw that every thing
was restored to its usual place, and the new life, without her
mother, had commenced. Her tears flowed without restraint,
and her husband allowed the emotion to exhaust itself before
he attempted consolation. But at last he took her, still sob-
bing, to his breast, and silently upheld her.
A STORY Of AMERICAN LIFE. 49 1
" Hannah," he said, " my dear wife, how can I leave you here
alone, to these sad associations ? This can no* longer be your
home. Come to me with your burden, and let me help you
to bear it."
" Oh, Maxwell," she answered, " you are my help and my
comfort. No one else has the same right to share my sorrow.
My place is beside you : I will try to fill it as I ought : but
Maxwell can I, dare I enter your home as a bride, coming
thus directly from the grave of my mother ?"
" You will bring her blessing in the freshness of its sanc-
tity," he said. "Understand me, Hannah. In the reverence
for your sorrow, my love is patient. Enter my home, now, ae
the guest of my heart, giving me only the right to soothe and
comfort, until you can hear, without reproach, the voice of
love."
His noble consideration for her grief and her loneliness
melted Hannah's heart. Through all the dreary sense of her
loss penetrated the gratitude of love. She lifted her arms
and clasped them about his neck. "Take me, my dear hus-
band," she whispered, " take me, rebellious as I have been,
unworthy as I am, and teach me to deserve your magnanimity."
He took her home that evening, under the light of the rising
moon, down the silence of the valley, through the gathering
mists of the meadows, and under the falling of the golden
Leaves. The light of Lakeside twinkled, a ruddy star, to greet
them, and with its brightening ray stole into her heart th
first presentiment of Woman's Home.
HANNAH TUUBSTOV!
CHAPTER XXXIV.
CONCERNING THE NEW HOUSEHOLD OF LAKESIDE.
IN a day or two all the familiar articles of furniture which
Hannah desired to retain, were transferred to Lakeside with her
personal effects, and the cottage was closed until a new ten-
ant could be found. In the first combined shock of grief and
change, the secluded beauty of her new home was especially
grateful. The influences of Nature, no less than the tender at-
tentions of her husband, and the quiet, reverent respect of Bute
and Carrie, gradually soothed and consoled her. Day after
day the balmy southwest wind blew, hardly stirring the
smoky purple of the air, through which glimmered the float-
ing drifts of gossamer or the star-like tufts of wanderinp
down. The dead flowers saw their future resurrection in
these winged, emigrating seeds ; the trees let fall the loosened
splendor of their foliage, knowing that other summers were
sheathed in the buds left behind ; even the sweet grass of the
meadows bowed its dry crest submissively over the green
heart of its perennial life. Every object expressed the infinite
patience of Nature with her yearly recurring doom. The
BUD himself seemed to veil his beams in noonday haze, lest he
should smite with too severe a lustre the nakedness of the
landscape, as it slowly put off its garment of life.
For years past, she had been deprived of the opportunity
BO to breathe the enchantment of the heavenly season. As
soon as the chill of the morning dew had left the earth, she
went forth to the garden and orchard, and along the sunny
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 431
margin of the whispering pine-wood behind the house, striving
to comprehend the change that had come over-her, and fit her
views of life to harmony with it. In the afternoons she went,
at Woodbury's side, to a knoll overhanging the lake, whence
the landscape was broader and grander, opening northward,
beyond the point, where now and then a sail flashed dimly
along the blue water. Here, sitting on the grassy brink, he
told her of the wonderful life of the tropics, of his early hopes
and struggles, of the cheating illusions he had cherished, the
sadder knowledge he had wrested from experience, and that
immortal philosophy of the heart in which all things are recon-
ciled. He did not directly advert to his passion for herself,
but she felt it continually as the basis from which his confi-
dences grew. He was a tender, trustful friend, presenting to
her, leaf by leaf, the book of his life. She, too, gave him
much of hers in return. She found a melancholy pleasure in
speaking of the Past to one who had a right to know it, and
to whom its most trifling feature was not indifferent. Her
childhood, her opening girlhood, her education, her desire for
all possible forms of cultivation, her undeveloped artistic sym-
pathies and their conflict with the associations which surround-
ed her all these returned, little by little, and her husband re-
joiced to find in them fresh confirmations of the instinctive
judgment, on the strength of which he had ventured his
love.
In the evenings they generally sat in the library, where he
read to her from his choice stores of literature, and from the
reading grew earnest mutual talk which calmed and refreshed
her mind. The leisure of his long years in India had not been
thrown away : he had developed and matured his natural
taste for literature by the careful study of the English and
French classics, and was familiar with the principal German
and Italian authors, so far as they could be known through
translations. He had also revived, to somt extent, his musty
knowledge of the Greek and Latin poets, and his taste had thus
Doome pure and healthy in proportion to the variety of hjf
482 HANNAH THURSTON:
acquirements. Hannah had, now and then, perhaps (thougk
this is doubtful, in the circumscribed community of Ptolemy),
encountered men of equal culture, but none who had spoken
to her as an equal, from the recognition of like capacities in
her own mind. She saw, in this intercourse with her husband,
(he commencement of a new and inexhaustible intellectual
jnjoyment. That clamor of her nature for the supposed rights
denied to her sex was, in part, the result of a baffled menta-
passion, which now saw the coveted satisfaction secured to
it ; and thus the voice of her torment grew weaker day by
day.
Day by day, also, with scarce a spoken word of love, the
relations between the two became more fond and intimate.
Woodbury's admirable judgment taught him patience. He
saw the color gradually coming back to the pale leaves of the
flower, and foresaw the day when he might wear it on his
bosom. The wind-tossed lake smoothed its surface more and
more, and gleams of his own image were reflected back to him
from the subsiding waves. The bride glided into the wife by
a gentle, natural transition. She assumed her place as head
rf the household, and Carrie, who was always nervously
nxious under the weight of the responsibility, transferred it
gladly to her hands. The sense of her ownership in the treas-
ures of Lakeside, which had at first seemed incredible, grew
real by degrees, as she came to exercise her proper authority,
and as her husband consulted with her in regard to the pro-
posed changes in the garden and grounds. All these things
Aspired her with a new and delightful interest. The sky of
-ler life brightened as the horizon grew wider. Her individ-
ttal sphere of action had formerly been limited on every side ;
Ler tastes had been necessaiily suppressed ;- and the hard,
utilitarian spirit, from which she shrank, in the associations of
bet sect, seemed to meet her equally wherever she turned.
Her instinct of beauty was now liberated ; for Woodbury,
possessing it himself, not only appreciated, but encouraged ita
vitality in her nature. The rooms took the impression of her
A. SlORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 4&J
taste, at first in minor details and then in general arrange-
ments, and this external reflection of herself irt the features of
he'- borne reacted upon her feelings, separating her by a con-
stantly widening gulf from her maiden life.
The gold of the forests corroded, the misty violet bloom of
the Indian Summer was \vashed away by sharp winds and
col" I rains, and when winter set in, the fire on the domestic
hearth burned with a warm, steady flame. Immediately after
f,be marriage, Woodbury had not only picked out a very
pretty site for the cottage which he must now build in earnest
for Bute's occupancy, but had immediately engaged masons
and carpenters to commence the work. It was on a low knob
or spur of the elevation upon which stood his own house, but
nearer the Anacreon road. Bute and Carrie were in ecstasies
with the design, which was selected from " Downing's Land-
scape Gardening." It was a story and a half high, with over-
hanging balconies, in the Swiss style, and promised to be a
picturesque object in the view from Lakeside, especially as it
would just hide the only ragged and unlovely spot in the
landscape, to the left of Roaring Brook. By great exertion
on Bute's part, it was gotten under roof, and then left for a
winter's seasoning, before completion in the spring. This
house and every thing connected with it took entire possession
of the mind of Mrs. Carrie Wilson, and not a day passed with-
out her consulting Hannah in regard to some internal or
external arrangement. She would have flowered chintz cur-
tains to the windows of the " best room" blue, with small
pink roses : the stuff would be cheap and of course she would
make them herself: would it be better to have them ruffled
with the same, or an edging of the coarse cotton lace which
she had learned to knit ? Bute had promised her a carpet,
and they could furnish the room little by little, so that the
expense would not be felt. " We must economize," she inva-
riably added, at the close : " we are going to lay something
by every year, and I want to show Bute that I can manage to
have every thing nice and tasty, without spending much."
19
43 4 HANNAH T
The little woman still retained her admiration for Hannah.
perhaps in an inci'eased degree, now that Woodbury (for whom
Carrie had conceived such a profound respect) had chosen
her to be his wife. She confided to the latter all her wonder-
ful pians for the future, utterly forgetful how they differed
from the confidences which she had been accustomed to bo
ttow. Hannah could not help remarking her present uncon-
sciousness of that ambition which she had once pitied ae
mistaken, though she had not the heart to check it. A similai
change seemed to be taking place in herself. " Is it always
BO ?" she reflected. " Is the fulfilment of our special destiny
as women really the end of that lofty part which we resolved
to take in the forward struggle of the race ? Was my desire
to vindicate the just claims of my sex only the blind result oi
the relinquishment of earlier dreams ? It cannot be : but this
much is true that the restless mind is easily cradled to sleep
on the beatings of a happy heart."
The strict seclusion of her life was rarely broken. The
Waldos and Merryfields came once or twice for a brief call, but
Woodbury, though he went occasionally to Ptolemy, did not
urge her to accompany him. Sometimes, on mild days, he
drove with her over the hills, re-exploring for her the pic-
turesque little nooks of the upland which he had discovered.
Hannah was contented with this ; she knew that Society
awaited her, after a time, but it could not now deny her that
grateful repose, in which she gathered strength, and hope, and
harmony with herself. Indeed, the life of Ptolemy flowed
more quietly than usual, this season. The Great Sewing-Union
was not reorganized, because the Cimmerians had decided on
a " Donation Party" for Mr. Waldo's benefit, instead of a Fair ;
the Abolitionists had not sufficient cohesive power without
the assistance of Hannah and Mrs. Merryfield, and prepared
their contributions separately at home ; and thus only the
Mission Fund remained. The latter, however, was stimulated
to fresh activity by the arrival of a package of letters, early
in December, from Mrs. Jehiel Preeks (formerly Miss Eliza
a. STOKT OF AMERICAN LIFE. 436
Clancy), dated fr >m Cuddapah, in the Telugn Country. She had
passed a week at Jutnapore, and was shocked to find that her
brown namesake, for whom she had made the mousseline-de-
laine frock with tucks, had been married a year, although not
yet fourteen, and exhibited to her a spiritual grand-baby, on
he? arrival. She forwarded to Miss Ruhaney Goodwin a letter
in the Telugu language from her son Elisha, which the spinstei
had framed and hung up beside her looking-glass. "It's
more like bird tracks than any thing else," she whispered, con-
fidentially, "but the sight of it gives me a deal of comfort."
Thus, the labors for the Mission Fund were resumed, but
the young men who attended looked back to the days of
the Great Sewing-Union with regret. The mixed composition
of the latter had been its great charm, and even the ladies of
the Fund missed the extended comparison of stuffs and pat-
terns, and the wider range of mantua-making gossip which
they had enjoyed during the previous winter. The curiosity
in regard to the Woodburys still continued to be rife ; but
Mrs. Waldo, who was continually appealed to, as their nearest
friend, for an explanation of the mystery, knew no more than
any of the others what had passed between the two before their
marriage. The first sharpness of public comment on the oc-
currence soon gave place to a more just and reasonable feeling.
Both were popular, in a different way, in Ptolemy. A mod-
erate amount of good-luck would not have been grudged to
either, but that they should find it in each other was the
thought which astounded the community. The strangest
things, however, soon grow common-place, and all that had
oeen said or thought, in the first period of wonderment, waa
gradually forgotten. Both Mrs. Styles and Mrs. Hamilton
Bue called at Lakeside, and went home well pleased with the
kindly courtesy and hospitality which they received. They
aw that the husband and wife evidently understood each other
and were happy in the knowledge : any thing further than
this the keenest scrutiny failed to discover. Woodbury had
the coolness of a thorough man of the world *n turning aside
436 HANNAH THUBSTOX:
impertinent questions, such as many good persons, with their
unformed American ideas of propriety, see no harm in asking
ft is true that he sometimes gave offence in this way, but hia
apparent unconsciousness of the fact healed the wound, while
I prevented a repetition of the impertinence.
Hannah admired the self-possession of her husband, as a
powei , the attainment of which was beyond her own reach.
The characteristic which had most repelled her, on their first
iicquaintance, was now that which threw around her a comfort-
ing sense of protection and defence. It was not a callous con-
dition of his finer sensibilities, she saw; it was a part of hia
matured balance and repose of character, yet the latter still
sometimes impressed her almost like coldness, in comparison
with her own warmth of sentiment. For this reason, perhaps,
as her love to him deepened and strengthened as his being
became more and more a blissful necessity his composed, un-
changing tenderness often failed to satisfy, in full measure,
the yearnings of her heart. While she was growing in- the
richness of her affections, he seemed to be standing still.
With all Woodbury's experience of woman, he had yet
much to learn. No course could have been better chosen than
the delicate and generous consideration which he exhibited
towards his wife, up to a certain point. His mistake was, that
he continued it long after the necessity had ceased, and when,
to her changed nature, it suggested a conscientious sense of
justice rather than the watchfulness of love. He was waiting
for her heart to reach the knowledge which already filled it to
overflowing, betraying itself daily by a subtle language which
he did not understand. The experiences through which he
had passed had familiarized him with the presence of passion
iu himself: his heart did not throb less powerfully, but il
throbbed beneath a mask of calmness which had been sternly
enforced upon him. He did not reflect that his wife, with all
the pervading passion of the ripened woman, still possessed,
in this her first lov., the timidity of a girl, and could not ast
for that independent speech of the heart which he withheld.
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 48*
Even with regard to the questions which had so nearly kept
them asunder, she would have preferred frank discussion to
silence Here, however, he had promised her full liberty of
action, and she could not refer to them without a seeming
doubt of his word. Once or twice, indeed she timidly ap-
proached the subject, but he had avoided it with a gentleneai
and kindness which she could not resist. She suffered no re-
pronch to rest upon him, in her inmost thought ; she reproached
herself for having invoked the promise for having obliged
him to raise the thin, impalpable screen which still interposed
itself between their hearts. Mrs. Styles, in reporting her
\isit, had said: "they look as if they had already been mar-
ried ten years," and she had said truly. That calm, which
was so grateful in the first tumult of the wife's feelings, which
enabled her to pass through the transition of her nature in
peace, now sometimes became oppressive in the rush of
happy emotions that sought but knew not how to find expres-
sion.
The knowledge that Woodbury had modified his personal
habits so as to avoid offending her prejudices, also gave her
pair*.. She learned, from Carrie, that he had been in the habit
of drinking a glass or two of claret at dinner, and of smoking
in the library after meals, or as he read in the evenings. ^ Now,
the wine had disappeared from the table, and he took his cigar
in the garden, or in the veranda. Both the habits were still
repugnant to her sense of right, but love was beginning to
'teach her tolerance. He was, perhaps, partly weaned from
''hem,, she thought, and in that case it would be wrong in her
iolead him back to his old subjection; yet, on the other hand,
That sacrifice had he not made for her? and what had
nade for him ?
Towards the end of winter, she found that her m
becoming singularly confuted and uncertain,
siliation with her destin y> the harmony of heart and brain,
which she see ned to be, on the point of attaining, si
gnin into something ^bich appeared to be a dis
488 HANNAH THURSTON:
temperament rather than of intellect. Things, trifling In
themselves, exalted or. depressed her without any apparent
reason; unreasonable desires presented themselves to her
mind, and in this perpetual wavering of the balance of her
nature, nothing seemed steady except her love for her hus*
band. She longed, at times, to throw herself upon his breast
and weep the 'confession she did not dare to speak; but her
moments of strength perversely came when he was absent, and
her moments of cowardice when he was present. Through
all the uncertain, shifting range of her sensations, ran, never-
theless, a dazzling thread of some vague, foreboded bliss, the
features of which she could not distinguish. She often re-
peated to herself the song of Clarchen, in Goethe's " Egmont,"
which was among the works her husband had read with her :
Depressed,
Pensively brooding amain ;
Trembling,
Dissembling,
Hovering in fear and in pain:
Sorrowing to death, or exulting the angels abore,
Blessed alone is the heart in its lovel"
One afternoon she was seized with such an intense longing
for the smell of tobacco-smoke, that she could scarcely wait
until Woodbury, who had ridden into Ptolemy, returned
home. As soon as he had taken off his great-coat and
kissed her, as was his wont, she drew him into the library.
" Maxwell," she said, " I have a favor to ask of you."
" Have you ? I shall be delighted to grant it."
"You will think it strange," she continued, blushing;
* I wish you would light a cigar ; I think I should find the
nnjke agreeable."
" That is not asking a favor, Hannah ; it is granting one to
me. I'll take one of my best, and you shall have a fair trial.' 1
He laughed pleasantly at what he considered a benevolent
effort on her part to endure his favorite indulgence. He
A STOKT OF AMERICAN LIFE. 481
placed easy-chairs for them, on opposite sides of the fire, lest
her experiment might fail from being overdone, and lighted
one of his choicest Cabanas. The rich, delicate, sedative
odor soon pervaded the air, but she held her ground. He took
down Sir Thomas Brcwne, one of his favorites, and read aloud
the pleasant passages. The snowy ashes lengthened in the
cigar, the flavor of the book grew more choice and ripe, and
ai'tur an hour he tossed the diminutive remaining end into the
grate, saying:
" Well, what is the result ?"
"I quite forgot the cigar, Maxwell," she answered, "in my
enjoyment of Sir Thomas. But the odor at first you will
laugh at me was delightful. I am so sorry that you have
been so long deprived of what must be to you an agreeable
habit, on my account."
"I have only been acting up to my principles," he said,
" that we have a right to exercise our individual freedom in
such matters, when they do not interfere directly with the
comfort of others. But here, I am afraid, Sir Thomas helped
to neutralize your repugnance. Shall we go on with him, a
chapter and a cigar at a time? Afterwards I can take
Barton and Montaigne, if you are not fully acclimated."
He spoke gayly, with a dancing light in his eyes, but the
plan was seriously carried out. Hannah was surprised to find
in Montaigne a reference to the modern doctrine (as she sup-
posed it to be) of " Women's Rights." It was not a pleasant
reflection that the cause had made so little progress in three
centuries. The reading of this passage brought up the subject
in a natural way, and she could not help remarking :
"Discussions on the subject will never come to an end,
nntil we have some practical application of the theory, which
will be an actual and satisfactory test of its truth."
"I, for one, would not object to that," Woodbury answered,
''provided it could be tried without disturbing too much the
established order of Society. If a large class of women
should at any time demand these rights, a refusal to let the
440 ftANKAH THtmSTOtf t
experiment be tested would imply a fear of its success. Now.
T do not believe that any system can be successful which does
not contain a large proportion of absolute truth, and while 1
cannot think, as you know, that woman is fitted for the same
career as man, I am not afraid to see her make the trial I
will pledge myself to abide by the result."
" If all men were as just, Maxwell, we should have no cause
to complain. After all, it is the right to try, rather than the
right to be, which we ask. The refusal to grant us that does
not seem either like the magnanimity of the stronger, or even
an assured faith in his strength."
"Men do not seriously consider the subject," said he.
"The simple instinct of sex dictates their opposition. They
attribute to a distorted, unfeminine ambition, what is often
in you, Hannah, I know it a pure and unselfish aspiration.
The basis of instinct is generally correct, but it does not ab-
solve us from respect for the sincerity of that which assails it."
"I will try to be as just to you, in return !" she exclaimed.
" I feel that my knowledge has been limited that I have been
self-boastful of the light granted to my mind, when it was
only groping in twilight, towards the dawn. My heart drew
back from you, because it feared a clashing of opinions which
could never harmonize.
She was on the verge of a tenderer confession, but he did
not perceive it. His words, unwittingly, interrupted the cur-
rent of her feelings. His voice was unintentionally grave and
his brow earnest, as he said : " I trust, more than ever, to the
true woman's nature in you, Hannah. Let me say one thing
to set your mind at rest forever. It was my profound appre-
ciation of those very elements in your character which led you
to take up these claims of Woman and make them your own,
that opened the way for you to my heart. I reverence the
qualities without accepting all the conclusions born of them.
I thank God that I was superior to shallow prejudice, which
would have hindered me from approaching you, and thus have
lost me the blessing of my life !"
A STOfcY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 1 1 1
He rose and laid away the book. Every word he had said
was just and noble, but it was not the fervid, impassioned
utterance which Her heart craved to hear. There were tears
in her eyes, but he misinterpreted them.
Ah, the " true woman's nature !" Did he trust to it ? Did
he know it, in its timidity, in its exacting fondness, in its pride
ff Devotion and its joy of sacrifice?
N ot yet.
19*
442 HAJJNAH THtJBSTOJT
CHAPTER XXXV.
IK WHICH WE ATTEND ANOTHER ALKKTING IN FAVOB O*
" WOMEN'S EIGHT'S,"
EARLY in April, Mr. Isaiah Bemis again made his appearance
in Ptolemy. He had adopted REFORM as his profession, and
in the course of fifteen years' practice had become a Jack-of-
all-trades in philanthropy and morals. He was ready, at the
shortest notice, to give an address on Total Abstinence, Vege-
tarianism (or " Vegetality," as he termed it, with a desire to
be original), Slavery, Women's Rights, or Non-Resistance, ac-
cording to the particular need of the community he visited.
He also preached, occasionally, before those independent,
religious bodies which spring up now and then in a spasmodic
protest against church organization, and which are the natural
complement of the Perfectionists in Government and Society,
who believe that the race is better off without either. In
regard to Spiritualism he was still undecided : it was not yet
ingrafted upon the trunk of the other Reforms as an accepted
branch of the same mighty tree, and a premature adherence
to it might loosen his hold on those boughs from which he
sucked sustenance, fame, and authority.
By slender contributions from the Executive Committees of
the various Societies, and the free hospitality of the prose'ytei
of one or the other, all through the country, Mr. Bemis waa
in the possession of a tolerable income, which came to niia
through the simple gratification of his natural tendencies. To
harangue the public was a necessity rather than a fatigue.
He was well stored with superficial logic wherewith to over
whelm ordinary disputants, while with his hosts, from whom
no opposition was to be expected, he assumed in air of arro-
A STOBY OF AMERICAN LIPE. 443
gant superiority. This was principally their own fault. A
man who hears himself habitually called an Apostle and a
Martyr, very soon learns to put on his robes of saintship.
None of his subjects was bold enough to dispute the intel-
lectual and moral autocracy which he assumed. Thus, for fif-
teen years, a Moral Gypsy, he had led a roving life through the
country, from Maine to Indiana, interrupted only by a trip to
England, in 1841, as a "delegate at large" to the "World's
Anti-Slavery Convention." During all this time his wife had
supported herself by keeping a boarding-house in a small town
in New Jersey. He was accustomed to visit her once a year,
and at such times scrupulously paid his board during the few
weeks of his stay which circumstance was exploited as an
illustration of his strict sense of justice and his constancy to
the doctrine of Women's Rights.
Central New York was a favorite field for Mr. Bemis, and
he ranged its productive surface annually. His meetings being
announced in advance in the Annihilator^ his friends were
accustomed to have all the arrangements made on his arrival.
On reaching Ptolemy, however, two or three days still inter-
vened before the meeting could be held, on account of Turn
blety Hall having been previously engaged by the "Mozart
Ethiopian Opera," and the " Apalachicolan Singers." Mr.
Bemis, as a matter of course, claimed the hospitality of the
Merryfields in the interval. He was not received with the
expected empressement, nor were his Orphic utterances listened
to with the reverence to which he was used. The other
friends of the cause foremost among them Seth Wattles
nevertheless paid their court as soon as his arrival became
known, and (spiritually) on bended knees kissed the hand of
the master.
The arrangements for the coming meeting were first to be
discussed. Attention had been drawn away from the reform
during the previous summer by the renewed agitation in favor
of Temperance, and it was desirable to renovate the faded
impression. The Rev. Amelia Parkes had been invited
444 HANNAH THUKSTON:
but was unable to leave her congregation ; and Bessie Strykei
was more profitably engaged in lecturing before various
literary associations, at one hundred dollars a night (payable
only in gold). Mr. Chubbuck, of Miranda, could be depended
upon, but he was only a star of the second magnitude, and
something more was absolutely required.
" We must get Miss Thurston I mean Mrs. Woodbury
again. There is nothing else to be done," remarked Mr.
Bemis, drawing down his brows. He had not forgotten that
the people of Ptolemy had freely given to her the applause
which they had withheld from his more vigorous oratory.
" I rather doubt, as it were," said Mr. Merryfield, " whether
Hannah will be willing to speak."
" Why not ?" thundered Bemis.
"She's lived very quietly since her marriage, and I
shouldn't wonder if she'd changed her notions somewhat."
"I shouldn't wonder," said Seth, drawing up his thici
nostrils, u if her husband had forbidden her ever to speak
again. If he could bully her into marrying him, he could do
that, too."
" You're mistaken, Seth," exclaimed Mr. Merryfield, color-
ing with a mild indignation, " there's nothing of the bully
about Woodbury. And if they two don't love each other
sincerely, why, Sarah and me don't !"
"We can easily find out all about it," said Mr. Bemis,
rising and buttoning his coat over his broad chest. "Mr.
Wattles, will . you come with me ? We will constitute our
selves a Committee of Invitation."
Seth, nothing loath, put on his hat, and the two started on
their errand. It was but a short walk to Lakeside, which
they reached soon after Woodbury had taken his customary
place in the library, with a cigar in his mouth and a volume
of Pepys' Diary in his hand. Hannah sat near him, quiet and
happy : she was not only reconciled to her husband's habit,
but enjoyed the book and talk which accompanied it more
than any other part of the day. On this occasion they wer
A STOEY OF AMEEICAN LIFE. 448
interrupted by Bute, who announced the visitors in the fol-
lowing style :
"Miss' Woodbury, here's Setb Wattles and another man
has come to see you."
Hannah rose with a look of disappointment, and turned
towards her husband, hesitatingly.
" Shall I go, also ?" he asked.
"I would prefer it, Maxwell; I have no private business
with any one."
Bute had ushered the visitors into the tea-room. The door
to the library was closed, but a faint Cuban perfume was per-
ceptible. Seth turned towards Mr. Bemis with elevated eye-
brows, and gave a loud sniff, as much as to say : " Do you
notice that ?" The latter gentleman scowled and shook his
head, but said nothing.
Presently the door opened and Hannah made her appearance,
followed by her husband. She concealed whatever embarrass-
ment she may have felt at the sight of Mr. Bemis, frankly
gave him her hand, and introduced him to her husband.
"Be seated, gentlemen," said the latter, courteously. "I
would ask you into the library, but I have been smoking there,
and the room may not be agreeable to you."
"Hem! we are not exactly accustomed to such an at-
mosphere," said Mr. Bemis, taking a chair.
Woodbury began talking upon general topics, to allow his
guests time to recover from a slight awkwardness which was
evident in their manner. It was not long, however, before
Mr. Bemis broached the purpose of his visit. " Mrs. Wood-
bury," said he, " you have heard that we are to have a meet-
ng on Wednesday evening ?"
" Yes."
" We have been disappointed in getting the Rev. Amelia
Parkes, and the advocacy of The Cause is incomplete unless a
woman takes part in it. I have therefore come to ask your
assistance. We wish, this time, to create an impression."
It was not a welcome message. She knew that such a teat
44ft HANNAH rHUKSTOBT:
must come, some time ; but of late she had been unable t
apply her mind steadily to any subject, and had postponed,
by an agreement with herself, the consideration of all disturb-
ing questions. She looked at her husband, but his calm face
expressed no counsel. He was determined that she should
act independently, and he would allow no word or glance to
influence her decision.
" It is long since I have spoken," she said at last ; " I am
not sure that I should be of service." She wished to gain
time by an undecided answer, still hoping that Woodbury
would come to her assistance.
" We are the best judges of that," said Mr. Bemis, with
something of his old dictatorial tone. "I trust you will not
fail us, now when we have such need. The interest in The
Cause has very much fallen off, in this neighborhood, and if
you desert us, to whom shall we look for help ?"
"Yes, Hannah," chimed in Seth, "you know we have
always looked upon you as one of the Pillars of Progress."
It grated rather harshly upon Woodbury's feelings to hear
his wife addressed so familiarly by the ambitious tailor ; but
she was accustomed to it, from the practice of her sect to
bear testimony against what they call " compliments."
" 1 have not lost my interest in the cause," Hannah answered,
after another vain attempt to read Woodbury's face ; " but I
have freely uttered my thoughts on the subject, and I could
say nothing that has not been already heard."
" Nothing else is wanted," said Mr. Bemis, eagerly. " The
Truth only gains by repetition ; it still remains eternally new.
How many thousand times have the same Bible texts been
preached from, and yet their meaning is not exhausted it ia
noi even fully comprehended. How much of the speaker's
discourse do yoa suppose the hearers carry home with them ?
Not a tenth part and even that tenth part must -be repeated
ten times before it penetrates beneath the surface of their
uatures. Truth is a nail that you cannot drive into ordinary
comprehensions with one blow of the hammer : you must pile
A StORY OF AMERICAN LIFB. 44?
troke upon stroke, before it enters far enough to be clinched
fast. It is not the time for you to draw back now, in a season
of faint-heartedness and discouragement. If you fail, it will
be said that your views have changed with the change in
your life, and you will thus neutralize all your labors hereto-
fore."
" That cannot be said of me !" exclaimed Hannah, thor-
oughly aroused and indignant. " My husband has been too
just too generous, diflfering with me as he does to impose
any restrictions upon my action !" She turned towards him,
He answered her glance with a frank, kindly smile, which
thanked her for her words, but said no more. " Well, then !"
she continued; "I will come, if only to save him from an
unjust suspicion. I will not promise to say much. You over-
estimate my value as an advocate of the reform."
" It is not for me," said Mr. Bemis, with affected humility,
" to speak of what I have done; but I consider myself com-
petent to judge of the services of others. Your influence will
be vastly increased when your consistency to The Cause shah 1
be known and appreciated. I now have great hopes that we
shall inaugurate an earnest moral awakening."
Little more was said upon the subject, and in a short time
the two reformers took their leave. After Woodbury had
returned from the door, whither he had politely accompanied
them, he said, in his usual cheerful tone: "Well, Hannah,
shall we return to Old Pepys ?"
Her momentary excitement had already died away. She
appeared perplexed and restless, but she mechanically rose and
followed him into the library. As he took up the book, sLe
interrupted him: "Tell me, Maxwell, have I done right?'*
"You should know, Hannah," he answered. "I wish you
to act entirely as your own nature shall prompt, without
reference to me. I saw that you had not much desire to
accept the invitation, but, having accepted it, I suppose you
must fulfil your promise."
" Yes, I suppose so," she said ; but her tone was weary and
44$ HANttAH
disappointed. How gladly would she hare yielded to hii
slightest wish, if he would only speak it! What a sweet
comfort it would have been to her heart, to know that she
had sacrificed something belonging to herself, even were it
that higher duty which had almost become a portion of her
conscience, for his sake ! The independence which he, with
nn over-considerate love, had assured to her, seemed to isolate
her nature when it should draw nearer to his. His perfect
justice crushed her with a cold, unyielding weight of not
obligation, for that cannot coexist with love but something
almost as oppressive. She had secured her freedom from
man's dictation that freedom which once had seemed so rare
and so beautiful and now her heart cried aloud for one word
of authority. It would be so easy to yield, so blissful to
be able to say: "Maxwell, I do this willingly, for your
sake !" but he cruelly hid the very shadow of his wish from
her sight and denied her the sacrifice ! He forced her in-
dependence back upon her when she would have laid it down,
trusting all she was and all she might be to the proved nobility
of his nature 1 Self-abnegation, she now felt, is the heart of
love ; but the rising flood of her being was stayed by the
barriers which she had herself raised.
All the next day her uneasiness increased. It was not onlv
her instinctive fear of thwarting her husband's hidden desire
which tormented her, but a singular dread of agj\in making
her appearance before the public. She was not conscious of
any change in her views on the question of Woman, but they
failed to give her strength and courage. A terrible sinking
of the heart assailed her as often as she tried to collect her
thoughts and arrange the expected discourse in her mind.
Every thing seemed to shift and slide before the phantasm of
her inexplicable fear. Woodbury could not help noticing hei
agitation, but he understood neither its origin nor its nature.
He was tender as ever, and strove to soothe her without ad-
verting to the coming task. It was the only inhappy dxy she
bad known since she had come to Lakeside.
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 44k
The next morning dawned the morning of Wednesday-
rid noon came swiftly as a flash, since she dreaded its ap
proach. The dinner had been ordered earlier than usual, foi
the meeting was to commence at two o'clock; and as soon as
it was over, Woodbury said to her : " It is time you were
ready, Hannah. I will take you to Ptolemy, of course, and
will attend the meeting, or not, as you desire."
She drew him into the library. " Oh, Maxwell!" she cried j
" will you not tell me what you wish me to do ?"
"My clear wife," he said, "do not torment yourself on
my_account I have tried to fulfil to the utmost my promise
to you : have I said or done any thing to make you suspect
my sincerity ?"
" Oh, nothing, nothing ! You have kept it only too well.
But, Maxwell, my heart fails me : I cannot go ! the very
thought of standing where I once stood makes me grow faint.
I have no courage to do it again."
" Then do not," he answered ; " I will make a suitable
apology for your failure. Or, if that is not enough, shall I
take your place ? I will not promise," he added, smiling,
" to go quite so far as you might have done, but I will at least
say a few earnest words which can do no harm. Who has so
good a right to be your substitute as your husband ?"
" Maxwell," she sobbed, " how you put me to shame !" It
was all she could say. He took her in his arms, kissed her
tenderly, and then drove into Ptolemy.
Tumblety Hall was crowded. The few advocates of the
cause had taken good care to spread the news that Mrs.
Woodbury was to be one of the speakers, and there was a
general, though indefinite curiosity to hear her again, now that
she was married. Mr. Bemis rubbed his hands as he saw how
rapidly the benches were filling, and observed to Seth Wat-
tles : " The iron is hot, and we have only to strike hard." After
the audience bad assembled, the latter was chosen Chairman oi
the meeting, Mr. Merrvfield declining, on account of liis having
BO frequently filled that oflice, " as it were."
450 HANNAH THUBSTON :
Seth called the meeting to order with a pompous, satisfied
air. His phrases were especially grandiloquent; for, like
many semi-intelligent persons, he supposed that the power of
oratory depended on the sound of the words. If the latter
were not always exactly in the right place, it made little di
ference. " Be ye convinced, my brethren," he concluded,
" that absoloot Right will conquer, hi spite of the concatena-
tions and the hostile discrepancies of Urrur (Error) ! Our
opponents have attempted to shut up every door, every vein
and artery, and every ramification of our reform, but the angel
of Progress bursts the prison-doors of Paul and Silas, and
when the morning dawns, the volcano is extinct 1"
Mr. Bemis followed, in what he called his " sledge -hammer
style," which really suggested a large hammer, so far as voice
and gesture were concerned, but the blows did not seem to
make much impression. He had, however, procured a few
new anecdotes, both of the wrongs and the capacities of wo-
man, and these prevented his harangue from being tedious to
the audience. They were stepping-stones, upon which the
latter could wade through the rushing and turbid flood of hia
discourse.
It had been arranged that Hannah should follow him, and
Mr. Chubbuck, of Miranda, close the performance. When,
therefore, Mr. Bemis sat down, he looked around for his suc-
cessor, and the audience began to stir and buzz, in eager
expectation. She was not upon the platform, but Woodbury
was seen, pressing down the crowded side-aisle, apparently
endeavoring to make his way to the steps. He finally reached
them and mounted upon the platform, where a whispered
consultation took place between himself and Mr. Bemis. " Th
countenance of the latter gentleman grew dark, and he in turn
whispered to Seth, who, after some hesitation, arose and
addressed the meeting :
O
"-' We have again an illustration," he said, " of the vanity of
human wishes. We expected to present to you the illustrious
prototype of her sex, to whose cerulean accents you have oftej
A STOKY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 461
listened and applauded, but disappointment has chilled the
genial current of our souls. She has sent a" subsidy in her
place, and he is prepared to await your pleasure, if you will
hear the spontaneous vindication."
A movement of surprise ran through the audience, but
their disappointment at once gave place to a new curiosity,
*nd a noise of stamping arose, in token of satisfaction. "Wood-
bury, whose demeanor was perfectly serious and collected, in
spite of a strong tendency to laugh at Seth, stepped forward
to the front of the platform, and, as soon as silence returned,
began to speak. His manner was easy and natural, and his
voice unusually clear and distinct, though the correctness of
his pronunciation struck his hearers, at first, like affectation.
" I appear voluntarily before you, my friends," he said, " as
a substitute for one whom you know. She had promised to
speak to you on a subject to which she has given much earn-
est thought, not so much for her own sake as for that of her
sex. Being unable to fulfil that promise, I have offered to
take her place, not as the representative of her views, or of
the views of any particular association of persons, but as a
man who reveres woman, and who owes her respect in all
cases, though he may not always agree with her assertion of
right. ('Good!' cried some one in the audience.) I stand
between both parties ; between you who denounce the tyranny
of man (turning to Mr. Bemis), and you who meet with con-
tempt and abuse (turning back towards the audience) all earn-
est appeals of woman for a freer exercise of her natural facul-
ties. No true reform grows out of reciprocal denunciation.
When your angry thunders have been launched, and the
opposing clouds dissolve from the exhaustion of their supply,
the sunshine of tolerance and charity shines between, and the
lowering fragments fuse gently togetbjr in the goldeu gleam
of the twilight. Let me speak to you from the neutral ground
of universal humanity ; let me tell you of some wrongs of
woman which none of you need go far to see some lights
which each man of you, to whom God has given a help-meet
4f2 HANNAH THURSTON:
may grant beside his own hearth-stone and the cradle of hii
children ! We Americans boast of our superior civilization ;
we look down with a superb commiseration not only upon the
political, but the social and domestic life of other lands.
Let us not forget that the position which woman holds in the
State always supposing that it does not transcend the des
tiny of her sex is the unerring index on the dial of civiliza
tion. It behooves us, therefore, in order to make good on.
boast, to examine her condition among us. We are famed,
and perhaps justly, for the chivalrous respect which we ex-
hibit towards her in public ; do we grant her an equal con-
sideration in our domestic life ? Do we seek to understand her
finer nature, her more delicate sensibilities, her self-sacrificing
desire to share our burdens by being permitted to understand
them?"
The attention of the audience was profoundly enlisted by
these words. The calm, dispassionate, yet earnest tone of the
speaker was something new. It was an agreeable variation
from the anathemas with which they not only did not sympa-
thize, but which they were too indifferent to resent. Mr. Bemis,
it is true, fidgeted uneasily in his arm-chair, but he was now
quite a secondary person. Woodbury went on to advocate a
private as well as public respect for woman ; he painted, in
strong colors, those moral qualities in which she is superior to
man ; urged her claim to a completer trust, a more genero.ua
confidence on his part ; and, while pronouncing no word that
could indicate an actual sympathy with the peculiar right?
which were the object of the meeting, demanded that they
should receive, at least, a respectful consideration. He
repeated the same manly views which we have already heard
in his conversations with his wife, expressing his faith in the
impossibility of any permanent development not in accordance
with nature, and his confidence that the sex, under whatever
conditions of liberty, would instinctively find its true place.
His address, which lasted nearly an hour, was received wit!
bearty satisfaction by his auditors. To the advocates of th
A STORT OF AMERICAN LlFfi. 453
reform it was a mixture of honey and galk He Lad started,
apparently, from nearly the same point; his path, for a while,
had run parallel with theirs, and then, without any sensible
divergence, had reached a widely different goal. Somehow,
he had taken, in advance, all the strength out of Mr. Chub-
buck's oration ; for, although the latter commenced with an
(,tack on Woodbury's neutral attitude, declaring that "we
cannot serve two masters," the effort was too sophistical to
deceive anybody. His speech, at least, had the effect to
restore Mr. Bemis to good humor. Miss Silsbee, a maiden
lady from Atauga City, was then persuaded to say a few
words. She recommended the audience to " preserve their
individuality : when that is gone, all is gone," said she. " Be
not like the foolish virgins, that left their lamps untrimmed.
O trim your wicks before the eleventh hour comes, and the
Master finds you sleeping !"
There seemed to be but a very remote connection between
these expressions and the doctrine of Women's Rights, and
the audience, much enlivened by the fact, dispersed, after
adopting the customary resolutions by an overwhelming major-
ity. " We have sowed the field afresh," cried Mr. Bemis,
rubbing his hands, as he turned to his friends on the platform,
"in spite of the tares of the Enemy." This was a figurative
allusion to Woodbury.
The latter resisted an invitation to take tea with the Wal-
dos, in order to hurry home to his wife. Mrs. Waldo had
been one of his most delighted hearers, and her parting worda
were : " Remember, if you don't tell Hannah every thing you
said, I shall do it, myself!"
On reaching Lakeside, Hannah came to the door to meet
him. Her troubled expression had passed away, and a deep,
wonderful light of happiness was on her face. Her eyes trem-
bled in their soft splendor, like stars through the veil of falling
dew, and some new, inexpressible grace clung around hei
form. She caught his hands eagerly, and her voice came low
and vibrant with its own sweetness.
454 HANNAH THUESTON:
" Did you take my place, Maxwell ?" she asked.
He laughed cheerfully. " Of course I did. I made the
longest speech of my life. It did not satisfy Bemis, I am sure,
but the audience took it kindly, and you, Hannah, if you had
been there, would have accepted the most of it."
" I know I should !" she exclaimed. " You must tell me all
but not now. Now you must have your reward oh, Max
well, I think I can reward you I"
" Give me another kiss, then."
He stooped and took it. She laid her arms around his neck,
and drew his ear to her lips. Then she whispered a few flut-
tering words. When he lifted his face she saw upon it the
light and beauty of unspeakable joy.
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 455
CHAPTER XXXVI.
IX WHICH THE MAX AND WOMAN COUE TO AX UXDERSTANDING.
WOODBURY, without having intended it, very much increased
his popularity in Ptolemy by the part he had taken in the
meeting. His address was marked by a delicate tact which
enabled him to speak for Woman, on behalf of his wife, while
preserving his own independence of her peculiar views. The
men suspected that her opinions had been modified by his
stronger mind, and that this was the secret of her non-appear-
ance : they were proud that he had conquered the championess.
The women, without exception, were delighted with his
defence of their domestic rights ; most of them had had more
or less experience of that misapprehension of their nature
which he portrayed, and the kindness, the considerate justice
which dictated his words came very gratefully to their ears.
Even Mrs. Hamilton Bue remarked to a neighbor, at the close
of his speech : " Well, if he's learned all that from her, she's
done some good, after all !"
Thus it happened that the marriage came to be regarded
with favor. Ptolemy not only submitted with a good grace
to what was irrevocable, but readily invented a sufficient justi-
fication for it. Hannah found a friendly disposition towards
her, as she began to mingle a little more with the society of
the place : the women, now that they recognized her as one of
themselves, approached her more genially and naturally than
hitherto, and the men treated her with a respect, under which
no reserved hostility was concealed. The phenomenon was
adopted, as is always the case, into the ordinary processes of
nature.
456 HANNAH THUKSTON:
But a new life had commenced at Lakeside, and this and all
other changes in the temper of the community passed unno-
ticed. The spring advanced with a lovelier mystery in every
sprouting germ, in every unfolding bud. In those long, sunny
days when the trodden leaves of the last year stir and rustle
undor the upward pressure of the shooting grass, when new
riolets and buttercups open from hour to hour, and the shim
mering, gauzy tints of the woodlands deepen visibly betweu
dawn and sunset, the husband and wife saw but the external
expression of the rich ripening of their own lives. The season
could not impart its wonted tender yearnings, for they slept
in the bliss of the possession they had only prefigured before,
but it brought, in place of them, a holier and more wonderful
promise. Here, the wife's nature at last found a point of
repose : around this secret, shining consciousness, the strug-
gling elements ranged themselves in harmonious forms. A
power not her own, yet inseparable from both, and as welcome
as it was unforeboded, had usurped her life, and the remem-
brance of the most hardly- won triumphs which her mind had
ever achieved grew colorless and vain.
By the end of May the cottage for Bute was completed. It
was all that Downing had promised from the design, except in
regard to the expense, which was nearly double his estimate.
However, it formed a very picturesque feature in the fore-
ground of the landscape from Lakeside, and was conveniently
situated for the needs of the farm. It was a day of jubilee for
Bute and Carrie when they took possession of it. Mrs. Waldo
must needs be present at the migration, and assist with her
advice in the arrangement of the furniture. Fortunately, the
little " best room" had but two windows, and Mrs. Wilson's
dream of the chintz curtains was realized. Bute had bought
ft brownish ingrain carpet, somewhat worn, at an auction sale
in Ptolemy, for a very trifling sum ; and in addition to the por-
traits of General and Lady Washington, which Mrs. Babb had
inherited from Jason, and bequeathed to him in turn, Wood
bury had given him a splendidly-colored lithograph of an
A STUKY OF AJUJiltlCAN J.1FE. 457
**Amerhan Homestead," with any quantity of cattle and
poultry. It is impossible to describe the pride of Sirs. Wilson
in this room. One window commanded a cheerful view of the
valley towards Ptolemy, while the white front of Lakeside
louked in at the other. Bute had surrounded the looking-glasa
and picture-frames with wreaths of winter-green, which
reminded Woodbury of his impromptu ball-room in the B >w
ery, and in the fireplace stood a huge pitcher filled with
asparagus, blossoming lilacs, and snow-balls. It was Mrs.
Wilson's ambition to consecrate the house by inviting them all
to tea, and a very pleasant party they were.
"When the guests had left, and the happy tenants found
themselves alone, the little wife exclaimed : " Oh, Bute, to
think that we should have a house of our own !"
"Yes," said he, "'" our'n, jist as much as though we
owned it, as long as we think so. Property's pretty much in
thinkin\ onless you've got to raise money on it. I know
\vhen I'm well off, and if you'll hitch teams with me in savin',
Carrie, we can leastways put back all the interest, and it'll roll
up as fast as we want it."
" You'll see, Bute," his wife answered, with a cheerful de-
termination; "it's a life that will suit me so much better than
sewing around from house to house. I'll raise chickens and
O
turkeys, and we can sell what we don't want ; and then there's
(lie garden; and the cow; and we won't spend much for
clothes. I wish you'd let me make yours, Bute ; I'm sure I
could do it as well as Seth Wattles."
The grin on Bute's face broadened, as he listened to tho
lively little creature, and when she stopped speaking, he took.
!>er around the waist by both arms and lilted her into the air.
She was not alarmed at this proceeding, fur she kuv.\v sh(;
would come down gently, getting a square, downright kiss
on the way. Never were two persons better satisfied witL
each oilier.
At Lakeside there were also changes and improvements
The garden was remodelled, the gnnujds were extended, and
90
468 HANXAH TUUKSTOfcJ
fresh consignments of trees and plants continually amvert frorii
the Rochester nurseries. Both Woodbury and his wife
delighted in the out-door occupation which these changes gs *
and the spring deepened into summer before they were aware.
To a thoroughly cultivated man, there is no life compared tc
chat of the country, with its independent. , its healthy enjoy-
ments, its grateful repose provided that he is so situated that
his intellectual needs can be satisfied. Woodbury's life in
Calcutta had accustomed him to seek this satisfaction iu him-
self, or, at best, to be content with few friends. In Hannah,
he had now the eager, sympathetic companion of his mind, no
less than the partner of his affections. The newest literature
came to him regularly from New York and Boston, and there
was no delight greater than to perceive how rapidly her tastes
and her intellectual perceptions matured with the increase of
her opportunities of culture.
The tender secret which bound them so closely soothed her
heart for the time, without relieving its need of the expression
and the answer which still failed. His watchful fondness was
always around her, folding her more closely and warmly, day
by day ; but he still seemed to assert, in her name, that free-
dom which her love no longer demanded nay, which stood
between her and the fulfilment of her ideal union with him.
She craved that uncalculating passion which is as ready to
ask as to give the joy of mutual demand and mutual surren-
der. The calm, deep, and untroubled trust which filled his
nature was not enough. Perhaps love, she thought, in the
self poised, self-controlled being of ma7i, takes this form; per
haps it lies secure and steadfast below the tender agitations,
the passionate impulses, the voiceful yearnings which stir the
soul of woman. If so, she must be content'; but one thing
she must yet do, to satisfy the conscience of love. She must
disabuse liis mind of the necessity of granting her that inde-
pendence which she had iguorantly claimed ; she must confess
to him the truer consciousness of her woman's nature; and
it' her tuuid heart would allow she must ouce, though only
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 459
Dnce, put in words all the passionate devotion of her heart
for him.
The days went by, the fresh splendor of the foliage
darkened, the chasing billows of golden grain drifted away
and left a strand of tawny stubble behind, and the emerald
bunches on the trellises at Lakeside began to gather an
tmethystine bloom. And the joy, and the fear, and the
mystery increased, and the shadow of a coming fate, bright
with the freshest radiance of Heaven, or dark with unhnagiued
desolation but which, no one could guess lay upon the
household. Woodbury had picked up in the county paper,
published at Tiberius, a little poem by Stoddard, of which
these lines clung to his memory and would not be banished :
" The laden summer will giro me
What it never gave before,
Or take from me what a thousand
Summers can give no more I"
Thus, as the approach of Death is not an nnminglod sorrow,
the approach of Life is not an nnmingled joy. But, as we
rarely breathe, even to those we best love, the fear that at
such times haunts our hearts, chased away as soon as recog-
nized, so to her he was always calm and joyfully confident.
September came, and fiery touches of change were seen on
the woods. The tuberoses she had planted in the spring
poured from their creamy cups an intoxicating dream of the
isles of nutmeg-orchards and cinnamon-groves ; the strong,
ripe blooms of autumn lined the garden walks, and the breath
of the imprisoned wine dimmed the purple crystal of the
grapes. Then, one morning, there was a hushed gliding to
nd fro in the mansion of Lakeside ; there was anxious wait-
Ing in the shaded rooms ; there were heart -wrung prayers,
as the shadows of the different fates sank lower upon the
house, and fitfully shifted, like the rapid, alternate variations
of cloud and sunshine in a broken sky. Death stood by to
dispute the consummation of life ; but. as the evening drew
460 HANXAH THURSTON:
on, a faint, wailing cry of victory was heard, and Life had
triumphed.
Woodbury's strong nature was shaken to its centre, both
by the horrible weight of the fears which had been growing
ipon him throughout the day, and the lightning-flash of over-
whelming gladness which dispersed them. As he took the
helpless, scarcely human creature in his arms, and bent his
fcce over it, his tears fell fast. He knelt beside the bed, and
held it before the half-closed eyes of the mother, who lay
silent, pale, as if flung back, broken, from the deeps of Death.
The unfeeling authority which reigned in the chamber drove
him away. The utmost caution, the most profound repose,
was indispensable, the physician said. All night long he
watched in the next room, slowly gathering hope from the
whispered bulletins of the nurse. In the morning, he left his
post for a little while, but soon returned to it. But a single
'interview was granted that day, and he was forbidden to
speak. He could only take his wife's hand, and look upon
the white, saintly beauty of her face. She smiled faintly, with
a look of ineffable love, which he could not bear unmoved, and
he was forbidden to agitate her.
Gradually the severity of the orders was relaxed, and he
was allowed to enter the room occasionally, in a quiet way,
and look upon the unformed features of his son. The mother
was slowly gaining strength, and the mere sight of hor hus-
band was so evident a comfort to her that it ^ould not now
be denied. In the silent looks they interchanged there was a
profounder language than they had yet spoken. In him, tlm
strong agitation of the man's heart made itself felt through th*
mask of his habitual calm ; in her, the woman's all-yielding love
.confessed its existence, and pleaded for recognition. Wood-
bury, too grateful for the fact that the crisis of imminent
danger was slowly passing away, contented himself with these
voiceless interviews, and forcibly shut for a while within his
heart the words of blessing and of cheer which he longed to
utter.
A STORY OF AMEBICAfl ^iirB. 461
On the fifth day the physician said to him : " She is now
safe, with the ordinary precautions. I have* perhaps been a
little over-despotic, because I know "the value of the life al
stake. You have been patient and obedient, and you shall
have your reward. You may see her as often as you like, and
I will allow you to talk, on condition that you break off on
the lc % ast appearance of fatigue."
After his departure, Woodbury, glad at heart, hastened to
his wife's chamber. She lay perfectly still, and the curtains
were drawn to shield her face from the light. " She is asleep,"
^aid the nurse.
" Leave me a while here, if you please," said he, " I will
watch until she wakes."
The nurse left the room. He knelt beside the cradle, and
bent over the sleeping babe, giving way, undisturbed by a
watching eye, to the blissful pride of a father's heart. Pres-
ently his eyes overflowed with happy tears, and be whis-
pered to the unconscious child : " Richard 1 my son, my dar-
ling!"
The babe stirred and gave out a broken wail of waking.
He moved the cradle gently, still murmuring : *' Richard, my
darling ! God make me worthy to possess tliee !"
But he was not unseen ; he was not unheard. Hannah's
light slumber had been dissolved by the magnetism of his
presence, but so gently that her consciousness of things, re-
turning before the awaking of the will, impressed her like a
more distinct dream. As in a dream, through her partially-
closed lids, she saw her husband kneel beside the cradle. She
saw the dim sparkle of his tears, as they fell upon the child ;
she heard his soliloquy of love and gratitude heard him call
ihnt child by her father's name ! Her mother's words flashed
across her mind with a meaning which she had never thought
of applying to her own case. Her father, too, had wept over
his lirst-born ; in his heart passion had smouldered with in-
tensest heat under a deceitful calm ; and her mother had only
learned to know him when the knowlc lu'c r:uuc too lute. To
462 HANNAH THUR8TON :
nersolf, that knowledge had come now : she had caught on
glimpse of her husband's heart, when he supposed that only
God's ear had beard him. In return for that sacred, though
involuntary confession, she would voluntarily make one aa
sacred. The duty of a woman gave her strength ; the dignity
of a mother gave her conrage.
When the babe was again lulled into quiet, she gentlj
called: "Maxwell!"
He rose, came to the bed, softly put his arms around her,
and laid his lips to hers. " My dear wife," he said.
" Maxwell, I have seen your heart," she whispered ; " would
you see mine ? Do you recollect what you asked me that
afternoon, in the meadows not whether I loved, but whether
I could love ? You have never repeated the other question
since."
" There was no need to ask," said he ; "I saw it answered."
"My dear husband, do you not know that feeling, in a
woman, must be born through speech, and become a living
joy, instead of lying as a happy, yet anxious weight beneath
the heart? Maxwell, the truth has been on my tongue a
thousand times, waiting for some sign of encouragement from
you ; but you have been so careful to keep the promise which
I accepted nay, almost exacted, I fear that you could not
see what a burden it had become to me. You have been too
just to me; your motive was generous and noble: I complain
of myself only in having made it necessary. You did right to
trust to the natural development of my nature through my
better knowledge of life ; but, oh, can you not see that the
development is reached? Can you not feel that you arc
released from a duty towards me which is inconsistent witb
love ?"
"Dc you release me willingly, my wife?" he cried, an eager
light coming into his eyes. "I have always felt that you were
carried to me by a current against wliich you struggled. I
could not resist the last wish of your mother, though I should
never, alone, have dared to hasten our union. I would hav
A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE. 464
Baited \* oiud have given you time to know your heart tinu
to feel that the only true freedom for man or woman is reach-
ed through the willing submission of love."
" jgnorant as I was," she answered, " I might never have
come to that knowledge. I should have misunderstood the
ubmission, and fought against it to the last. Mother was
ight. She knew me better than I knew myself. Maxwell,
will you take back your promise of independence ? Will you
cease to allow that cold spectre of justice to come between
our hearts ?"
"Tell me why you ask it ?" said he.
" Because I love you ! Because the dream whose hopeless-
ness made my heart sick has taken your features, and is no more
a dream, but a blessed, blessed truth ! Ask yourself what that
means, and you will understand me. If you but knew how I
have pined to discover your wish, in order that I might follow
it ! You have denied me the holiest joy of love the joy of
sacrifice. As you have done it for my sake, so for my sake
abandon the unfair obligation. Think what you would most
desire to receive from the woman you love, and demand that
of me !"
" My darling, I have waited for this hour, but I could not
seem to prematurely hasten it. I have held back my arms
when they would have clasped you ; I have turned away my
eyes, lest they might confuse you by some involuntary attrac-
tion ; I have been content with silence, les>, the voice of my love
might have seemed to urge the surrender which your heart
must first suggest. Do you forgive me, now, for the pitiless
passion with which I stormed you ?"
"There is your forgiveness," she murmured, through her
fears, pointing to the cradle.
lie tenderly lifted the sleeping babe, and laid it upon hei
bosom. Then he knelt down at the bed, and bent his face
upon the pillow, beside her own. " Darling," he whispered, "I
accept ;ill that you give: I take the full measure of your love,
in its sacred integrity. If any question of our mutual right*
464 HANNAH Nil UhToN.
remain, I lay it in these precious little hands, warm with th
ne\v life in which our beings have become one."
" And they will forever lead me back to the tnie path, if '
ihorJd sometimes wander from it," was her answer.
VHS
UCSB LIBRARY
A 000 525 454 5
I