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The World's Greatest
Short Stories
The "World's Best" Series
EDITED BT
SHERWIN CODY
A Selection from the World's
Greatest Short Stories.
A Selection from the Best
English Essays.
The Best Poems and Essays
OF Edgar Allan Poe.
The Best Tales of Edgar
Allan Poe.
A Selection from the World's
Great Orations.
A Selection from the Great
English Poets.
Limp cloth. Gilt top. Per vol., $1.20
A SELECTION from t/je
WORLD'S GREATEST
SHORT STORIES
ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE HISTORY
OF SHORT STORY WRITING
mTH CRITICAL AND HISTORICAL COMMENTS
By SHE R WIN ^ODY
EDITOR OF ''A SELECTION FROM THE BEST
ENGLISH ESSAYS," AND AUTHOR OF "THE ART OF
WRITING ar SPEAKING THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE"
SIXTEENTH EDITION
CHICAGO . A. C. McCLURG
eff COMPANY . MCMXVin
Copyright
By a. C. McClurg & Co.
A.D. 1902
Published April, 1902
Second edition, August i, 1903
Third edition, May i, 1904
Fourth edition, October i, 1905
Fifth edition, October 20, 1906
Sixth edition, November 15, 1908
Seventh edition, November 13, 1909
Eighth edition, April 30, 1910
Ninth edition, May 13, 191 1
Tenth edition, February 28, 1913
Eleventh edition, September 23, 1913
Twelfth edition, October I, 1915
Thirteenth edition, April 30, 1916
Fourteenth edition, October zo, 1916
Fifteenth edition, April 25, 1917
Sixteenth edition, March 30, 1918
UNIVERSITY PRESS • JOHN WILSON
AND SON • CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.
P/V6^/4
Contents
\
Page
Preface ii
Introduction l^
I. Patient Griselda, from the " Decameron^*
of Boccaccio. Rewritten in English by the
Editor 27
//. Aladdin., or the Wonderful Lamp^ from
^^The Arabian Nights'" 43
///. Rip Van Winkle^ by Washington Irving . 105
IV. A Passion in the Desert, by Honor S de
Balzac. Translated from the French by
the Editor 133
V. A Child^s Dream of a Star, by Charles
Dickens •••^55
VI. A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens . . 165
VII. A Princesses Tragedy, from " Barry Lyn-
don,^^ by W. M. Thackeray 209
VIII. The Gold- Bug, by Edgar Allan Poe . . . 237
IX. The Great Stone Face, by Nathaniel Haw-
thorne 289
ivi897553
lo Contents
X. The Necklace^ and The Strings by Guy de
Maupassant. Translated from the French
by the Editor . . . . * 319
XI. The Man Who Would Be King, by Rudyard
Kipling 345
XII. How Gavin Birse Put It to Mag Lownie,
from ''A Window in Thrums,'' by f. M.
Barrie y^t
XIII On the Stairs, from " Tales of Mean Streets,'''
by Arthur Morrison 407
1
PREFACE
THE stories contained in this volume have
been selected with the specific view of
illustrating the history of the art of short
story writing, and of affording suitable examples
for the study of the constructive side of the art.
No person can read any short story critically and
intelligently without an elementary knowledge of
both these subjects. It has been said that an
appreciative reader recreates an artistic story
or poem, following in the footsteps of the artist.
Obviously this cannot be done without an ele-
mentary knowledge of the art on its constructive
side. Many schools and colleges, as well as nu-
merous contributors to the magazines, now under-
take to give some outline of this subject, and it is
believed that a book like the present volume will
prove useful alike to the student at home and the
student in organized classes ; and the editor trusts
that the general reader will not find the volume
wholly lacking in entertainment.
When the editor of this volume six or seven
years ago put forth (anonymously) the first sys-
tematic treatise on the art of story writing (** The
Art of Short Story Writing,"^ New York ; '' How
1 Reprinted in " The Art of Writing and Speaking the English
Language."
1 2 Preface
to Write Fiction," London), the critics were about
equally divided between brief commendation of
the volume and lengthy condemnation of the
idea of analyzing and teaching the art of fiction
at all. But a great change has been wrought since
then. The University of Chicago established a
course in short story writing. Numerous maga-
zine writers offered themselves as expounders of
the art ; and the confessions of successful novelists
and short story writers were freely recorded. The
author of the volume above referred to soon real-
ized what small scope there was for a volume pro-
fessedly written to instruct the professional writer,
but how large and important was the work of assist-
ing the general reader to a more intelligent reading
of fiction. Only by raising the critical standard
of the great body of readers can the standard for
writers of fiction be raised. So almost from the
start this volume has been working itself out.
The first definite list of the world's masterj^ieces
of short story writing which came in the editor's
way was one suggested during an hour's chat] with
Mr. W. E. Henley, in 1895. Among the yjoung
writers in London at that time, Mr. Henley' (for a
number of years editor of the National Observer)
was considered the best judge of a really good
short story, and the best critic. Kipling, Barrie,
Gilbert Parker, Arthur Morrison, H. D. Lowry,
Kenneth Grahame, and many others were proud
to acknowledge him as their teacher and master,
in some cases their discoverer. Mr. Henley's
Preface 1 3
opinions have been supplemented by suggestions
from Arlo Bates, Edmund Gosse, Brander Mat-
thews, and contributors to various discussions of
the short story which have occurred in the public
prints.
On some of the stories all competent judges will
agree, on a few a majority will agree, and on the
remainder hardly any critic will agree with any
other critic as to relative rank. For the purposes
of this volume the editor feels that he is in duty
bound to follow his own best judgment, not ex-
pecting or even hoping that every one will agree
with him in his omissions and inclusions, but
trusting that as a whole the volume will not be
deemed altogether unworthy.
All will probably agree in placing " Patient
Griselda," '' Aladdin's Lamp," '' Rip Van Winkle,"
** A Passion in the Desert," and " The Gold
Bug " among the world's masterpieces. From
Dickens Mr. Henley would have selected " Bar-
box Brothers " in " Mugby Junction ; " but the
editor has chosen "A Christmas Carol" (using the
shorter version arranged by Dickens himself for
his American readings) because it is so indisput-
ably great in its good humor and its appeal to
the heart, though otherwise full of faults, and
** A Child's Dream of a Star" because it so well
represents the element of pathetic sentiment, in
which Dickens particularly excelled, and because
the story is very short and at the same time popu-
lar. Very short stories were not common in the
14 Preface
old days, though to-day they are so universal. *^ A
Princess's Tragedy," which forms a chapter in
" Barry Lyndon," was suggested by Mr. Henley,
and is here presented as unquestionably one of the
finest short stories Thackeray ever wrote. " Barry
Lyndon " as a novel has never been popular, and, so
far as the editor is aware, the story of ** The Prin-
cess's Tragedy " has not before been set forth for
what it is really worth. Seldom do we find such
an example of the power of restraint in a simple
narrative of intensely tragic character. Some
critics select " The Birthmark " as Hawthorne's
masterpiece, but the popular verdict has fixed
unalterably upon ** The Great Stone Face," and
the editor profoundly agrees with the choice. The
best stories of Maupassant (" Boule de Suif " and
" La Maison Tellier ") are not suitable for English
pubHcation ; but nearly all the critics agree that
"La Ficelle" Q' The String") is a genuine master-
piece. *' The Necklace " has been included because
it illustrates in so simple and obviou^ a manner
the various elements in an artistic storjj, and thus
forms a suitable paradigm for the stuay of con-
structive fiction. ** The Man Who Would Be
King" is the universal choice of the younger
friends of Mr. Kipling in London, though " With-
out Benefit of Clergy" and '' Drums of the Fore
and Aft" contend with it in popularity. Most
critics grant the superior art of " A Window in
Thrums," and the chapter selected is a short story
enchanting in its humor. " On the Stairs," by
Preface 15
Arthur Morrison, is not a great story, but it illus-
trates admirably the clever technic of the younger
writers.
It will be observed that but three selections have
been made from current or comparatively recent
writers. The editor regrets that he cannot include
Stevenson's '* A Lodging for the Night" or "Will
o' the Mill," Miss Mary E. Wilkins's " The Scent
of Roses " or '' The Revolt of Mother," Edward
Everett Hale's "The Man Without a Country,"
Bret Harte's " The Luck of Roaring Camp," and
one or more selections from Thomas Hardy's
"Life's Little Ironies." Stockton's "The Lady
or the Tiger?" is an admirable example of an
interesting type, but scarcely a great story. Of
stories by foreign writers, apologies for omission
are due above all to Turgenieff, who may be
spoken of as a " current " writer, in the sense that
excellent translations are only lately making him
known to English readers. His short stories excel
those even of Tolstoi.
" The Great Stone Face," by Nathaniel Haw-
thorne, is used by special arrangement with and
permission of Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin, & Co.,
the authorized publishers of Hawthorne's works.
Similar acknowledgments are due to Messrs. G. P.
Putnam's Sons for Irving's " Rip Van Winkle," to
Messrs. Little, Brown, Si Co. for Arthur Morrison's
" On the Stairs," and to Messrs. Harper & Brothers,
the first publishers of a translation of the stories by
Maupassant used in this book.
1
INTRODUCTION
UNTIL the advent of Mr. Kipling the pub
lication of volumes of short stories was
never considered profitable by English
publishers. In France the beginning of the new
era of the short story dates much farther back, and
from the time of Beaudelaire's translations of Poe's
stories, short story writing has ranked as an inde-
pendent art. Although we may fairly say that
modern fiction began with the short stories of the
Decameron and the Arabian Nights, short story
ivriting as a special art made no progress until Poe
and Hawthorne. All the novelists occasionally
wrote short stories, and the rising tide of modern
fiction bore the short story steadily along with it ;
but as even to-day there is no definite art of novel-
writing, so until a half century ago the writers of
short stories were quite unconscious of any special
art of short story writing. In recent years, how-
ever, the art of the short story has developed into
something very definite indeed. It has come to be
a matter of conscious art almost as much as poetry,
or the drama, or sculpture. Laws have been dis-
covered which the short story writer must obey.
In novel-writing this is not the case as yet. No
1 8 . Introduction
one can say that a genius may not arise who will
violate all the assumed laws of novel-construction,
and yet produce a story as successful as any that
has ever been published. Of the fixed arts, such
as sculpture, painting, and music, we can make no
such statement as that ; and now it would be un-
true of short story writing.
In works of art there are always two things to
be distinguished, — the subject-matter, and the form
into which that matter is wrought by the hand of
the artist. The artistic work of a genius is rated
great, as the general public counts greatness, ac-
cording to the depth and variety of the knowledge
of human nature displayed. Knowledge of human
nature is the gold which is to be worked into a
form of beauty, it is the diamond which is to be
cut and polished. Art is that which forms the gold
into a thing of use and beauty; it is that which
reveals the natural beauty of the diamond to the
ordinary observer. A good form, a true art, dis-
plays the precious object ^o the best advantage.
Art alone — that is, skill im displaying knowledge
of human nature to advantage — is of no value
unless there is knowledge to be displayed. But a
little set forth with skill is of more practical utility
than a great deal presented badly, or without art ;
we may even imagine that a lack of art might de-
bar the greatest genius the world has ever seen (so
far as real knowledge of human nature is con-
cerned) from making the least impression on his
fellow men. So after all-, art — or skill in shaping
Introduction 19
and presenting — is as absolutely essential as orig-
inal knowledge of human nature. Those two are
the essential principles of human progress, without
whose marriage there can be no children of the
imagination ; indeed no growth of the human soul
in the things of beauty, in the joys and sorrows of
the emotions of the mind, in that whole section of
human existence which we have marked out and
roughly named " the realm of art."
The absolute equality and complete interdepend-
ence of these two great forces in the movements
"of the world's thought, popularly referred to as art
and genius, have been but imperfectly recognized
by the majority of critics. We have the staunch
defenders of genius, who say that *' the poet is
born, not made," — which is perfectly true if re-
garded simply as a way of emphasizing one side
of the question, — and we have the devotees of
Art, who invariably write the word in capitals, and
seem to believe that there is nothing else in life.
The fact is, both genius and art are utterly barren
unless united, and the greatness to which they give
birth is usually measured by the harmony and
completeness of their union.
Though in a perfect work of art subject-matter
and form are so perfectly blended that we think of
neither separately, yet for critical purposes it is
well to keep them rigidly separated ; and one or
two preHminary remarks on each will facilitate our
study.
; First, the world grows in knowledge of human
20 Introduction
nature and the philosophy of life as steadily as in
other directions, and a story of transcendent in-
terest to one age becomes the merest common-
place to the next. In time the world will outgrow
even Shakespeare, as it has in part already out-
grown Virgil and Homer; but the historical stu-
dent views these men in the light of the effect
their works have had upon the world in its prog-
ress. It is impossible to measure them with
perfect accuracy until their influence is largely a
matter of the past. The fact is, we cannot under-
stand genius till we have grown up to it, and of
course then it has ceased to become the light and
inspiration that it once was ; and the brilliancy of
the light that is still our inspiration we are not in
a position to measure critically. We must re-
member this in reading the present volume. Very
likely the common reader will find the stories that
are known to be the greatest a little tiresome, be-
cause these stories are so old that the world has
outgrown them ; and hf will like best some of the
more modern stories ivhich the judicious critic
would place very low. jThe editor of this volume
has tried to make it of value both to the historical
student and to the common reader; and this effort
has fallen in naturally with the logical plan of the
book.
So much for the subject-matter : let us now turn
to the art side.
There are two kinds of art, conscious and un-
conscious. When the knights-errant of genius
Introduction 21
cry, **The poet is born, not made," they by no
means intend to imply that form is nothing : they
are thinking, " Genius invents its own forms un-
consciously, which are far superior to the forms
selected by the conscious artist who is uninspired
by genius." They ignore the conscious artist who
is inspired by genius, for there is nothing at all in-
compatible between conscious art and genius. The
fact is, however, that the history of nearly every
special art is that at first its forms are unconscious,
or, let us say, experimental ; and as in its evolution
it draws near to perfection and its possibilities are
realized to the full, very nearly all its practitioners
become conscious artists. Moreover, as soon as
the possibilities of an art are realized to the full,
that art begins to decline, and new arts arise to take
its place. So it happens that we are likely to find
the unconscious artists associated with the rise of
an art, and the conscious artists associated with
its decline ; but at the height of the progress we
find one great conscious artist who overshadows all
others, conscious or unconscious. Such an artist
in dramatic poetry was Shakespeare.
Short story writing is but a branch of the larger
art of fiction which comprehends the novel, and
though short story writing has become a conscious
art, we find no supreme artist in it who is also a
supreme genius. Novel-writing as an art is still in
the unconscious stage, and we may yet have our
Shakespeare of fiction. In the history of short
story writing Maupassant is probably the supreme
22 Introduction
conscious artist, but he is a genius of no such
caHbre as Poe or Hawthorne. Poe probably
comes nearer than any other story-writer to
being our great conscious artist and genius com-
bined ; but Poe's powers as a story-writer are too
limited in scope to entitle him to any position
which we may call supreme. Hawthorne was also
a conscious artist in part, and his field of success
is just that portion of the great field which Poe
left untouched. Together they mark the begin-
ning of the modern conscious and fixed art of
short story writing. Hence we may claim this art
as fairly American ; and this justly encourages us
to hope that the future perfect form of the novel
will spring from America.
The peculiarity of the unconscious artist is that
he perfects some one phase of the complete art.
A collection of the best works of the unconscious
period will give us in striking form all the different
elements of the complete artistic story. In it we
find pure types of character-study, of lofty atmo-
sphere, of moral instruction, of plot. For this
reason a collection of masterpieces of short story
writing, such as the present volume, affords the
best possible examples for study of the construc-
tive side of fiction, as well as the historical side.
Observing the unconscious steps by which the
world learned the art of short story writing, we
may not unnaturally conceive that these are the
steps by which the individual learns the conscious
art. What the editor conceives these -steps to
Introduction 23
be, alike in the historical progress of the art and
in the evolution of the individual artist, will be
indicated in the introductions to the successive
stories.
SHERWIN CODY.
Chicago,
January, 1902.
PATIENT GRISELDA
THE
WORLD'S GREATEST
SHORT STORIES
PATIENT GRISELDA
FROM
THE DECAMERON OF BOCCACCIO
INTRODUCTORY
THE ORIGIN OF THE MODERN LOVE STORY
FOR practical purposes the history of the
modern short story begins with the De-
cameron (1348). It was a volume of one
hundred tales, which Boccaccio collected from the
taverns and the wayside and turned into the most
perfect Italian for the amusement of his king and
queen. He was ten years in doing it, and never
cared to connect his name with the work. But it
is the Decameron that made Boccaccio famous.
" New book out — good story ! " we say to each
other nowadays on publication of a popular novel,
and the one who has n't read it rushes off to buy
the book and devour it. In the days of Boccaccio
people whispered about the villages, "Traveller at
the inn to-night ; has some good stories, they say."
L
28 Greatest Short Stories
Then every one who wished to be amused crowded
into the main room of the tavern, and the dis-
tinguished traveller became the popular novelist.
Boccaccio did not originate a single story in the
Decameron. He merely retold in the choicest
Italian the stories he heard at the inns as he
journeyed about.
In those days when there were no newspapers,
few theatres, and fewer books, life must have been
dull indeed. The arrival of a traveller at the vil-
lage inn was like a breath of fresh air admitted
into a close room. Such conditions gave zest to
travelling. The man who could tell a story was
sure of an eager audience wherever he went, and
if he liked the clatter of applause, he knew there
was no better way to get it than this. So the pro-
fessional traveller became the professional story-
teller. He got up his stories with all the art he
could muster, and would go a long distance out of
his way to hear a good tale, that he might tell it after-
wards himself. In this way certain stories became
widely popular, and they came to be told with great
skill. The tellers studied their audiences, they
learned what interested their hearers, what touched
their emotions, and so became adepts in the art of
playing on the feelings of their fellows.
No form of literary art ever had so democratic
an origin as fiction. Just fancy what the literary
critics of to-day, even, would say to a collection of
one hundred bar-room yarns ! And when poetry,
history, and philosophy were the only recognized
Patient Griselda 29
forms of literary art, how much more contemptible
would these gossiping tales appear to be !
The Decameron is the beginning of the modern
love-story. For the first time woman held the
place of chief interest. Most of the stories are
so grossly immoral and vulgar that they are un-
readable to-day ; but that only illustrates the gen-
eral advancement in public taste and morals. In
Boccaccio's time any of his stories might be told
in a lady's drawing-room with perfect propriety.
By long odds the most popular of Boccaccio's
hundred tales is that of Patient Griselda, and
strangely enough, it is the most highly moral
story of them all. Chaucer heard it from the
poet Petrarch and used it in his Canterbury
Tales. Soon after its publication it appeared in
France in thirty different forms.
In this story we have a simple tale, of a purely
narrative character. Prose has its rhythm as well
as music and poetry, and in " Patient Griselda " we
find a long, gentle undulation (which the translator
has endeavored to imitate in the English), and a
total absence of the staccato-like variations of the
more modern short story. There is no strained
sentiment, no special attempt at ** atmosphere,"
and the speeches of the various characters vary
in style in no respect from the narrative portions
of the story. The whole, however, presents an
example of chaste simplicity which has never been
surpassed, and seldom equalled. Cur ideas of
women have so far advanced that we have no
30 Greatest Short Stories
patience with Griselda's conduct, and on that
account find the story a trifle tiresome ; but any-
modern writer who would revert to the gentle and
unruffled method of story-telling employed by
Boccaccio would be astonished at the power he
would find in such a style.
PATIENT GRISELDA
[Rewritten in English by the Editor]
LONG ago there was a certain marquis of Saluzzo,
Gualtieri or Walter by name, who seemed to have
made up his mind to remain a bachelor. He did nothing
but hawk and hunt, and never dreamed of encumbering
himself with a wife and children. In that he was no
doubt very wise ; but his subjects did not view the matter
in the same light, and often urged him to marry, that he
might not be left without an heir, or they without a lord.
They said they stood ready to provide a lady from such a
family that she would not be likely to disappoint their
hopes, nor give him reason to be dissatisfied with their
choice.
"Worthy friends," he replied, "you ask me to do a
thing I had fully made up my mind never to venture
upon, considering how difficult it is to find the kind of
person one would wish for a wife. You must admit there
is a great abundance of the kind one would not wish ; and
I know of no lot more miserable than to be tied to a
disagreeable woman.
"The idea of judging a woman's temper by her family,
or in that way choosing a wife that will please me, strikes
me as quite a ridiculous fancy. Apart from the fact
that one never knows who their fathers are, we know
Patient Griselda 31
very well how few daughters resemble either father or
mother.
" For all that, as you are so anxious to see me noosed,
I will agree. But that I may have no one to blame but
myself should it turn out amiss, 1 will choose for myself;
but I swear, let me marry whom I will, unless you show
her the respect due to my wife, you shall know, to your
sorrow, what a responsibility you assume in urging me to
marry against my inclination."
The worthy deputation of citizens bowed low and re-
plied that they were satisfied, provided only that he
would make the trial.
Now the marquis had already taken a fancy to a poor
country girl who lived in a small village not far from his
palace. Thinking that he might live as comfortably with
her as with any one, he decided to look no farther, but
make her his wife. So he sent for her father, who was
a very poor man, and told him what he purposed to do.
Then he summoned his subjects and said to them :
" Gentlemen, it was and is your desire that I take a
wife. I do it rather to please you than out of any Hking
I have for matrimony. You will remember that you
promised to be satisfied with my choice, whoever she
might be, and to pay her due respect. I am now ready
to fulfil my side of the bargain, and I expect you to do
likewise. In a near-by village I have found a young
woman after my own heart. I intend to marry her and
bring her home in a few days. See that you honor
my nuptials and respect her as your sovereign lady, that
I may be as well satisfied with the fulfilment of your
promise as you have reason to be with that of mine."
The people declared themselves well pleased, and re-
newed their promise to accept her as their mistress, who-
ever she might be. So everything was made ready for a
32 Greatest Short Stories
noble feast, and the prince invited all his relations and
the great lords from all the surrounding provinces. He
also had a number of rich dresses made on a model that
seemed to be about the size of his intended spouse, and
provided a girdle, a ring, and a fine coronet, with every-
thing requisite for a bride.
When the appointed day arrived, about the third hour he
mounted his horse, attended by all his friends and vassals.
" My lords and gentlemen," he said, " we will now go
for my new spouse."
So they rode into the next village, and when they came
near the father's house, the marquis saw his bride carry-
ing water in great haste, that she might be ready to go
with some of her friends to see the new marchioness.
He called her by her name Griselda, and asked where
her father was. She replied modestly :
" My gracious lord, he is in the house."
So the marquis alighted, and commanding them all
to wait, went alone into the cottage, where he found
Giannucolo, Griselda's father.
" My good man," said he, ''I am come to marry thy
daughter ; but I should like first to ask her a few ques-
tions before thee." ^ He then asked if she would try, to
the best of her ability, to please him and not be uneasy
at any time, whatever he might say or do ; and more to
the same effect. To all she answered " Yes."
He then led her out by the hand and made her
strip before them all, and ordering up the rich dresses
he had provided, clothed her completely and set the
coronet upon her disordered hair, to the amazement of
all.
"Behold," said he, "the person I have chosen for
1 This form was used with inferiors. The forms " you " and
" yours " were employed toward superiors.
Patient Griscida 33
my wife, provided she^will accept me for her husband."
Then turning toward the abashed girl he asked :
" Will you have me for your husband? "
She replied, " Yes, if it so please your lordship."
" Well said ! " he exclaimed. " I take you for my
wife."
In this public manner he married her, and mounting
her on a palfrey led the way back to the palace. The
wedding was celebrated with as much pomp and grandeur
as if he had taken to wife the daughter of the King of
France ; and apparently the young bride had exchanged
both her mind and her behavior with her garments. She
was good-looking and amiable, and had the bearing
rather of a lord's daughter than a poor shepherd's, a fact
that astonished every one who had previously known her.
As for her husband, he found her so obedient and obliging
in every way that he thought himself the happiest man in
the world. To her subjects, likewise, she was so gracious
and considerate that they all honored her and loved her,
praying for her health and happiness, and declaring that
after all Gualtieri was a shrewder fellow than they had
given him credit for being. Who else would have dis-
covered so many virtues under so mean a dress ?
Before they had been married long she proved to be
with child, and she gave birth to a daughter, for which he
made great rejoicings.
But now the marquis developed a new fancy. He
made up his mind to make trial of his wife's patience by
long and intolerable sufferings. He spoke harshly to her,
and affected to be weary of her. He told her his sub-
jects murmured at her mean parentage, and at the ide;»
of her being the mother of his daughter.
She listened to these unkind words without a change of
countenance, and quietly replied :
3
34 Greatest Short Stories
" My lord, pray dispose of me as- you think most proper
for your honor and happiness. I know that I am meaner
than the meanest of your people, and that I was quite
unworthy of the dignity to which your favor was pleased
to raise me."
This pleased the marquis. But shortly afterwards his
servant appeared before Griselda and said :
" Madam, I must either lose my life or obey my lord's
commands. Now he has ordered me to take your daugh-
ter and " He said no more, but hung his head and
acted in such a distraught way that she supposed he had
orders to destroy the child. She Hfted it tenderly from
the cradle and kissed it again and again, gave it her bless-
ing, and, though her heart was ready to burst with a
mother's love, she laid it in the servant's arms.
"Take it," said^she, "and do with it what thy lord
and mine has commanded ; but please, please, leave it
not to be devoured by fowls or wild beasts, unless that
be his will."
The result of this experiment was a great surprise to
the marquis ; but he sent the child to Bologna to be
educated in secret.
Soon Griselda was with child again, and brought a son
into the world. Not long after its birth the marquis de-
termined upon a further trial of his wife's patience. So
he said to her :
" Since thou hast brought me this son, I can no longer
live with my people ; for they are so indignant that a
poor shepherd's grandson is to succeed and be their lord
after me, that I must dispose of this child as I did of the
other, or run the risk of being driven out of my domin-
ions. Then I must send thee away and take a wife more
suitable to my position."
" My lord," said she, with resignation, " study your own
Patient Griselda 35
ease and happiness without the least regard for me ; for
nothing will bring me happiness but that which is pleasing
to yourself."
Accordingly the son was sent to Bologna, though under
such circumstances as to give the impression that he had
been destroyed.
The marquis was greatly pleased with the results of his
experiment, and declared to himself that there was not
another woman in the world equal to his wife. He had
often observed her great fondness for her children, so he
knew that it was no want of affection that led her to part
with them so readily.
The people, being as much deceived as Griselda herself,
and supposing the children had been put to death, blamed
the marquis to the last degree, and began to think him the
most cruel and monstrous of men. They likewise showed
their compassion for the lady. But when they went to
condole with her for the loss of her children, she said :
" It was not my will, but his who begot them."
Several years went by, and the marquis determined to
make a last trial of the patience of his humble wife. He
announced to his people that he had come to the conclu-
sion that he had acted foolishly and like a young man in
choosing Griselda, as he had done, and that he meant to
petition the pope for a dispensation to divorce her and
marry another more suitable to his rank. There were
many who blamed him bitterly for this action ; but he gave
them no heed.
Griselda heard this announcement, and prepared herself
to go back and tend ber father's cattle while some other
lady occupied the place of honor that had neen hers for so
many years. She grieved in secret over this last calamity,
but determined to bear it as resolutely as she had borne
the loss of her children.
36 Greatest Short Stories
Counterfeit letters of dispensation arrived, as if from
the pope, and the marquis said to his wife :
" Woman, by the pope's leave I may dispose of thee
and take another wife. As my ancestors have been all
sovereign princes of this country, and thine only peasants,
I intend to keep thee no longer, but to send thee back
to thy father's cottage with the same portion which thou
broughtest me, and afterwards to make choice of one more
suitable in quality to myself."
Griselda had difficulty in restraining her tears, but she
said calmly :
" My lord, I was always sensible that my servile condi-
tion would in no way accord with your rank and descent.
For what I have been, I own myself indebted to Provi-
dence and you. I consider it as a favor lent me. You
are now pleased to demand it back ; I therefore willingly
restore it. Behold the ring with which you espoused me ;
I deliver it to you. You bid me take the dowry back which
I brought you. You will have no need for a teller to count
it, nor I for a purse to put it in, much less a sumpter horse
to carry it away, for I have not forgotten that you took me
naked, and if you think it decent to expose that body that
has borne you two children, I am content ; but I would
entreat you, as a recompense for my virginity, which
I brought you and do not carry away, that you would
be pleased to leave me one shift over and above my
dowry."
Though ready to weep, he put on a stern countenance,
and said :
" Thou shalt have one only, then.'^
All the people begged him to allow her at least one old
gown to keep her body from shame, but in vain. So she
left the palace with no covering but her shift, and returned
weeping to her father's house, to the great grief of all.
Patient Griselda 37
Poor old Giannucolo had not thought the prince would
keep her long, so he had laid her old garments away ready
for use on an occasion like this. As for Griselda, she
\k^ent courageously about the affairs of her father's house-
hold.
The marquis gave out that he was going to marry a
daughter of the Count of Panago. When the time of the
wedding drew near he sent for Griselda and said to her :
" I have no woman to set my house in order. As thou
art familiar with all the details of my establishment, I wish
thee to make what provision is required, invite what ladies
thou wilt, and when the marriage is ended, get thee home
to thy father's again."
" My lord, I am ready to fulfil your commands," she
answered quietly.
So she went in her coarse dress to the palace, and with
her own hands swept out the rooms and set them to
rights ; she cleaned and scrubbed like the meanest servant,
and directed affairs in the kitchen till all was in readiness.
She also invited the ladies of the neighborhood in the
name of the marquis, and on the day named, meanly clad
as she was, she received them in the most genteel and
cheerful manner imaginable.
In the meantime the children had been living at
Bologna with a kinswoman of the marquis. The girl was
twelve, an extremely pretty creature, and the boy was a
bright litde fellow of six. The marquis now seat to his
kinswoman to bring them with a retinue to Saluzzo, and to
give it out all along the way that she was bringing the
young lady to be married to him.
They reached Saluzzo about dinner-time after several
days' travel. The news of their coming had been spread
abroad, and they found the whole country assembled and
waiting to see the new marchioness.
38 Greatest Short Stories
The young lady was graciously received. Griselda went
cheerfully to meet her, saying :
" Your ladyship is most welcome."
The ladies of the neighborhood had begged the marquis
that Griselda be allowed to stay in a room by herself, or
else have some suitable clothes to wear. But he turned a
deaf ear to all their entreaties. However, when the young
lady appeared, nearly every one agreed that the prince
had made a good choice. Griselda in particular com-
mended her highly.
*' What thinkest thpu of my bride ? " asked the prince.
" My lord, I like her extremely well," she answered.
" If she be as prudent as she is fair, you may be the
happiest man in the world with her. But I most humbly
beg that you will not take those heart-breaking measures
with this lady that you did with your former wife, because
she is young, and has been tenderly educated, whereas the
other was inured to hardships from a child."
Gualtieri rejoiced exceedingly in this last evidence of
Griselda's humility and sweetness of temper. So he made
her sit down beside him and said :
" Griselda, it is now time for you to reap the reward of
your long patience, and for those who have reputed me
cruel and unjust, a monster by nature, to know that what
I have done has been merely to show them how a wife
ought to behave. I was apprehensive that I might have
endangered my ease and quiet by marrying ; buf now I
know they are secure as long as we live together. I had
a mind to prove you by harsh words and seemingly harsh
acts. You have not transgressed my will in any particular,
and I know that I have met with that happiness which I
desired. All shall be restored to you in one hour which
was taken away in many, and with it such sweet rec-
Patient Griselda 39
ompense as I can bestow. Accept this young lady and
her brother as your children and mine. They are the
same that you and many others thought I had cruelly
murdered.
" In me you see a husband who loves and values you
above all things, and one who feels that no person in the
world can be happier in a wife than I in mine."
He thereupon embraced her with affection, while she
wept for joy. They then went to their daughter, who
was very much astonished, and tenderly saluted her and
her brother.
All the women rose from the table overjoyed at the
news they heard, and leading Griselda away to her cham-
ber, clothed her as became a marchioness. But even in
her rags she seemed of that estate.
Joy and satisfaction reigned on every side, and the
feasting went on for many days. The marquis was
judged a wise man, though his treatment of his wife had
been intolerable ; and Griselda was admired as a woman
beyond compare.
In a few days the Count da Panago returned home
with his retinue. The marquis took Giannucolo from his
drudgery and maintained him as his father-in-law. So
for the rest of his life the old peasant lived in respect and
honor.
In view of an instance like this, must we not admit that
divine spirits may descend from heaven into the meanest
of cottages ; while royal palaces shall give birth to such as
seem rather adapted to the care of animals than the gov-
ernment of men? Who but Griselda could, not only
without a tear, but even with seeming satisfaction, undergo
the most unheard-of trials at the hands of her husband?
Many women there are who, if turned out of doors naked
40 Greatest Short Stories
as Griselda was, would have found means to procure fine
clothes for themselves, adorning at once their own persons
and their husbands' brows (with frowns).
Note. — There is probably not one woman in a hundred in
modern times who, if she were treated as Griselda was, would not
invoke the courts. Yet there are some who will bear almost any-
thing for the sake of peace. One cannot help the suspicion that
Griselda was deeper than she seemed, and knowing more of her
husband's nature and purposes than appears in the story, was act-
ing a diplomatic and exceedingly shrewd part in refusing to be
provoked. Viewed in this light, she is a striking example of the
power of modesty and non-resistance to give dignity, and finally
authority and power, to one from the lowliest social rank. Yet
even if we take this view, there is nothing in the story that would
for a moment lead us to question Griselda's simplicity and ingen-
uousness of nature. If she was as wise as a serpent, she was as
pure and generous-minded as a child. — Editor.
II
ALADDIN, OR THE WONDERFUL
LAMP
ALADDIN,
OR THE WONDERFUL LAMP
FROM
''THE ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTER--
TAINMENTS''
INTRODUCTORY
THE ORIGIN OF THE MODERN ROMANCE
AS the modern love story had its beginning
in the Decameron, so the modern ro-
mance had its beginning in the Arabian
Nights. Strangely enough, the stories of the
Arabian Nights were collected in almost the
same way and at the same time as the stories of
the Decameron. But while the love stories were
Italian, the Arabian Nights' Entertainments were
Oriental. The Arabs are a nation of free-booters
and merchants. Both are travellers, and we have
already seen how easily the distinguished travel-
ler in the old days merged into the distinguished
story-teller. The wonderful tales of the genii were
invented to give excitement to an evening at the
44 Greatest Short Stories
tavern. Most of them are at the same time tales
of travel, and in their very setting we see the signs
of their bar-room origin.
So low was the origin of modern fiction that the
matchless tales of the Arabian Nights are even to
this day looked on with contempt by the Oriental
critic and philosopher. But in them we see the
dreams of the common people, and we realize
what an important part dreams have in the spir-
itual economy of life. We must hope ; we must'
escape from the drudgery of the lot in which we*
toil; we must rest our hearts, or they will break!'
Romance takes us out of ourselves and makes us
free spirits for the hour. It is one of the greatest
blessings of life ; and the fact that the mere printed
pages of a book can do this to-day shows the mar-
vellous advancement of the average intelligence in
modern times.
There is a popular misconception to the effect
that any wild fancy may constitute a ** fairy story."
The truth is, however, that a tale of this kind re-
quires as profound a knowledge of human nature
as any form of fiction. Take for granted the ex-
istence of genii and fairies, with their peculiar and
unnatural powers, and we can go no farther in the
way of license. Everything that is said and done
must be as strictly logical, as well worth doing,
and as instructive and dramatic as in the most
realistic fiction. It is by no means easy to as-
sume a little license without being constantly
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 45
tempted to assume more; but restraint here as
elsewhere is the invariable sign manual of the
master.
ALADDIN, OR THE WONDERFUL LAMP
IN one of the large and rich cities of China there once
lived a tailor named Mustapha. He was very poor.
He could hardly, by his daily labor, maintain himself and
his family, which consisted only of his wife and a son.
His son, who was called Aladdin,^ was a very careless
and idle fellow. He was disobedient to his father and
mother, and would go out early in the morning and stay
out all day, playing in the streets and public places with
idle children of his own age.
When he was old enough to learn a trade, his father
took him into his own shop, and taught him how to use
the needle ; but all his father's endeavors to keep him to
his work were vain, for no sooner was his back turned, than
the boy was gone for that day. Mustapha chastised him,
but Aladdin was incorrigible, and his father, to his great
grief, was forced to abandon him to his idleness ; and
was so much troubled about him, that he fell sick and
died in a few months.
Aladdin, who was now no longer restrained by the fear
of a father, gave himself entirely over to his idle habits,
and was never out of the streets or away from his com-
panions. This course he followed till he was fifteen
years old, without giving his mind to any useful pursuit
or the least reflection on what would become of him.
As he was one day playing, according to custom, in the
^ Aladdin signifies "The Nobility of the Religion." — Lane,
vol. 11. p. 285.
46 Greatest Short Stories
street, with his evil associates, a stranger passing by
stopped to observe him.
This stranger was a sorcerer, known as the African
magician, as he had been but two days arrived from
Africa, his native country.
The African magician, observing in Aladdin's counten-
ance something which assured him that he was a fit boy
for his purpose, inquired his name and history of some of
his companions, and when he had learnt all he desired to
know, went up to him, and taking him aside from his
comrades, said, ^' Child, was not your father called
Mustapha the tailor?" "Yes, sir," answered the boy,
"but he has been dead a long time."
At these words the African magician threw his arms
about Aladdin's neck and kissed him several times, with
tears in his eyes, and said, " I am your uncle. Your
worthy father was my own brother. I knew you at first
sight, you are so like him." Then he gave Aladdin a
handful of small money, saying, " Go, my son, to your
mother, give my love to her, and tell her that I will visit
her to-morrow, that I may see where my good brother
lived so long and ended his days."
Aladdin ran to his mother, overjoyed at the money his
uncle had given him. "Mother," said he, "have Ian
uncle?"
" No, child," replied his mother, " you have no uncle
by your father's side or mine." " I am just now come,"
said Aladdin, " from a man who says he is my uncle and
my father's brother. He cried and kissed me when I told
him my father was dead, and he gave me money, send-
ing his love to you, and promising to come and pay you
a visit, that he may see the house my father lived and
died in." "Indeed, child," replied the mother, "your
father had no brother, nor have you an uncle."
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 47
The next day the magician found Aladdin playing in
another part of the town, and embracing him as before,
put two pieces of gold into his hand, and said to him,
" Carry this, child, to your mother ; tell her that I will
come and see her to-night, and bid her get us something
for supper ; but first show me the house where you live."
Aladdin showed the African magician the house, and
carried the two pieces of gold to his mother, who went
out and bought provisions ; and considering she wanted
various utensils, borrowed them of her neighbors. • She
spent the whole day in preparing the supper; and at
night, when it was ready, said to her son, " Perhaps the
stranger knows not how to find our house ; go and bring
him, if you meet with him."
Aladdin was just ready to go, when the magician
knocked at the door, and came in loaded with wine and
all sorts of fruits, which he brought for a dessert. After
he had given what he brought into Aladdin's hands, he
saluted his mother, and desired her to show him the
place where his brother Mustapha used to sit on the sofa ;
and when she had so done, he fell down, and kissed it
several times, crying out, with tears in his eyes, " My
poor brother ! how unhappy am I, not to have come
soon enough to give you one last embrace ! " Aladdin's
mother desired him to sit down in the same place, but he
declined. " No," said he, " I shall not do that ; but give
me leave to sit 9pposite to it, that although I see not the
master of a family so dear to me, I may at least behold
the place where he used to sit."
When the magician had made choice of a place and
sat down, he began to enter into discourse with Aladdin's
mother. ''My good sister," said he, "do not be sur-
prised at your never having seen me all the time you
have been married to my brother Mustapha of happy
48 Greatest Short Stories
memory. I have been forty years absent from this
country, which is my native place, as well as my late
brother's; and during that time have travelled into the
Indies, Persia, Arabia, Syria, and Egypt, and afterward I
crossed over into Africa, where I took up my abode. At
last, as it is natural for a man, I had a desire to see my
native country again, and to embrace my dear brother ; and
finding I had strength enough to undertake so long a
journey, I made the necessary preparations and set out.
Nothing ever afflicted me so much as hearing of my
brother's death. But God be praised for all things ! It
is a comfort for me to find, as it were, my brother in a
son, who has his most remarkable features."
The African magician perceiving that the widow wept
at the remembrance of her husband, changed the con-
versation, and turning toward her son, asked him, " What
business do you follow? Are you of any trade ? "
At this question the youth hung down his head, and
was not a little abashed when his mother answered,
"Aladdin is an idle fellow. His father, when alive,
strove all he could to teach him his trade, but could not
succeed ; and since his death, notwithstanding all I can
say to him, he does nothing but idle away his time in the
streets, as you saw him, without considering he is no longer
a child ; and if you do not make him ashamed gf it, I
despair of his ever coming to any good. For my part, I
am resolved, one of these days, to turn him out of doors
and let him provide for himself"
After these words, Aladdin's mother burst into tears ;
and the magician said, " This is not well, nephew ; you
must think of helping yourself, and getting your livelihood.
There are many sorts of trades ; perhaps you do not like
your father's, and would prefer another ; I will endeavor
to help you. If you have no mind to learn any handi-
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 49
craft, I will take a shop for you, furnish it with all sorts of
fine stuffs and linens ; and then with the money you make
out of them you can lay in fresh goods, and live in an honor-
able way. Tell me freely what you think of my proposal ;
you shall always find me ready to keep my word."
This plan just suited Aladdin, who hated work. He
told the magician he had a greater inclination to that
business than to any other, and that he should be much
obliged to him for his kindness. "Well, then," said the
African magician, " I will take you with me to-morrow,
clothe you as handsomely as the best merchants in the
city, and afterward we will open a shop as I have
suggested."
The widow, after his promise of kindness to her son,
no longer doubted that the magician was her husband's
brother. She thanked him for his good intentions ; and
after having exhorted Aladdin to render himself worthy
of his uncle's favor, served up supper, at which they
talked of several indifferent matters ; and then the magi-
cian took his leave and retired.
He came again the next day, as he had promised, and
took Aladdin with him to a merchant, who sold all sorts
of clothes for different ages and ranks, ready made, and
a variety of fine stuffs, and bade Aladdin choose those he
preferred, which he paid for.
When Aladdin found himself so handsomely equipped,
he returned his uncle thanks, who thus addressed him :
"As you are soon to be a merchant, it is proper you
should frequent these shops, and be acquainted with
them." He then showed him the largest and finest
mosques, carried him to the khans or inns where the
merchants and travellers lodged, and afterward to the
sultan's palace, where he had free access ; and at last
brought him to his own khan, where, meeting with some
4
50 Greatest Short Stories
merchants he had become acquainted with since his ar-
rival, he gave them a treat, to bring them and his pre-
tended nephew acquainted.
This entertainment lasted till night, when Aladdin would
have taken leave of his uncle to go home ; the magician
would not let him go by himself, but conducted him to
his mother, who, as soon as she saw him so well dressed,
was transported with joy and bestowed a thousand bless-
ings upon the magician.
Early the next morning, the magician called again for
Aladdin, and said he would take him to spend that day
in the country, and on the next he would purchase
the shop. He then led him out at one of the gates of
the city, to some magnificent palaces, to each of which
belonged beautiful gardens, into which anybody might
enter. At every building he came to, he asked Aladdin
if he did not think it fine ; and the youth was ready to
answer when any one presented itself, crying out, '' Here
is a finer house, uncle, than any we have yet seen." By
this artifice, the cunning magician led Aladdin some way
into the country ; and as he meant to carry him farther,
to execute his design, he took an opportunity to sit down
in one of the gardens, on the brink of a fountain of clear
water, which discharged itself by a lion's mouth of bronze
into a basin, pretending to be tired. " Come, nephew,"
said he, "you must be weary as well as I; let us rest
ourselves, and we shall be better able to pursue our walk."
The magician next pulled from his girdle a handker-
chief with cakes and fruit, and during this short repast he
exhorted his nephew to leave off bad company, and to
seek that of wise and prudent men, to improve by their
conversation ; " for," said he, '* you will soon be at man's
estate, and you cannot too early begin to imitate their
example." When they had eaten as much as they liked,
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 5 1
they got up, and pursued their walk through gardens
separated from one another only by small ditches, which
marked out the limits without interrupting the communi-
cation ; so great was the confidence the inhabitants re-
posed in each other. By this means the African magician
drew Aladdin insensibly beyond the gardens, and crossed
the country, till they nearly reached the mountains.
At last they arrived between two mountains of moderate
height and equal size, divided by a narrow valley, which
was the place where the magician intended to execute
the design that had brought him from Africa to China.
* We will go no farther now," said he to Aladdin ; *^ I
will show you here some extraordinary things, which,
when you have seen, you will thank me for ; but while
I strike a light, gather up all the loose dry sticks you can,
see, to kindle a fire with."
Aladdin found so many dried sticks, that he soon col-
lected a great heap. The magician presently set them
on fire; and when they were in a blaze, threw in some
incense, pronouncing several magical words, which Alad-
din did not understand.
He had scarcely done so when the earth opened just
before the magician, and discovered a stone with a brass
ring fixed in it. Aladdin was so frightened that he would
have run away, but the magician caught hold of him, and
gave him such a box on the ear that he knocked him down.
Aladdin got up trembling, and with tears in his eyes, said
to the magician, " What have I done, uncle, to be treated
in this severe manner?" "I am your uncle," answered
the magician ; '^ I supply the place of your father, and
you ought to make no reply. But, child," added he,
softening, " do not be afraid ; for I shall not ask anything
of you, but that you obey me punctually, if you would
reap the advantages which I intend you. Know, then,
52 Greatest Short Stories
that under this stone there is hidden a treasure, des-
tined to be yours, which will make you richer than the
greatest monarch in the world. No person but yourself
is permitted to lift this stone, or enter the cave ; so you
must punctually execute what I may command, for it is
a matter of great consequence both to you and me."
Aladdin, amazed at all he saw and heard, forgot what
was past, and rising, said, " Well, uncle, what is to be
done ? Command me : I am ready to obey." " I am
overjoyed, child," said the African magician, embracing
him. *' Take hold of the ring and lift up that stone."
*^ Indeed, uncle," replied Aladdin, "I am not strong
enough ; you must help me." " You have no occasion for
my assistance," answered the magician ; " if I help you,
we shall be able to do nothing. Take hold of the ring,
and lift it up; you will find it will come easily." Aladdin
did as the magician bade him, raised the stone with ease,
and laid it on one side.
When the stone was pulled up, there appeared a stair-
case about three or four feet deep, leading to a door.
" My son," said the African magician, " descend those
steps and open that door. It will lead you into a palace,
divided into three great halls. In each of these you will
see four large brass cisterns placed on each side, full of
gold and, silver; but take care you do not meddle with
them. Before you enter the first hall, be sure to tuck up
your robe, wrap it about you, and then pass through the
second into the third without stopping. Above all things,
have a care that you do not touch the walls so much as
with your clothes ; for if you do, you will die instantly. At
the end of the third hall, you will find a door which opens
into a garden planted with fine trees loaded with fruit.
Walk directly across the garden to a terrace, where you
will see a niche before you, and in that niche a lighted
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 53
lamp. Take the lamp down and put it out. When you
have thrown away the wick and poured out the liquor, put
it in your waistband and bring it to me. Do not be
afraid that the liquor will spoil your clothes, for it is not
oil, and the lamp will be dry as soon as it is thrown out.''
After these words the magician drew a ring off his
finger and put it on one of Aladdin's, saying, " It is a
talisman against all evil, so long as you obey me. Go,
therefore, boldly, and we shall both be rich all our lives."
Aladdin descended the steps, and, opening the door,
found the three halls just as the African magician had
described. He went through them with all the precau-
tion the fear of death could inspire, crossed the garden
without stopping, took down the lamp from the niche,
threw out the wick and the liquor, and, as the magi-
cian had desired, put it in his waistband. But as he came
down from the terrace, seeing it was perfectly dry, he
stopped in the garden to observe the trees, which were
loaded with extraordinary fruit of difterent colors on each
tree. Some bore fruit entirely white, and some clear and
transparent as crystal ; some pale red, and others deeper ;
some green, blue and purple, and others yellow ; in short,
there was fruit of all colors. The white were pearls ; the
clear and transparent, diamonds"; the deep red, rubies ; the
paler, balas rubies ^ ; the green, emeralds ; the blue, tur-
quoises ; the purple, amethysts : and the yellow, sapphires.
Aladdin, ignorant of their value, would have preferred
figs, or grapes, or pomegranates ; but as he had his
uncle's permission, he resolved to gather some of every
sort. Having filled the two new purses his uncle had
bought for him with his clothes, he wrapped some up in
the skirts of his vest, and crammed his bosom as full as it
could hold.
1 Balas rubies are rubies of the brightest color.
54 Greatest Short Stories
Aladdin, having thus loaded himself with riches of
which he knew not the value, returned through the three
halls with the utmost precaution, and soon arrived at the
mouth of the cave, where the African magician awaited
him with the utmost impatience. As soon as Aladdin
saw him, he cried out, '* Pray, uncle, lend me your hand,
to help me out." *'Give me the lamp first," replied the
magician ; '* it will be troublesome to you." " Indeed,
uncle," answered Aladdin, " I cannot now, but I will as
soon as I am up." The African magician was deter-
mined that he would have the lamp before he would help
him up ; and Aladdin, who had encumbered himself so
much with his fruit that he could not well get at it, re-
fused to give it to him till he was out of the cave. The
African magician, provoked at this obstinate refusal, flew
into a passion, threw a little of his incense into the fire,
and pronounced tv^o magical words, when the stone which
had closed the mouth of the staircase moved into its
place, with the earth over it in the same manner as it lay
at the arrival of the magician and Aladdin.
This action of the magician plainly revealed to Aladdin
that he was no uncle of his, but one who designed him
evil. The truth was that he had learnt from his magic
books the secret and the value of this wonderful lamp,
the owner of which would be made richer than any earthly
ruler, and hence his journey to China. His art had'also
told him that he was not permitted to take it himself,
but must receive it as a voluntary gift from the hands
of another person. Hence he employed young Alad-
din, and hoped by a mixture of kindness and authority
to make him obedient to his word and will. When he
found that his attempt had failed, he set out to return to
Africa, but avoided the town, lest any person who had
seen him leave in company with Aladdin should make
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 55
inquiries after the youth. Aladdin being suddenly envel-
oped in darkness, cried, and called out to his uncle to tell
him he was ready to give him the lamp ; but in vain,
since his cries could not be heard. He descended to the
bottom of the steps, with a design to get into the palace,
but the door, which was opened before by enchantment,
was now shut by the same means. He then redoubled
his cries and tears, sat down on the steps without any
hopes of ever seeing light again, and in an expectation of
passing from the present darkness to a speedy death. In
this great emergency he said, *^ There is no strength or
power but in the great and high God ; " and in joining
his hands to pray he rubbed the ring which the magician
had put on his finger. Immediately a genie of frightful
aspect appeared, and -said, "What wouldst thou have?
I am ready to obey thee. I serve him who possesses the
ring on thy finger ; I, and the other slaves of that ring."
At another time Aladdin would have been frightened
at the sight of so extraordinary a figure, but the danger he
was in made him answer without hesitation, *' Whoever
thou art, deliver me from this place." He had no sooner
spoken these words, than he found himself on the very
spot where the magician had last left him, and no sign of
cave or opening, nor disturbance of the earth. Returning
God thanks to find himself once more in the world, he
made the best of his way home. When he got within his
mother's door, the joy at seeing her and his weakness for
want of sustenance made him so faint that he remained for
a long time as dead. As soon as he recovered, he related
to his mother all that had happened to him, and they were
both very vehement in their complaints of the cruel magi-
cian. Aladdin slept very soundly till late the next morning,
when the first thing he said to his mother was, that he
wanted something to eat, and wished she would give him
56 Greatest Short Stories
his breakfast. " Alas ! child," said she, I have not a bit
of bread to give you ; you ate up all the provisions I had
in the house yesterday ; but I have a little cotton which
I have spun ; I will go and sell it, and buy bread and
something for our dinner." "Mother," replied Aladdin,
"keep your cotton for another time, and give me the
lamp I brought home with me yesterday ; I will go and
sell it, and the money I shall get for it will serve both foi
breakfast and dinner, and perhaps supper too."
Aladdin's mother took the lamp and said to her son,
" Here it is, but it is very dirty ; if it were a little cleanei
I believe it would bring something more." She took
some fine sand and water to clean it ; but had no sooner
begun to rub it, than in an instant a hideous genie ol
gigantic size appeared before her, and said to her in a
voice of thunder, " What wouldst thou have ? I am
ready to obey thee as thy slave, and the slave of all those
who have that lamp in their hands ; I, and the other slaves
of the lamp. "
Aladdin's mother, terrified at the sight of the genie,
fainted ; when Aladdin, who had seen such a phantom in
the cavern, snatched the lamp out of his mother's hand,
and said to the genie boldly, " I am hungry, bring me
something to eat." The genie disappeared immediately,,
and in an instant returned with a large silver tray, hold-
ing twelve covered dishes of the same metal, which con-
tained the most deHcious viands ; six large white bread
cakes on two plates, two flagons of wine, and two silver
cups. All these he placed upon a carpet and disap-
peared ; this was done before Aladdin's mother recovered
from her swoon.
Aladdin had fetched some water, and sprinkled it in
her face to recover her. Whether that or the smell of the
meat effected her cure, it was not long before she came
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 57
to herself. " Mother," said Aladdin, '^ be not afraid ;
get up and eat ; here is what will put you in heart, and
at the same time satisfy my extreme hunger."
His mother was much surprised to see the great tray,
twelve dishes, six loaves, the two flagons and cups, and
to smell the savory odor which exhaled from the dishes.
" Child," said she, ''to whom are we obliged for this great
plenty and liberality? Has the sultan been made ac-
quainted with our poverty, and had compassion on us ? "
"It is no matter, mother," said Aladdin, *' let us sit down
and eat ; for you have almost as much need of a good
breakfast as myself; when we have done, I will tell you."
Accordingly, both mother and son sat down and ate with
the better relish as the table was so well furnished. But
all the time Aladdin's mother could not forbear looking
at and admiring the tray and dishes, though she could
not judge whether they were silver or some other metal,
and the novelty more than the value attracted her
attention.
The mother and son sat at breakfast till it was dinner-
time, and then they thought it would be best to put the
two meals together ; yet, after this they found they should
have enough left for supper, and two meals for the next
day.
When Aladdin's mother had taken away and set by
what was left, she went and sat down by her son on the
jiofa, saying, " I expect now that you should satisfy my
impatience, and tell me exactly what passed between the
i(^enie and you while I was in a swoon ; " which he readily
comphed with.
She was in as great amazement at what her son
told her, as at the appearance of the genie ; and said to
him, "But, son, what have we to do with genies? I
never heard that any of ray acquaintance had ever seen
58 Greatest Short Stories
one. How came that vile genie to address himself to me,
and not to you, to whom he had appeared before in the
cave ?" " Mother," answered Aladdin, " the genie you
saw is not the one who appeared to me. If you remem-
ber, he that I first saw called himself the slave of the ring
on my finger ; and this you saw called himself the slave
of the lamp you had in your hand ; but I believe you did
not hear him, for I think you fainted as soon as he began
to speak."
" What ! " cried the mother, '^ was your lamp then the
occasion of that cursed genie's addressing himself rather
to me than to you? Ah ! my son, take it out of my sight,
and put it where you please. I had rather you would sell
it than run the hazard of being frightened to death again
by touching it ; and if you would take my advice, you
would part also with the ring, and not have anything to
do with genies, who, as our prophet has told us, are only
devils."
" With your leave, mother,'' replied Aladdin, " I shall
now take care how I sell a lamp which may be so
serviceable both to you and me. That false and wicked
magician would not have undertaken so long a journey
to secure this wonderful lamp if he had not known
its value to exceed that of gold and silver. And since
we have honestly come by it, let us make a profitable use
of it, without making any great show, and exciting' the
envy and jealousy of our neighbors. However, since the
genies frighten you so much, I will take it out of your
sight, and put it where I may find it when I want it. The
ring I cannot resolve to part with ; for without that you
had never seen me again ; and though I am alive now,
perhaps, if it were gone, I might not be so some moments
hence; therefore, I hope you will give me leave to keep
it, and to wear it always on my finger." Aladdin's mothei
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 59
replied that he might do what he pleased ; for her part,
she would have nothing to do with genies, and never say
anything more about them.
By the next night they had eaten all the provisions the
genie had brought ; and the next day Aladdin, who could
not bear the thoughts of hunger, putting one of the silver
dishes under his vest went out early to sell it, and address-
ing himself to a Jew whom he met in the streets, took
him aside, and pulling out the plate, asked him if he
would buy it. The cunning Jew took the dish, examined
it, and as soon as he found that it was good silver, asked
Aladdin at how much he valued it. Aladdin, who had
never been used to such traffic, told him he would trust
to his judgment and honor. The Jew was somewhat
confounded at this plain dealing ; and doubting whether
Aladdin understood the material or the full value of what
he offered to sell, took a piece of gold out of his purse
and gave it him, though it was but the sixtieth part of
the worth of the plate. Aladdin, taking the money very
eagerly, retired with so much haste that the Jew, not
content with the exorbitancy of his profit, was vexed he
had not penetrated into his ignorance, and was going to
run after him, to endeavor to get some change out of the
piece of gold ; but Aladdin ran so fast, and had got so far,
that it would have been impossible to overtake him.
Before Aladdin went home, he called at a baker's,
bought some cakes of bread, changed his money, and on
his return gave the rest to his mother, who went and pur-
chased provisions enough to last them some time. After
this manner they lived, till Aladdin had sold the twelve
dishes singly, as necessity pressed, to the Jew, for the
same money ; who, after the first time, durst not offer him
less, for fear of losing so good a bargain. When he had
sold the last dish, he had recourse to the tray, which
6o Greatest Short Stories
weighed ten times as much as the dishes, and would have
carried it to his old purchaser, but that it was too large
and cumbersome ; therefore he was obliged to bring him
home with him to his mother's, where, after the Jew had
examined the weight of the tray, he laid down ten pieces
of gold, with which Aladdin was very well satisfied.
When all the money was spent, Aladdin had recourse
again to the lamp. He took it in his hands, looked for
the part where his mother had rubbed it with the sand,
and rubbed it also, when the genie immediately appeared
and said, "What wouldst thou have? I am ready to
obey thee as thy slave, and the slave of all those who have
that lamp in their hands ; I, and the other slaves of the
lamp." "I am hungry," said Aladdin, "bring me
something to eat." The genie disappeared, and pres-
ently returned with a tray and the same number of covered
dishes as before, set them down, and vanished.
As soon as Aladdin found that their provisions were
again expended, he took one of the dishes and went to
look for his Jew chapman ; but as he passed by a gold-
smith's shop, the goldsmith perceiving him, called to him,
and said, " My lad, I imagine that you have something to
sell to the Jew, whom I often see you visit ; but perhaps
you do not know that he is the greatest rogue even
among the Jews. I will give you the full worth of what
you have to sell, or I will direct you to other merchants
who will not cheat you."
This offer induced Aladdin to pull his plate from
under his vest and show it to the goldsmith ; who at
first sight saw that it was made of the finest silver, and
asked him if he had sold such as that to the Jew ; when
Aladdin told him that he had sold him twelve such, for a
piece of gold each. " What a villain ! " cried the gold-
smith. " But," added he, " my son, what is past cannot
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 6i
be recalled. By showing you the value of this plate,
which is of the finest silver we use in our shops, I
will let you see how much the Jew has cheated you."
The goldsmith took a pair of scales, weighed the dish,
and assured him that his plate would fetch by weight
sixty pieces of gold, which he offered to pay down
immediately.
Aladdin thanked him for his fair dealing, and never
after went to any other person.
Though Aladdin and his mother had an inexhaustible
treasure in their lamp, and might have had whatever
they wished for, yet they lived with the same frugality as
before, and it may easily be supposed that the money
for which Aladdin had sold the dishes and tray was
sufficient to maintain them some time.
During this interval, Aladdin frequented the shops of
the principal merchants, where they sold cloth of gold
and silver, linens, silk stuffs, and jewelry, and, oftentimes
joining in their conversation, acquired a knowledge of
the world, and a desire to improve himself. By his
acquaintance among the jewellers, he came to know that
the fruits which he had gathered when he took the lamp
were, instead of colored glass, stones of inestimable
value ; but he had the prudence not to mention this to
any one, not even to his mother.
One day as Aladdin was walking about the town, he
heard an order proclaimed, commanding the people to
shut up their shops and houses, and keep within doors
while the Princess Buddir al Buddoor, the sultan's
daughter, went to the bath and returned.
This proclamation inspired Aladdin with eager desire
to see the princess's face, which he determined to
gratify by placing himself behind the door of the bath,
so that he could not fail to see her face.
62 Greatest Short Stories
Aladdin had not long concealed himself before the
princess came. She was attended by a great crowd of
ladies, slaves, and mutes, who walked on each side and
behind her. When she came within three or four paces
of the door of the bath, she took off her veil, and gave
Aladdin an opportunity of a full view of her face.
The princess was a noted beauty ; her eyes were large,
lively, and sparkling ; her smile bewitching ; her nose
faultless ; her mouth small ; her lips vermilion. It is not
therefore surprising that Aladdin, who had never before
seen such a blaze of charms, was dazzled and en-
chanted.
After the princess had passed by and entered the
bath, Aladdin quitted his hiding-place and went home.
His mother perceived him to be more thoughtful and
melancholy than usual ; and asked what had happened
to make him so, or if he was ill. He then told his
mother all his adventure, and concluded by declaring,
" I love the princess more than I can express, and am
resolved that I will ask her in marriage of the sultan."
Aladdin's mother listened with surprise to what her
son told her ; but when he talked of asking the princess
in marriage, she laughed aloud. "Alas! child," said
she, " what are you thinking of ? You must be mad to
talk thus."
" I assure you, mother," repUed Aladdin, " that I am
not mad, but in my right senses. I foresaw that you
would reproach me with folly and extravagance ; but I
must tell you once more, that I am resolved to demand
the princess of the sultan in marriage ; nor do I despair
of success. I have the slaves of the lamp and of the
ring to help me, and you know how powerful their aid
is. And I have another secret to tell you : those pieces
of glass, which I got from the trees in the garden o^ the
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 63
subterranean palace, are jewels of inestimable value, and
fit for the greatest monarchs. All the precious stones
the jewellers have in Bagdad are not to be compared to
mine for size or beauty; and I am surethat the offer of
them will secure the favor of the sultan. You have a
large porcelain dish fit to hold them ; fetch it, and let us
see how they will look when we have arranged them
according to their different colors."
Aladdin's mother brought the china dish, when he
took the jewels out of the two purses in which he had
kept them, and placed them in order, according to his
fancy. But the brightness and lustre they emitted in
the daytime, and the variety of the colors, so dazzled
the eyes both of mother and son that they were aston-
ished beyond measure. Aladdin's mother, emboldened
by the sight of these rich jewels, and fearful lest her son
should be guilty of greater extravagance, complied with
his request, and promised to go early in the next morn-
ing to the palace of the sultan. Aladdin rose before
daybreak, awakened his mother, pressing her to go to
the sultan's palace, and to get admittance, if possible,
before the grand vizier, the other viziers, and the great
officers of state went in to take their seats in the divan,
where the sultan always attended in person.
Aladdin's mother took the china dish, in which they
had put the jewels the day before, wrapped it in two
fine napkins, and set forward for the sultan's palace.
When she came to the gates, the grand vizier, the other
viziers, and most distinguished lords of the court were
just gone in ; but notwithstanding the crowd of people
was great, she got into the divan, a spacious hall, the
entrance into which was very magnificent. She placed
herself just before the sultan, grand vizier, and the great
lords, who sat in council, on his right and left hand.
64 Greatest Short Stories
Several causes were called, according to their order,
pleaded and adjudged, until the time the divan generally
broke up, when the sultan, rising, returned to his apart r
ment, attended by the grand vizier ; the other vizierg
and ministers of state then retired, as also did all thos«t
whose business had called them thither.
Aladdin's mother, seeing the sultan retire and all
the people depart, judged rightly that he would not sit
again that day, and resolved to go home; and on her
arrival said, with much simplicity, "Son, I have seen the
sultan, and am very well persuaded he has seen me, toe,
for I placed myself just before him ; but he was so much
taken up with those who attended on all sides of hin)
that I pitied him, and wondered at his patience. At
last I beUeve he was heartily tired, for he rose up sud .
denly, and would not hear a great many who were read)T
prepared to speak to him, but went away, at which I
was well pleased, for indeed I began to lose all patience,,
and was extremely fatigued with staying so long. But
there is no harm done; I will go again to-morrow;
perhaps the sultan may not be so busy."
The next morning she repaired to the sultan's palace
with the present, as early as the day before ; but when
she came there, she found the gates of the divan shut.^
She went six times afterward on the days appointed,
placed herself always directly before the sultan, but with
as little success as the first morning.
On the sixth day, however, after the divan was broken
up, when the sultan returned to his own apartment, he
said to his grand vizier : " I have for some time observed
a certain woman, who attends constantly every day that:
I give audience, with something wrapped up in a hap-
1 Sir Paul Ricaut says that the divan is not held on two sue*
cessive days.
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 65
kin ; she always stands up from the beginning to the
breaking up of the audience, and affects to place her-
self just before me. If this woman comes to our next
audience, do not fail to call her, that I niay hear what
she has to say." The grand vizier made answer by low-
ering his hand, and then Hfting it up above his head,
signifying his willingness to lose it if he failed.
On the next audience day, when Aladdin's mother
went to the divan and placed herself in front of the sul-
tan as usual, the grand vizier immediately called the
chief of the mace-bearers, and pointing to her bade him
bring her before the sultan. The old woman at once
followed the mace-bearer, and when she reached the
sultan, bowed her head down to the carpet which covered
the platform of the throne, and remained in that posture
until he bade her rise ; which she had no sooner done
than he said to her, '' Good woman, I have observed
you to stand many days from the beginning to the rising
of the divan; what business brings you here?"
After these words, Aladdin's mother prostrated herself
a second time ; and when she arose, said, " Monarch of
monarchs, I beg of you to pardon the boldness of my
petition, and to assure me of your pardon and forgive-
ness." " Well," replied the sultan, " I will forgive you,
be it what it may, and no hurt shall come to you ; speak
boldly."
When Aladdin's mother had taken all these precau-
tions, for fear of the sultan's anger, she told him faith-
fully the errand on which her son had sent her, and the
event which led to his making so bold a request in spite
of all her remonstrances.
The sultan hearkened to this discourse without showing
the least anger ; but before he gave her any answer, asked
her what she had brought tied up in the napkin. She
5
66 Greatest Short Stories
took' the china dish which she had set down at the foot
of the throne, untied it, and presented it to the sultan.
The sultan's amazement and surprise were inexpres-
sible, when he saw so many large, beautiful, and valuable
jewels collected in the dish. He remained for some
time lost in admiration. At last, when he had recovered
himself, he received the present from Aladdin's mother's
hand, saying, " How rich, how beautiful ! " After he
had admired and handled all the jewels one after an-
other, he turned to his grand vizier, and showing him
the dish, said, " Behold, admire,^ wonder ! and confess
that your eyes never beheld jewels so rich and beautiful
before." The vizier was charmed. " Well," continued
the sultan, '^what sayest thou to such a present? Is it
not worthy of the princess my daughter? And ought I
not to bestow her on one who values her at so great a
price? " "I cannot but own," replied the grand vizier,
' that the present is worthy of the princess ; but I beg,
of your majesty to grant me three months before you
come to a final resolution. I hope, before that time, my
son, whom you have regarded with your favor, will be
able to make a nobler present than this Aladdin, who is
an entire stranger to your majesty."
The sultan granted his request, and he said to the old
woman, " Good woman, go home, and tell your son that
I agree to the proposal you have made me ; but I cannot
marry the princess my daughter for three months ; at
the expiration of that time come again."
Aladdin's mother returned home much more gratified
than she had expected, and told her son with much joy the
condescending answer she had received from the sultan's
own mouth ; and that she was to come to the divan
again that day three months.
Aladdin thought himself the most happy of all men at
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 67
hearing this news, and thanked his mother for the pains
she had taken in the affair, the good success of which
was of so great importance to his peace, that he counted
every day, week, and even hour as it passed. When two
of the three months were passed, his mother one evening,
having no oil in the house, went out to buy some, and
found a general rejoicing, — the houses dressed with foli-
age, silks, and carpeting, and every one striving to show
their joy according to their ability. The streets were
crowded with officers in habits of ceremony, mounted on
horses richly caparisoned, each attended by a great many
footmen. Aladdin's mother asked the oil merchant what
was the meaning of all this preparation of public festivity.
*' Whence came you, good woman," said he, ** that you
don't know that the grand vizier's son is to marry the
Princess Buddir al Buddoor, the sultan's daughter, to-
night? She will presently return from the bath; and
these officers whom you see are to assist at the cavalcade
to the palace, where the ceremony is to be solemnized."
Aladdin's mother, on hearing this news, ran home
very quickly. " Child," cried she, " you are undone !
the sultan's fine promises will come to nought. This
night the grand vizier's son is to marry the Princess
Buddir al Buddoor."
At this account, Aladdin was thunderstruck, and he
bethought himself of the lamp, and of the genie who had
promised to obey him ; and without indulging in idle
words against the sultan, the vizier, or his son, he deter-
mined, if possible, to prevent the marriage.
When Aladdin had got into his chamber, he took the
lamp, rubbed it in the same place as before, when im-
mediately the genie appeared, and said to him, " What
wouldst thou have? I am ready to obey thee as thy
slave ; I, and the other slaves of the lamp." " Hear me,"
68 Greatest Short Stories
said Aladdin ; *' thou hast hitherto obeyed me, but now
I am about to impose on thee a harder task. The sul-
tan's daughter, who was promised me as my bride, is this
night married to the son of the grand vizier. Bring
them both hither to me immediately they retire to their
bedchamber."
" Master," replied the genie, " I obey you."
Aladdin supped with his mother as was their wont,
and then went to his own apartment, and sat up to await
the return of the genie, according to his commands.
In the meantime the festivities in honor of the prin-
cess's marriage were conducted in the sultan's palace
with great magnificence. The ceremonies were at last
brought to a conclusion, and the princess and the son of
the vizier retired to the bedchamber prepared for them.
No sooner had they entered it, and dismissed their at-
tendants, than the genie, the faithful slav^e of the lamp,
to the great amazement and alarm of the bride and
bridegroom, took up the bed, and by an agency invisible
to them, transported it in an instant into Aladdin's
chamber, where he set it down. ** Remove the bride-
groom," said Aladdin to the genie, " and keep him a
prisoner till to-morrow dawn, and then return with him
here." On Aladdin being left alone with the princess,
he endeavored to assuage her fears, and explained to
her the treachery practised upon him by the sultan her
father. He then laid himself down beside her, putting
a drawn scimitar between them, to show that he was
determined to secure her safety, and to treat her with
the utmost possible respect. At break of day, the genie
appeared at the appointed hour, bringing back the bride-
groom, whom by breathing upon he had left motionless
and entranced at the door of Aladdin's chamber during
the night, and at Aladdin's command transported the
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 69
couch with the bride and bridegroom on it, by the same
invisible agency, into the palace of the sultan.
At the instant that the genie had set down the couch
with the bride and bridegroom in their own chamber, the
sultan came to the door to offer his good wishes to his
daughter. The grand vizier's son, who was almost per-
ished with cold by standing in his thin under-garment
all night, no sooner heard the knocking at the door than
he got out of bed, and ran into the robing-chamber,
where he had undressed himself the night before.
The sultan having opened the door, went to the bed-
side, kissed the princess on the forehead, but was ex-
tremely surprised to see her look so melancholy. She
only cast at him a sorrowful look, expressive of great
affliction. He suspected there was nothing extraordinary
in this silence, and thereupon went immediately to the
Bultaness's apartment, told her in what a state he found
the princess, and how she had received him. " Sire,"
said the sultaness, " I will go and see her ; she will not
receive me in the same manner."
The princess received her mother with sighs and tears,
and signs of deep dejection. At last, upon her pressing
on her the duty of telling her all her thoughts, she gave
to the sultaness a precise description of all that happened
to her during the night ; on which the sultaness enjoined
on her the necessity of silence and discretion, as no one
would give credence to so strange a tale. The grand
vizier's son, elated with the honor of being the sultan's
son-in-law, kept silence on his part, and the events of
the night were not allowed to cast the least gloom on the
festivities on the following day, in continued celebration
of the royal marriage.
When night came, the bride and bridegroom were
again attended to their chamber with the same cere-
70 Greatest Short Stories
monies as on the preceding evening. Aladdin, knowing
that this would be so, had already given his commands
to the genie of the lamp ; and no sooner were they alone
than their bed was removed in the same mysterious
manner as on the preceding evening ; and having passed
the night in the same unpleasant way, they were in the
morning conveyed to the palace of the sultan. Scarcely
had they been replaced in their apartment, when the
sultan came to make his compliments to his daughter,
when the princess could no longer conceal from him the
unhappy treatment she had been subject to, and told
him all that had happened as she had already related it
to her mother. The sultan, on hearing these strange
tidings, consulted with the grand vizier ; and finding
from him that his son had been subjected to even worse
treatment by an invisible agency, he determined to de-
clare the marriage to be cancelled, and all the festivities,
which were yet to last for several days, to be counter-
manded and terminated.
This sudden change in the mind of the sultan gave
rise to various speculations and reports. Nobody but
Aladdin knew the secret, and he kept it with the most
scrupulous silence ; and neither the sultan nor the
grand vizier, who had forgotten Aladdin and his re-
quest, had the least thought that he had any hand
in the strange adventures that befell the bride and
bridegroom.
On the very day that the three months contained in
the sultan's promise expired, the mother of Aladdin again
went to the palace, and stood in the same place in the
divan. The sultan knew her again, and directed his
vizier to have her brought before him.
After having prostrated herself, she made answer, in
reply to the sultan : " Sire, I come at the end of three
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 71
months to ask of you the fulfilment of the promise you
made to my son." The sultan little thought the request
of Aladdin's mother was made to him in earnest, or that
he would hear any more of the matter. He therefore
took counsel with his vizier, who suggested that the
sultan should attach such conditions to the marriage
as no one of the humble condition of Aladdin could
possibly fulfil. In accordance with this suggestion of
the vizier, the sultan replied to the mother of Aladdin :
" Good woman, it is true sultans ought to abide by their
word, and I am ready to keep mine and make your
son happy in marriage with the princess my daughter.
But as I cannot marry her without some further proof of
your son's being able to support her in royal state, you
may tell him I will fulfil my promise as soon as he shall
send me forty trays of massy gold, full of the same sort
of jewels you have already made me a present of, and
carried by the like number of black slaves, who shall be
led by as many young and handsome white slaves, all
dressed magnificently. On these conditions I am ready
to bestow the princess my daughter upon him; there-
fore, good woman, go and tell him so, and I will wait
till you bring me his answer."
Aladdin's mother prostrated herself a second time be-
fore the sultan's throne, and retired. On her way home
she laughed within herself at her son's foolish imagina-
tion. " Where," said she, " can he get so many large
gold trays, and such precious stones to fill them ? It is
altogether out of his power, and I believe he will not be
much pleased with my embassy this time." When she
came home, full of these thoughts, she told Aladdin all
the circumstances of her interview with the sultan, and
the conditions on which he consented to the marriage.
"The sultan expects your answer immediately," said
72 Greatest Short Stories
she ; and then added, laughing, " I believe he may wait
long enough ! "
" Not so long, mother, as you imagine," replied
Aladdin. " This demand is a mere trifle, and will prove
no bar to my marriage with the princess. I will prepare
at once to satisfy his request."
Aladdin retired to his own apartment and summoned
the genie of the lamp, and required him to prepare and
present the gift immediately, before the sultan closed
his morning audience, according to the terms in which
it had been prescribed. The genie professed his obedi-
ence to the owner of the lamp, and disappeared. Within
a very short time, a train of forty black slaves, led by
the same number of white slaves, appeared opposite the
house in which Aladdin lived. Each black slave carried
on his head a basin of massy gold, full of pearls, dia-
monds, rubies, and emeralds. Aladdin then addressed
his mother : " Madam, pray lose no time ; before the
sultan and the divan rise, I would have you return to the
palace with this present as the dowry demanded for the
princess, that he may judge by my diligence and exact-
ness of the ardent and sincere desire I have to procure
myself the honor of this alliance."
As soon as this magnificent procession, with Aladdin's
mother at its head, had begun to march from Aladdin's
house, the whole city was filled with the crowds of peo-
ple desirous of seeing so grand a sight. The graceful
bearing, elegant form, and wonderful likeness of each
slave, their grave walk at an equal distance from each
other, the lustre of their jewelled girdles, and the bril-
liancy of the aigrettes of precious stones in their turbans,
excited the greatest admiration in the spectators. As
they had to pass through several streets to the palace,
the whole length of the way was lined with files of spec-
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 73
tators. Nothing, indeed, was ever seen so beautiful and
brilliant in the sultanis palace, and the richest robes of
the emirs of his court were not to be compared to the
costly dresses of these slaves, whom they supposed to be
kings.
As the sultan, who had been informed of their ap-
proach, had given orders for^them to be admitted, they
met with no obstacle, but went into the divan in regular
order, one part turning to the right and the other to the
left. After they were all entered, and had formed a
semicircle before the sultan's throne, the black slaves
laid the golden trays on the carpet, prostrated them-
selves, touching the carpet with their foreheads, and at
the same time the white slaves did the same. When
they rose, the black slaves uncovered the trays, and then
all stood with their arms crossed over their breasts.
In the meantime, Aladdin's mother advanced to the
foot of the throne, and having prostrated herself, said to
the sultan, " Sire, my son knows this present is much
below the notice of Princess Buddir al Buddoor; but
hopes, nevertheless, that your majesty will accept of it,
and make it agreeable to the princess, and with the
greater confidence since he has endeavored to conform
to the conditions you were pleased to impose."
The sultan, overpowered at the sight of such more
than royal magnificence, replied without hesitation to
the words of Aladdin's mother : " Go and tell your son
that I wait with open arms to embrace him; and the
more haste he makes to come and receive the princess
my daughter from my hands, the greater pleasure he
will give me." As soon as Aladdin's mother had retired,
the sultan put an end to the audience ; and rising from
his throne ordered that the princess's attendants should
come and carry the trays into their mistress's apartment,
74 Greatest Short Stories
whither he went himself to examine them with her at his
leisure. The fourscore slaves were conducted into the
palace ; and the sultan, telling the princess of their mag-
nificent apparel, ordered them to be brought before her
apartment, that she might see through the lattices he
had not exaggerated in his account of them.
In the meantime Aladdin's mother reached home,
and showed in her air and countenance the good news
she brought to her son. " My son," said she, " you may
rejoice you are arrived at the height of your desires
The sultan has declared that you shall marry the Princes.
Buddir al Buddoor. He waits for you with impatience."
Aladdin, enraptured with this news, made his mother
very little reply, but retired to his chamber. There he
rubbed his lamp, and the obedient genie appeared.
" Genie," said Aladdin, " convey me at once to a bath,
and supply me with the richest and most magnificent
robe ever worn by a monarch." No sooner were the
words out of his mouth than the genie rendered him, as
well as himself, invisible, and transported him into a
hummum ^ of the finest marble of all sorts of colors ;
where he was undressed, without seeing by whom, in a
magnificent and spacious hall. He was then well rubbed
and washed with various scented waters. After he had
passed through several degrees of heat, he came out
quite a different man from what he was before. His skin
was clear as that of a child, his body lightsome and free ;
and when he returned into the hall, he found, instead of
his own poor raiment, a robe, the magnificence of which
astonished him. The genie helped him to dress, and
when he had done, transported him back to his own
chamber, where he asked him if he had any other
commands. "Yes," answered Aladdin, "bring me a
1 A Turkish word for a bath.
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 75
charger that surpasses in beauty and goodness the best
in the sultan's stables ; with a saddle, bridle, and other
caparisons to correspond with his value. Furnish also
twenty slaves, as richly clothed as those who carried the
present to the sultan, to walk by my side and follow me,
and twenty more to go before me in two ranks. Besides
these, bring my inother six women slaves to attend her,
as richly dressed at least as any of the Princess Buddir
al Buddoor's, each carrying a complete dress fit for any
sultaness. I want also ten thousand pieces of gold in
ten purses ; go, and make haste."
As soon as Aladdin had given these orders, the genie
disappeared, but presently returned with the horse, the
forty slaves, ten of whom carried each a purse contain-
ing ten thousand pieces of gold, and six women slaves,
each carrying on her head a different dress for Aladdin's
mother, wrapt up in a piece of silver tissue, and pre-
sented them all to Aladdin.
He presented the six women slaves to his mother,
telling her they were her slaves, and that the dresses
they had brought were for her use. Of the ten purses
Aladdin took four, which he gave to his mother, telling
her, those were to supply her with necessaries ; the other
six he left in the hands of the slaves who brought them,
with an order to throw them by handfuls among the
people as they went to the sultan's palace. The six
slaves who carried the purses he ordered likewise to
march before him, three on the right hand and three
on the left.
When Aladdin had thus prepared himself for his first
interview with the sultan, he dismissed the genie, and
immediately mounting his charger, began his march,
and though he never was on horseback before, appeared
with a grace the most experienced horseman might envy.
76 Greatest Short Stories
The innumerable concourse of people through whom he
passed made the air echo with their acclamations, es-
pecially every time the six slaves who carried the
purses threw handfuls of gold among the populace.
On Aladdin's arrival at the palace, the sultan was sur-
prised to find him more richly and magnificently robed
than he had ever been himself, and was impressed with
his good looks and dignity of manner, which were so
different from what he expected in the son of one
so humble as Aladdin's mother. He embraced him
with all the demonstrations of joy, and when he would
have fallen at his feet, held him by the hand, and made
him sit near his throne. He shortly after led him amidst
the sounds of trumpets, hautboys, and all kinds of music,
to a magnificent entertainment, at which the sultan and
Aladdin ate by themselves, and the great lords of the
court, according to their rank and dignity, sat at different
tables. After the feast, the sultan sent for the chiei
cadi, and commanded him to draw up a contract of
marriage between the Princess Buddir al Buddoor and
Aladdin. When the contract had been drawn, the sultan
asked Aladdin if he would stay in the palace and com-
plete the ceremonies of the marriage that day. " Sire,"
said Aladdin, *' though great is my impatience to enter
on the honor granted me by your majesty, yet I beg you
to permit me first to build a palace worthy to receive the
princess your daughter. I pray you to grant me suffi-
cient ground near your palace, and I will have it com-
pleted with the utmost expedition." The sultan granted
Aladdin his request, and again embraced him. After
which he took his leave with as much poUteness as if he
had been bred up and had always lived at court.
Aladdin returned home in the order he had come,
amidst the acclamations of the people, who wished
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 77
him all happiness and prosperity. As soon as he dis-
mounted, he retired to his own chamber, took the lamp,
and summoned the genie as usual, who professed his
allegiance. *' Genie," said Aladdin, ** build me a palace
fit to receive the Princess Buddir al Buddoor. Let its
materials be made of nothing less than porphyry, jasper,
agate, lapis lazuli, and the finest marble. Let its walls
be massive gold and silver bricks laid alternately. Let
each front contain six windows, and let the lattices of
these (except one, which must be left unfinished) be en-
riched with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, so that they
shall exceed everything of the kind ever seen in the
world. Let there be an inner and outer court in front
of the palace, and a spacious garden; but above all
things, provide a safe treasure-house, and fill it with gold
and silver. Let there be also kitchens and storehouses,
stables full of the finest horses, with their equerries
^nd grooms and hunting equipage, officers, attendants,
and slaves, both men and women, to form a retinue
for the princess and myself Go and execute my
wishes."
When Aladdin gave these commands to the genie, the
sun was set. The next morning at daybreak the genie
presented himself, and, having obtained Aladdin's con-
sent, transported him in a moment to the palace he had
made. The genie led him through all the apartments,
where he found officers and slaves, habited according
to their rank and the services to which they were ap-
pointed. The genie then showed him the treasury,
which was opened by a treasurer, where Aladdin saw
large vases of different sizes, piled up to the top with
money, ranged all around the chamber. The genie
thence led him to the stables, where were some of the
finest horses in the world, and the grooms busy in dress-
78 Greatest Short Stories
ing them ; from there they went to the storehouses,
which were filled with all things necessary both for food
and ornament.
When Aladdin had examined every portion of the
palace, and particularly the hall with the four-and-twenty
windows, and found it far to exceed his fondest expecta-
tions, he said, "Genie, there is one thing wanting, a fine
carpet for the princess to walk upon from the sultan's
palace to mine. Lay one down immediately." The
genie disappeared, and Aladdin saw what he desired exe-
cuted in an instant. The genie then returned, and car-
ried him to his own home.
When the sultan's porters came to open the gates,
they were amazed to find what had been an unoccupied
garden filled up with a magnificent palace, and a splendid
carpet extending to it all the way from the sultan's pal-
ace. They told the strange tidings to the grand vizier,
who informed the sukan, who exclaimed, " It must be*
Aladdin's palace, which I gave him leave to build
for my daughter. He has wished to surprise us,
and let us see what wonders can be done in only one
night."
Aladdin, on his being conveyed by the genie to his
own home, requested his mother to go to the Princess
Buddir al Buddoor, and tell her that the palace would be
ready for her reception in the evening. She went, at-
tended by her women slaves, in the same order as on the
preceding day. Shortly after her arrival at the princess's
apartment, the sultan himself came in, and was surprised
to find her, whom he knew as his suppliant at his divan
in such humble guise, to be now more richly and sump-
tuously attired than his own daughter. This gave him
a higher opinion of Aladdin, who took such care of his
mother, and made her share his wealth and honors.
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 79
Shortly after her departure, Aladdin, mounting his horse,
and attended by his retinue of magnificent attendants,
left his paternal home forever, and went to the palace in
the same pomp as on the day before. Nor did he for-
get to take with him the Wonderful Lamp, to which he
owed all his good fortune, nor to wear the Ring which
was given him as a talisman. The sultan entertained
Aladdin with the utmost magnificence, and at night, on
the conclusion of the marriage ceremonies, the princess
took leave of the sultan her father. Bands of music led
the procession, followed by a hundred state ushers, and
the like number of black mutes, in two files, with their
officers at their head. Four hundred of the sultan's
young pages carried flambeaux on each side, which, to-
gether with the illuminations of the sultan's and Alad-
din's palaces, made it as light as day. In this order the
princess, conveyed in her litter, and accompanied also
by Aladdin's mother, carried in a superb litter and at-
tended by her women slaves, proceeded on the carpet
which was spread from the sultan's palace to that of
Aladdin. On her arrival Aladdin was ready to receive
her at the entrance, and led her into a large hall, illumi-
nated with an infinite number of wax candles, where a
noble feast was served up. The dishes were of massy
gold, and contained the most delicate viands. The
vases, basins, and goblets were gold also, and of ex-
quisite workmanship, and all the other ornaments and
embellishments of the hall were answerable to this dis-
play. The princess, dazzled to see so much riches col-
lected in one place, said to Aladdin, *' I thought, prince,
that nothing in the world was so beautiful as the sultan
my father's palace, but the sight of this hall alone is
sufficient to show I was deceived."
When the supper was ended, there entered a company
8o Greatest Short Stories
of female dancers,^ who performed, according to the cus-
tom of the country, singing at the same time verses in
praise of the bride and bridegroom. About midnight
Aladdin's mother conducted the bride to the nuptial
apartment, and he soon after retired.
The next morning the attendants of Aladdin presented
themselves to dress him, and brought him another habit,
as rich and magnificent as that worn the day before. He
then ordered one of the horses to be got ready, mounted
him, and went in the midst of a large troop of slaves to
the sultan's palace to entreat him to take a repast in the
princess's palace, attended by his grand vizier and all
the lords of his court. The sultan consented with pleas-
ure, rose up immediately, and, preceded by the principal
officers of his palace and followed by all the great lords
of his court, accompanied Aladdin.
The nearer the sultan approached Aladdin's palace,
the more he was struck with its beauty ; but when he
entered it, came into the hall, and saw the windows en-
riched with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, all large, perfect
stones, he was completely surprised, and said to his son-
in-law, *' This palace is one of the wonders of the world ;
for where in all the world besides shall we find walls built
of massy gold and silver, and diamonds, rubies, and eme-
ralds composing the windows? But what most surprises
me is, that a hall of this magnificence should be le-ft with
one of its windows incomplete and unfinished." "Sire,"
answered Aladdin, " the omission was by design, since I
wished that you should have the glory of finishing this
hall." <*I take your intention kindly," said the sultan,
" and will give orders about it immediately."
After the sultan had finished this magnificent enter-
1 These were the •* Nautch girls," attached to this day to all
Eastern courts.
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 8i
tainment, provided for him and for his court by Alad-
din, he was informed that the jewellers and goldsmiths
attended; upon. which he returned to the hall, and
showed them the window which was unfinished. *' I
sent for you," said he, ''to fit up this window in as great
perfection as the rest. Examine them well, and make
all the dispatch you can."
The jewellers and goldsmiths examined the three-and-
twenty windows with great attention, and after they had
consulted together, to know what each could furnish,
they returned, and presented themselves before the sul-
tan, whose principal jeweller, undertaking to speak for
the rest, said, " Sire, we are all willing to exert our ut-
most care and industry to obey you ; but among us all
we cannot furnish jewels enough for so great a work."
" I have more than are necessary," said the sultan ;
"come to my palace, and you shall choose what may
answer your purpose."
When the sultan returned to his palace, he ordered
his jewels to be brought out, and the jewellers took a
great quantity, particularly those Aladdin had made him
a present of, which they soon used, without making any
great advance in their work. They came again several
times for more, and in a month's time had not finished
half their work. In short, they used all the jewels the
sultan had, and borrowed of the vizier, but yet the work
was not half done.
Aladdin, who knew that all the sultan's endeavors to
make this window like the rest were in vain, sent for the
jewellers and goldsmiths, and not only commanded them
to desist from their work, but ordered them to undo
what they had begun, and to carry all their jewels back
to the sultan and to the vizier. They undid in a few
hours what they had been six weeks about, and retired,
6
82 Greatest Short Stories
leaving Aladdin alone in the hall. He took the lamp,
which he carried about him, rubbed it, and presently
the genie appeared. " Genie," said Aladdin, " I ordered
thee to leave one of the four-and-twenty windows of this
hall imperfect, and thou hast executed my commands
punctually ; now I would have thee make it like the
rest." The genie immediately disappeared. Aladdin
went out of the hall, and returning soon after, found
the window, as he wished it to be, like the others.
In the meantime, the jewellers and goldsmiths repaired
to the palace, and were introduced into the sultan's pres-
ence ; where the chief jeweller presented the precious
stones which he had brought back. The sultan asked
them if Aladdin had given them any reason for so doing,
2tnd they answering that he had given them none, he
ordered a horse to be brought, which he mounted, and
rode to his son-in-law's palace, with some few attend-
ants on foot, to inquire why he had ordered the com-
pletion of the window to be stopped. Aladdin met him
at the gate, and without giving any reply to his inquiries
conducted him to the grand saloon, where the sultan,
to his great surprise, found the window, which was left
imperfect, to correspond exactly with the others. He
fancied at first that he was mistaken, and examined the
two windows on each side, and afterward all the four-
and-twenty; but when he was convinced that the win-
dow which several workmen had been so long about
was finished in so short a time, he embraced Aladdin
and kissed him between his eyes. " My son," said he,
" what a man you are to do such surprising things
always in the twinkling of an eye ! there is not your
fellow in the world ; the more I know, the more I ad-
mire you."
The sultan returned to the palace, and after this went
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 83
frequently to the window to contemplate and admire the
wonderful palace of his son-in-law.
Aladdin did not confine himself in his palace, but
went with much state, sometimes to one mosque, and
sometimes to another, to prayers, or to visit the grand
vizier or the principal lords of the court. Every time
he went out, he caused two slaves, who walked by the
side of his horse, to throw handfuls of money among
the people as he passed through the streets and squares.
This generosity gained him the love and blessings of the
people, and it was common for them to swear by his
head.^ Thus Aladdin, while he paid all respect to the
sultan, won by his affable behavior and liberality the
affections of the people.
Aladdin had conducted himself in this manner several
years when the African magician, who had for some
years dismissed him from his recollection, determined
to inform himself with certainty whether he perished,
as he supposed, in the subterranean cave or not.. After
he had resorted to a long course of magic ceremonies,
and had formed a horoscope by which to ascertain Alad-
din's fate, what was his surprise to find the appearances
to declare that Aladdin, instead of dying in the cave,
had made his escape, and was living in royal splendor,
by the aid of the genie of the wonderful lamp !
On the very next day, the magician set out and trav-
elled with the utmost haste to the capital of China, where,
on his arrival, he took up his lodgings in a khan.
He then quickly learnt about the wealth, charities,
happiness, and splendid palace of Prince Aladdin. Di-
rectly he saw the wonderful fabric, he knew that none
but the genies, the slaves of the lamp, could have per-
1 There is a trace of this custom in Joseph's swearing to his
brethren, " By the life of Pharaoh, ye are spies I "
84 Greatest Short Stories
formed such wonders, and, piqued to the quick at Alad-
din's high estate, he returned to the khan.
On his return he had recourse to an operation ol
geomancy to find out where the lamp was — whether
Aladdin carried it about with him, or where he left it
The result of his consultation informed him, to his great
joy, that the lamp was in the palace. " Well," said he,
rubbing his hands in glee, " I shall have the lamp,
and I shall make Aladdin return to his original mean
condition."
The next day the magician learnt, from the chief su-
perintendent of the khan where he lodged, that Aladdin
had gone on a hunting expedition,^ which was to last for
1 " But even in the East, where the qualities of the chetah ap-
pear to be best appreciated, and his faculties to be turned to most
account, it would seem that he is not employed in hunting by all
classes of the people indiscriminately ; but, on the contrary, that
he is reserved for the especial amusement of the nobles and princes
of the land rather than used for purposes of real and general ad-
vantage. In this respect, and, indeed, in many others, as will be
seen by the following brief account of the mode in which the chase
with the hunting leopard is conducted, it bears a close resemblance
to the ancient sport of hawking, so prevalent throughout Europe
in the days of feudal tyranny, but scarcely practised at the pres-
ent day, except by the more splendid slaves of Asiatic despotism.
The animal or animals — for occasionally several of them are em-
ployed at the same time — are carried to the field in low chariots,
on which they are kept chained and hooded, in order to deprive
them of the power and temptation to leap forth before the ap-
pointed time. When they are thus brought within view of a herd
of antelopes, which generally consists of five or six females and a
male, they are unchained and their hoods removed, their keepers
directing their attention to the prey, which, as they do not hunt by
smell, it is necessary that they should have constantly in sight.
When this is done, the animal does not at once start toward the
object of his pursuit, but, seemingly aware that he would have no
chance of overtaking an antelope, winds cautiously along the
ground, concealing himself as much as possible ; and when he has
nearly reached the unsuspecting herd, breaks forth upon them un-
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 85
eight days, of which only three had expired. The ma-
gician wanted to know no more. He resolved at once
on his plans. He went to a coppersmith, and asked for
a dozen copper lamps ; the master of the shop told him
he had not so many by him, but if he would have pa-
tience till the next day, he would have them ready. The
magician appointed his time, and desired him to take
care that they should be handsome and well polished.
The next day the magician called for the twelve lamps,
paid the man his full price, put them into a basket hang-
ing on his arm, and went directly to Aladdin's palace.
As he approached, he began crying, " Who will exchange
'old lamps for new ones? " As he went along, a crowd of
children collected, who hooted, and thought him, as did
all who chanced to be passing by, a madman or a fool,
to offer to exchange new lamps for old ones.
The African magician regarded not their scoffs, hoot-
ings, or all they could say to him, but still continued
crying, " Who will exchange old lamps for new ones ? "
He repeated this so often, walking backward and forward
in front of the palace, that the princess, who was then
in the hall with the four-and-twenty windows, hearing a
man cry something, and seeing a great mob crowding
awares, and after five or six tremendous bounds, which he executes
with almost incredible velocity, darts at once upon his terrified
victim, strangles him in an instant, and takes his fill of blood. In
the meanwhile the keeper quietly approaches the scene of slaugh-
ter, caresses the successful animal, and throws to him pieces of
meat to amuse him and keep him quiet, while he blinds him with
the hood, and replaces him on the chariot, to which he is again
attached by his chain. But if, as is not unfrequently the case, the
herd should have taken the alarm, and the chetah should prove
unsuccessful, he never attempts to pursue them, but returns to
his master with mortified and dejected air, to be again let slip
at a fresh quarry whenever a fit opportunity occurs." — Tower
Menagerie, pp. 66, 67.
86 Greatest Short Stories
about him, sent one of her women slaves to know what
he cried.
The slave returned, laughing so heartily that the prin-
cess rebuked her. " Madam," answered the slave, laugh-
ing still, " who can forbear laughing, to see an old man
with a basket on his arm, full of fine new lamps, asking
to exchange them for old ones ? The children and mob
crowding about him, so that he can hardly stir, make all
the noise they can in derision of him.'*
Another female slave, hearing this, said, " Now you
speak of lamps, I know not whether the princess may
have observed it, but there is an old one upon a shelf of
the Prince Aladdin's robing-room, and whoever owns it
will not be sorry to find a new one in its stead. If the
princess chooses, she may have the pleasure of trying if
this old man is so silly as to give a new lamp for an old
one, without taking anything for the exchange."
The princess, who knew not the value of the lamp
and the interest that Aladdin had to keep it safe, entered
into the pleasantry, and commanded a slave to take it
and make the exchange. The slave obeyed, went out
of the hall, and no sooner got to the palace gates than he
saw the African magician, called to him, and showing him
the old lamp, said, " Give me a new lamp for this."
The magician never doubted but this was the lamp he
wanted. There could be no other such in this palace,
where every utensil was gold or silver. He snatched
it eagerly out of the slave's hand, and thrusting it as far
as he could into his breast, offered him his basket, and
bade him choose which he liked best. The slave picked
out one and carried it to the princess ; but the exchange
was no sooner made than the place rang with the shouts
of the children, deriding the magician's folly.
The African magician stayed no longer near the palace,
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp ^'j
nor cried any more, ** New lamps for old ones," but
made the best of his way to his khan. He had accom-
plished his purpose, and by his silence he got rid of the
children and the mob.
As soon as he was out of sight of the two palaces, he
hastened down the least-frequented streets ; and having
no more occasion for his lamps or basket, set all down
in a spot where nobody saw him ; then going down an-
other street or two, he walked till he came to one of the
city gates, and pursuing his way through the suburbs,
' which were very extensive, at length reached a lonely spot,
where he stopped till the darkness of the night, as the
most suitable time for the design he had in contempla-
tion. When it became quite dark, he pulled the lamp
out of his breast and rubbed it. At that summons the
genie appeared, and said, *' What wouldst thou have ? I
am ready to obey thee as thy slave, and the slave of all
those who have that lamp in their hands ; both I and the
other slaves of the lamp." " I command thee," replied
the magician, " to transport me immediately, and the
palace which thou and the other slaves of the lamp have
built in this city, with all the people in it, to Africa."
The genie made no reply, but with the assistance of the
other genies, the slaves of the lamp, immediately trans-
ported him and the palace, entire, to the spot whither he
had been desired to convey it.
Early the next morning, when the sultan, according
to custom, went to contemplate and admire Aladdin's
palace, his amazement was unbounded to find that it
could nowhere be seeii. He could not comprehend how
so large a palace, which he had seen plainly every day for
some years, should vanish so soon and not leave the
least trace behind. In his perplexity he ordered the
grand vizier to be sent for with expedition.
88 Greatest Short Stories
The grand vizier, who, in secret, bore no good will to
Aladdin, intimated his suspicion that the palace was built
by magic, and that Aladdin had made his hunting excur-
sion an excuse for the removal of his palace with the
same suddenness with which it had been erected. He
induced the sultan to send a detachment of his guard,
and to have Aladdin seized as a prisoner of state. On
his son-in-law's being brought before him, he would not
hear a word from him, but ordered him to be put to
death. The decree caused so much discontent among
the people, whose affection Aladdin had secured by his
largesses and charities, that the sultan, fearful of an in-
surrection, was obliged to grant him his life. When
Aladdin found himself at liberty, he again addressed the
sultan : " Sire, I pray you to let me know the crime by
which I have thus lost the favor of thy countenance."
" Your crime ! " answered the sultan, "wretched man !
do you not know it? Follow me, and I will show you."
The sultan then took Aladdin into the apartment from
which he was wont to look at and admire his pal-
ace, and said, "You ought to know where your palace
stood ; look, mind, and tell me what has become of it."
Aladdin did so, and being utterly amazed at the loss of
his palace, was speechless. At last recovering himself,
he said, " It is true, I do not see the palace. It is van-
ished ; but I had no concern in its removal. I beg you
to give me forty days, and if in that time I cannot restore
it, I will offer my head to be disposed of at your pleas-
ure." " I give you the time you ask, but at the end of
forty days, forget not to present yourself before me."
Aladdin went out of the sultan's palace in a condition
of exceeding humiliation. The lords who had courted
him in the days of his splendor, now declined to have
any communication with him. For three days he wan-
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 89
dered about the city, exciting the wonder and compassion
of the multitude by asking everybody he met if he had
seen his palace, or could tell him anything of it. On
the third day he wandered into the country, and as he
was approaching a river, he fell down the bank with so
much violence that he rubbed the ring which the magician
had given him so hard by holding on the rock to save
himself, that immediately the same genie appeared whom
he had seen in the cave where the magician had left him.
" What wouldst thou have?" said the genie, ** I am ready
to obey thee as thy slave, and the slave of all those that
have that ring on their finger; both I and the other
slaves of the ring."
Aladdin, agreeably surprised at an offer of help so little
expected, replied, *' Genie, show me where the palace I
caused to be built now stands, or transport it back where
it first stood." ** Your command," answered the genie,
" is not wholly in my power ; I am only the slave of the
ring, and not of the lamp." " I command thee, then,"
replied Aladdin, " by the power of the ring, to transport
me to the spot where my palace stands, in what part of
the world soever it may be." These words were no
sooner out of his mouth, than the genie transported him
into Africa, to the midst of a large plain, where his pal-
ace stood, at no great distance from a city, and placing
him exactly under the window of the princess's apart-
ment, left him.
Now it happened that shortly after Aladdin had been
transported by the slave of the ring to the neighborhood
of his palace, one of the attendants of the Princess
Buddir al Buddoor, looking through the window, per-
ceived him and instantly told her mistress. The princess,
who could not beUeve the joyful tidings, hastened her-
self to the window, and seeing Aladdin, immediately
90 Greatest Short Stories
opened it. The noise of opening the window made
Aladdin turn his head that way, and perceiving the prin-
cess, he saluted her with an air that expressed his joy.
** To lose no time," said she to him, " I have sent to have
the private door opened for you ; enter and come up."
The private door, which was just under the princess's
apartment, was soon opened and Aladdin conducted up
into the chamber. It is impossible to express the joy of
both at seeing each other after so cruel a separation.
After embracing and shedding tears of joy, they sat down,
and Aladdin said, " I beg of you, princess, to tell me
what is become of an old lamp which stood upon a shelf
in my robing-chamber."
" Alas ! " answered the princess, " I was afraid our
misfortune might be owing to that lamp; and what
grieves me most is, that I have been the cause of it. I
was foolish enough to exchange the old lamp for a new
one, and the next morning I found myself in this
unknown country, which I am told is Africa."
" Princess," said Aladdin, interrupting her, " you have
explained all by telling me we are in Africa. I desire
you only to tell me if you know where the old lamp now
is." *' The African magician carries it carefully wrapt
up in his bosom," said the princess ; " and this I can
assure you, because he pulled it out before me, and
showed it to me in triumph."
" Princess," said Aladdin, '* I think I have found the
means to deliver you and to regain possession of the lamp,
on which all ray prosperity depends; to execute this
design, it is necessary for me to go to the town. I shall
return by noon, and will then tell you what must be done
by you to insure success. In the mean time, I shall dis-
guise myself, and I beg that the private door may be
opened at the first knock."
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 91
When Aladdin was out of the palace, he looked round
him on all sides, and perceiving a peasant going into the
country, hastened after him ; and when he had over-
taken him, made a proposal to him to exchange clothes,
which the man agreed to. When they had made the
exchange, the countryman went about his business, and
Aladdin entered the neighboring city. After traversing
several streets, he came to that part of the town where
the merchants and artisans had their particular streets
according to their trades.^ He went into that of the
druggists ; and entering one of the largest and best fur-
nished shops, asked the druggist if he had a certain
powder, which he named.
The druggist, judging Aladdin by his habit to be very
poor, told him he had it, but that it was very dear ; upon
which Aladdin, penetrating his thoughts, pulled out his
purse, and showing him some gold, asked for half a
dram of the powder ; which the druggist weighed and
gave him, telling him the price was a piece of gold.
Aladdin put the money into his hand, and hastened to
the palace, which he entered at once by the private
door. When he came into the princess's apartment, he
said to her, " Princess, you must take your part in the
scheme which I propose for our deliverance. You must
overcome your aversion to the magician, and assume a
most friendly manner toward him, and ask him to
oblige you by partaking of an entertainment in your
apartments. Before he leaves, ask him to exchange
cups with you, which he, gratified at the honor you do
him, will gladly do, when you must give him the cup
1 This location of persons of one trade in one part of a town
was once common in England. Hence the '* Draper's Lane" and
" Butcher's Row," found in many large j:owns ; and the " Old
Jewry,*' " Lombard Street," and " Cheapside," of London.
92 Greatest Short Stories
containing this powder. On drinking it he will instantly
fall asleep, and we will obtain the lamp, whose slaves
will do all our bidding, and restore us and the palace to
the capital of China."
The princess obeyed to the utmost her husband's
instructions. She assumed a look of pleasure on the
next visit of the magician, and asked him to an enter-
tainment, an invitation which he most willingly accepted.
At the close of the evening, during which the princess
had tried all she could to please him, she asked him
to exchange cups with her, and giving the signal, had
the drugged cup brought to her, which she gave to
the magician. He drank it out of compliment to the
princess to the very last drop, when he fell backward
lifeless on the sofa.
The princess, in anticipation of the success of her
scheme, had so placed her women from the great hall
to the foot of the staircase, that the word was no sooner
given that the African magician was fallen backward,
than the door was opened, and Aladdin admitted to the
hall. The princess rose from her seat, and ran, over-
joyed, to embrace him ; but he stopped her, and said,
" Princess, retire to your apartment ; and let me be left
alone, while I endeavor to transport you back to China
as speedily as you were brought from thence."
When the princess, her women, and slaves were gone
out of the hall, Aladdin shut the door, and going directly
to the dead body of the magician, opened his vest, took
out the lamp which was carefully wrapped up ; and
when he rubbed it, the genie immediately appeared.
*' Genie," said Aladdin, "I command thee to transport
this palace instantly to the place whence it was brought
hither." The genie bowed his head in token of obedi-
ence, and disappeared. Immediately the palace was
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 93
transported into China, and its removal was only felt by
two little shocks, the one when it was lifted up, the
other when it was set down, and both in a very short
interval of time.
On the morning after the restoration of Aladdin's
palace, the sultan was looking out of his window and
mourning over the fate of his daughter, when he thought
that he saw the vacancy created by the disappearance of
the palace to be again filled up.
On looking more attentively, he was convinced
beyond the power of doubt that it was his son-in-law's
palace. Joy and gladness succeeded to sorrow and
grief He at once ordered a horse to be saddled, which
he mounted that instant, thinking he could not make
haste enough to the place.
Aladdin rose that morning by daybreak, put on one
of the most magnificent habits his wardrobe afforded,
and went up into the hall of twenty-four windows,
from which he perceived the sultan approaching, and
received him at the foot of the great staircase, helping
him to dismount.
He led the sultan into the princess's apartment. The
happy father embraced his daughter with tears^of joy ; and
the princess, on her side, afforded similar testimonies of
her extreme pleasure. After a short interval, devoted to
mutual explanations of all that had happened, the sultan
restored Aladdin to his favor, and expressed his regret
for the apparent harshness with which he had treated
him. ** My son," said he, " be not displeased at my
proceedings against you ; they arose from my paternal
love, and therefore you ought to forgive the excesses
to which it hurried me." " Sire," replied Aladdin, " I
have not the least reason to complain of your conduct,
since you did nothing but what your duty required.
94 Greatest Short Stories
This infamous magician, the basest of men, was the sole
cause of my misfortune."
The African magician, who was thus twice foiled in
his endeavor to ruin Aladdin, had a younger brother,
who was as skilful a magician as himself, and exceeded
him in wickedness and hatred of mankind. By mutual
agreement they communicated with each other once a
year, however widely separate might be their places of
residence from each other. The younger brother not
having received as usual his annual communication,
prepared to take a horoscope and ascertain his brother's
proceedings. He, as well as his brother, always carried
a geomantic square instrument about him. He prepared
the sand,^ cast the points, and drew the figures. On
examining the planetary crystal, he found that his
brother was no longer living, but had been poisoned;
and by another observation, that he was in the capital
of the kingdom of China ; also, that the person who had
poisoned him was of mean birth, though married to a
princess, a sultan's daughter.
When the magician had informed himself of his
brother's fate, he resolved immediately to revenge his
death, and at once departed for China; where, after
crossing plains, rivers, mountains, deserts, and a long
tract of country without delay, he arrived after incredible
fatigues. When he came to the capital of China, he
took a lodging at a khan. His magic art soon revealed
to him that Aladdin was the person who had been the
1 Reml or Rami signifies " sand prepared," or a preparation of
sand on which are marked certain figures serving for a kind of
divination, which we call Geomancy, and the Arabs and Turks
Kikmut al Reml. These, disposed in a certain number on many
unequal lines, are described also with a pen on paper ; and the
person who practises divination by this art is called Rammal. —
D'Herbelot, art. Rami.
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 95
cause of the death of his brother. He had heard, too,
all the persons of repute in the city talking of a woman
called Fatima, who was retired from the world, and of
the miracles she wrought. As he fancied that this
woman might be serviceable to him in the project he
had conceived, he made more minute inquiries, and
requested to be informed more particularly who that
holy woman was, and what sort of miracles she
performed.
" What ! " said the person whom he addressed, " have
you never seen or heard of her? She is the admiration
of the whole town, for her fasting, her austerities, and
her exemplary life. Except Mondays and Fridays, she
never stirs out of her little cell ; and on those days on
which she comes into the town she does an infinite deal
of good : for there is not a person who is diseased but
she puts her hand on him and cures him."
Having ascertained the place where the hermitage of
this holy woman was, the magician went at night, and
plunging a poniard into her heart, killed this good
woman. In the morning he dyed his face of the same
hue as hers, and arraying himself in her garb, taking
her veil, the large necklace she wore round her
waist, and her stick, went straight to the palace of
Aladdin.
As soon as the people saw the holy woman, as they
imagined him to be, they presently gathered about him
in a great crowd. Some begged his blessing, others
kissed his hand, and others, more reserved, only the hem
of his garment; while others, suffering from disease,
stooped for him to lay his hands upon them ; which he
did, muttering some words in form of prayer, and, in
short, counterfeiting so well, that everybody took him
for the holy woman. He came at last to the square
96 Greatest Short Stories
before Aladdin's palace. The crowd and the noise
were so great that the princess, who was in the hall of
four-and- twenty windows, heard it, and asked what was
the matter. One of her women told her it was a great
crowd of people collected about the holy woman to be
cured of diseases by the imposition of her hands.
The princess, who had long heard of this holy woman,
but had never seen her, was very desirous to have some
conversation with her ; perceiving which, the chief officer
told her it was an easy matter to bring the woman to her,
if she desired and commanded it ; and the princess ex-
pressing her wishes, he immediately sent four slaves for
the pretended holy woman.
As soon as the crowd saw the attendants from the
palace, they made way; and the magician, perceiving
also that they were coming for him, advanced to meet
them, overjoyed to find his plot succeed so well. " Holy
woman," said one of the slaves, " the princess wants to
see you, and has sent us for you." " The princess does
me too great an honor," replied the false Fatima; "I
am ready to obey her command," and at the same time
followed the slaves to the palace.
When the pretended Fatima had made her obeisance,
the princess said, " My good mother, I have one thing
to request, which you must not refuse me ; it is, to stay
with me, that you may edify me with your way of living,
and that I may learn from your good example." " Prin-
cess," said the counterfeit Fatima, " I beg of you not to
ask what I cannot consent to without neglecting my
prayers and devotion." "That shall be no hindrance to
you," answered the princess ; " I have a great many
apartments unoccupied ; you shall choose which you like
best, and have as much liberty to perform your devotions
as if you were in your own cell."
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 97
The magician, who really desired nothing more than
to introduce himself into the palace, where it would be
a much easier matter for him to execute his designs, did
not long excuse himself from accepting the obliging
offer which the princess made him. " Princess," said
he, " whatever resolution a poor wretched woman as
I am may have made to renounce the pomp and
grandeur of this world, I dare not presume to oppose
the will and commands of so pious and charitable a
princess."
Upon this the princess, rising up, said, "Come with
me, I will show you what vacant apartments I have, that
you may make choice of that you Hke best." The magi-
cian followed the princess, and of all the apartments
she showed him, made choice of that which was the^
worst, saying that was too good for him, and that he
only accepted it to please her.
Afterward the princess would have brought him back
again into the great hall to make him dine with her ; but
he, considering that he should then be obliged to show
his face, which he had always taken care to conceal with
Fatima's veil, and fearing that the princess should find
out that he was not Fatima, begged of her earnestly to
excuse him, telling her that he never ate anything but
bread and dried fruits, and desired to eat that slight
repast in his own apartment. The princess granted his
request, saying, " You may be as free here, good mother,
as if you were in your own cell : I will order you a
dinner, but remember I expect you as soon as you have
finished your repast."
After the princess had dined, and the false Fatima
had been sent for by one of the attendants, he again
waited upon her. " My good mother," said the prin-
cess, " I am overjoyed to see so holy a woman as your-
7
98 Greatest Short Stories
self, who will confer a blessing upon this palace. But
now I am speaking of the palace, pray how do you like
it? And before I show it all to you, tell me first what
you think of this hall."
Upon this question, the counterfeit Fatima surveyed
the hall from one end to the other. When he had
examined it well, he said to the princess, "As far as
such a solitary being as I am, who am unacquainted with
what the world calls beautiful, can judge, this hall is truly
admirable ; there wants but one thing." " What is that,
good mother?" demanded the princess; "tell me, I
conjure you. For my part, I always believed, and have
heard say, it wanted nothing ; but if it does, it shall be
supplied."
"Princess," said the false Fatima, with great dissimu-
lation, " forgive me the liberty I have taken ; but my
opinion is, if it can be of any importance, that if a
roc's egg were hung up in the middle of the dome, this
hall would have no parallel in the four quarters of the
world, and your palace would be the wonder of the uni-
verse."
"My good mother," said the princess, "what is a
roc, and where may one get an egg?" "Princess,"
replied the pretended Fatima, "it is a bird of prodi-
gious size, which inhabits the summit of Mount Cau-
casus ; the architect who built your palace can get
you one."
After the princess had thanked the false Fatima for
what she believed her good advice, she conversed with
her upon other matters ; but could not forget the roc's
egg, which she resolved to request of Aladdin when next
he should visit his apartments. He did so in the course
of that evening, and shortly after he entered, the prin-
cess thus addressed him : " I always believed that our
Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp 99
palace was the most superb, magnificent, and complete
in the world : but I will tell you now what it wants, and
that is a roc's egg hung up in the midst of the dome."
" Princess," replied Aladdin, " it is enough that you
think it wants such an ornament ; you shall see by the
diligence which I use in obtaining it, that there is nothing
which I would not do for your sake."
Aladdin left the Princess Buddir al Buddoor that
moment, and went up into the hall of four-and-twenty
windows, where, pulHng out of his bosom the lamp, which
after the danger he had been exposed to he always
carried about him, he rubbed it ; upon which the genie
immediately appeared. " Genie," said Aladdin, " I
command thee, in the name of this lamp, bring a roc's
egg to be hung up in the middle of the dome of the hall
of the palace." Aladdin had no sooner pronounced
these words, than the hall shook as if ready to fall ; and
the genie said in a loud and terrible voice, " Is it not
enough that I and the other slaves of the lamp have
done everything for you, but you, by an unheard-of
ingratitude, must command me to bring my master, and
hang him up in the midst of this dome ? This attempt
deserves that you, the princess, and the palace, should
be immediately reduced to ashes ; but you are spared
because this request does not come from yourself. Its
true author is the brother of the African magician, your
enemy whom you have destroyed. He is now in your
palace, disguised in the habit of the holy woman Fatima,
whom he has murdered ; at his suggestion your wife
makes this pernicious demand. His design is to kill
you, therefore take care of yourself." After these words
the genie disappeared.
Aladdin resolved at once what to do. He returned
to the princess's apartment, and without mentioning a
icx> Greatest Short Stories
word of what had happened, sat down, and complained
of a great pain which had suddenly seized his head. On
hearing this, the princess told him how she had invited
the holy Fatima to stay with her, and that she was now
in the palace ; and at the request of the prince, or-
dered her to be summoned at once.
When the pretended Fatima came, Aladdin said,
" Come hither, good mother ; I am glad to see you here
at so fortunate a time. I am tormented with a violent
pain in my head, and request your assistance, and hope
you will not refuse me that cure which you impart to
afflicted persons." So saying, he arose, but held down
his head. The counterfeit Fatima advanced toward
him, with his hand all the time on a dagger concealed in
his girdle under his gown ; which Aladdin observing, he
snatched the weapon from his hand, pierced him to the
heart with his own dagger, and then pushed him down
on the floor.
"My dear prince, what have you done?" cried the
princess, in surprise. "You have killed the holy
woman ! " " No, my princess," answered Aladdin, with
emotion, "I have not killed Fatima, but a villain who
would have assassinated me if I had not prevented him.
This wicked man," added he, uncovering his face, " is
the brother of the magician who attempted our ruin.
He has strangled the true Fatima, and disguised -himself
in her clothes with intent to murder me." Aladdin then
informed her how the genie had told him these facts,
and how narrowly she and the palace had escaped de-
struction through his treacherous suggestion which had
led to her request.
Thus was Aladdin delivered from the persecution of
the two brothers, who were magicians. Within a few
years afterward, the sultan died in a good old age,
. Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp loi
and as he left no male children, the Princess Buddir al
Buddoor succeeded him, and she and Aladdin reigned
together many years, and left a numerous and illustrious
posterity.
Note.— In regard to the art with which this story is constructed,
let us note one or two points. First, though we get an impression
of boundless power, a perfect riot of possibility, on examination we
are struck with the restraint shown by Aladdin. He really does
but one thing, namely, woo and win the princess, and he makes use
of the lamp only to attain and keep her. Before he sees her he
seems to think of nothing more than to get food for himself and
his mother. After he has obtained the princess and built his
palace, we may almost imagine he never so much as calls up his
genie till it is absolutely necessary in order to protect himself.
Many a man in history has risen by perfectly natural means from
a position of humble birth to rule an empire, and, like Aladdin, he
has in so doing put off the manners of a peasant and taken on
those of a king. Second, we know that every rise to power
creates enemies, who are typified in the magician and his brother.
Doubtless Aladdin did not appreciate all his good fortune till he
had lost it and was threatened with the loss of his head also.
Third, all power has its limit, and in this story that truth is illus-
trated by the discovery that even the genie of the lamp, all power-
ful as he seems to be, has his master, the mysterious roc. Had
Aladdin been foolish enough, in a fit of vanity, to insist on having
the roc's egg, we can imagine his complete and final downfall ;
but as soon as he learns the truth he abandons his request, as
any wise person would do. — Editor.
Ill
RIP VAN WINKLE
RIP VAN WINKLE
By WASHINGTON IRVING
INTRODUCTORY
WHAT IHE SHORT STORY OWES TO THE
ESSAY
THAT intangible something known as
" prose style " was a contribution to
English literature made by the essayists,
whose art rose with Addison, Steele, Swift, Gold-
smith, and Johnson, reached its climax in Lamb,
with special developments in Macaulay and De
Quincey, and has since sunk into desuetude. Most
readers know the stories of the " Decameron " and
the ** Arabian Nights " only in translations, in which
any beauties of language in the originals may be
supposed to have been partly lost ; but it may be
observed that in neither do we have so much as a
single line of description, either of scenes or of
characters. The facts are stated without embellish-
ment, and the characters are known only by their
actions. All the wonders of Aladdin's palace do
not so much as excite a single metaphor or an
ejaculation of surprise. Both stories are the pur-
est possible types of simple narrative.
In ** Rip Van Winkle " we have a modern Ara-
bian Nights wonder story, but it is splendidly
io6 Greatest Short Stories
clothed with all the art of one of the most ac-
complished of the essayists. It has description,
it has humor, it has character-drawing, all lacking
in the earlier stories; and at the same time the
actual wonders shrink almost to insignificance
beside those of Aladdin's lamp. All the essay-
writers who were really contributors to the de-
velopment of the language were also more or less
story-writers, — Addison, with his Sir Roger de
Coverly; Swift, with his Gulliver; Lamb, with
his story of the origin of roast pig. Emerson
and Carlyle, who were great philosophers, but in
no sense story-writers, made little or no contribu-
tion to English style.
As the powers of fiction expanded, it absorbed
not only the best in the art of the essayist, but also
much that had before belonged to poetry ; and as
fiction has grown, poetry has dwindled. The be-
ginning of both these tendencies we find in " Rip
Van Winkle," not in the construction and develop-
ment of the story, but in the language with which
the plot is clothed. The words flow in melodious
rhythm ; the whimsicalities and light, pleasing fan-
cies of the essayists appear at every turn, and we
also note the touches of poetic beauty in descrip-
tions of the mountains which no mere essayist
would venture upon. Here we have in concrete
form the progress in story-writing of a hundred
years (following the appearance in English of
the Arabian Nights), bringing us down to the
Rip Van Winkle 107
time of Sir Walter Scott, whose influence on
the novel (but not on the short story) was so
revolutionary.
RIP VAN WINKLE
A POSTHUMOUS WRITING OF DIEDRICH
KNICKERBOCKER
By Woden, God of Saxons,
From whence comes Wensday, that is Wodensday,
Truth is a thing that ever I will keep
Unto thylke day in which I creep into
My sepulchre Cartwright
[The following Tale was found among the papers of the late
Diedrich Knickerbocker, an old gentleman of New York, who
was very curious in the Dutch history of the province, and the
manners of the descendants from its primitive settlers. His
historical researches, however, did not lie so much among books
as among men ; for the former are lamentably scanty on his favo-
rite topics ; whereas he found the old burghers, and still more
their wives, rich in that legendary lore so invaluable to true his-
tory. Whenever, therefore, he happened upon a genuine Dutch
family, snugly shut up in its low-roofed farmhouse, under a spread-
ing sycamore, he looked upon it as a little clasped volume of black-
letter, and studied it with the zeal of a book-worm.
The result of all these researches was a history of the province
during the reign of the Dutch governors, which he published some
years since. There have been various opinions as to the literary
character of his work, and, to tell the truth, it is not a whit better
than it should be. Its chief merit is its scrupulous accuracy,
which indeed was a little questioned on its first appearance, but
has since been completely established ; and it is now admitted
into all historical collections as a book of unquestionable
authority.
The old gentleman died shortly after the publication of his work ;
and now that he'is dead and gone, it cannot do much harm to his
memory to say that his time might have been much better
employed in weightier labors. He, however, was apt to ride his
io8 Greatest Short Stories
hobby his own way ; and though it did now and then kick up the
dust a little in the eyes of his neighbors, and grieve the spirit of
some friends, for whom he felt the truest deference and affection,
yet his errors and follies are remembered " more in sorrow than
in anger," and it begins to be suspected that he never intended to
injure or offend. But however his memory may be appreciated by
critics, it is still held dear by many folk whose good opinion is
well worth having; particularly by certain biscuit-bakers, who
have gone so far as to imprint his likeness on their New-Year
cakes ; and have thus given him a chance for immortality, almost
equal to the being stamped on a Waterloo Medal, or a Queen
Anne's Farthing.]
WHOEVER has made a voyage up the Hudson
must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They
are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian
family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling
up to a noble height, and lording it over the surround-
ing country. Every change of season, every change of
weather, indeed, every hour of the day, produces some
change in the magical hues and shapes of these moun-
tains, and they are regarded by all the good wives, far
and near, as perfect barometers. When the weather is
fair and settled, they are clothed in blue and purple,
and print their bold outlines on the clear evening sky ;
but sometimes, when the rest of the landscape is cloud-
less, they will gather a hood of gray vapors about their
summits, which, in the last rays of the setting sun, will
glow and light up like a crown of glory.
At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may
have descried the light smoke curling up from a village,
whose shingle-roofs gleam among the trees, just where
the blue tints of the upland melt away into the fresh
green of the nearer landscape. It is a little village, of
great antiquity, having been founded by some of the
Dutch colonists in the early times of the province, just
about the beginning of the government of the good Peter
Rip Van Winkle 109
Stuyvesant (may he rest in peace !), and there were
some of the houses of the original settlers standing
within a few years, built of small yellow bricks brought
from Holland, having latticed windows and gable fronts,
surmounted with weathercocks.
In that same village, and in one of these very houses
(which, to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn
and weather-beaten), there lived, many years since,
while the country was yet a province of Great Britain, a
simple, good-natured fellow, of the name of Rip Van
Winkle. He was a descendant of the Van Winkles who
figured so gallantly in the chivalrous days of Peter Stuy-
vesant, and accompanied him to the siege of Fort Chris-
tina. He inherited, however, but little of the martial
character of his ancestors. I have observed that he was
a simple, good-natured man ; he was, moreover, a kind
neighbor, and an obedient, hen-pecked husband. Indeed,
to the latter circumstance might be owing that meekness
of spirit which gained him such universal popularity ; for
those men are most apt to be obsequious and conciliat-
ing abroad, who are under the discipline of shrews at
home. Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered pliant
and malleable in the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation ;
and a curtain-lecture is worth all the sermons in the
world for teaching the virtues of patience and long-
suffering. A termagant wife may, therefore, in some
respects, be considered a tolerable blessing ; and if so,
Rip Van Winkle was thrice blessed.
Certain it is, that he was a great favorite among all
the good wives of the village, who, as usual with the
amiable sex, took his part in all family squabbles ; and
never failed, whenever they talked those matters over in
their evening gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame
Van Winkle. The children of the village, too, would
no Greatest Short Stories
shout with joy whenever he approached. He assisted
at their sports, made their playthings, taught them to fly
kites and shoot marbles, and told them long stories of
ghosts, witches, and Indians. Whenever he went dodg-
ing about the village, he was surrounded by a troop of
them, hanging on his skirts, clambering on his back, and
playing a thousand tricks on him with impunity ; and not
a dog would bark at him throughout the neighborhood.
The great error in Rip's composition was an insupera-
ble aversion to all kinds of profitable labor. It could
not be from the want of assiduity or perseverance ; for
he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and heavy
as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur,
even though he should not be encouraged by a single
nibble. He would carry a fowling-piece on his shoulder
for hours together, trudging through woods and swamps,
and up hill and down dale, to shoot a few squirrels or
wild pigeons. He would never refuse to assist a neighbor
even in the roughest toil, and was a foremost man at all
country frolics for husking Indian corn, or building stone
fences ; the women of the village, too, used to employ
him to run their errands, and do such little odd jobs as
their less obliging husbands would not do for them. In
a word, Rip was ready to attend to anybody's business
but his own ; but as to doing family duty, and keeping
his farm in order, he found it impossible.
In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his
farm ; it was the most pestilent little piece of ground
in the whole country; everything about it went wrong,
and would go wrong, in spite of him. His fences were
continually falling to pieces ; his cow would either go
astray, or get among the cabbages; weeds were sure
to grow quicker in his fields than anywhere else ; the
rain always made a point of setting in just as he had
Rip Van Winkle iii
some out- door work to do ; so that though his patrimonial
estate had dwindled away under his management, acre by
acre, until there was little more left than a mere patch of
Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was the worst conditioned
farm in the neighborhood.
His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they
belonged to nobody. His son Rip, an urchin begotten
in his own likeness, promised to inherit the habits, with
the old clothes, of his father. He was generally seen
trooping like a colt at his mother's heels, equipped in a
pair of his father's cast-of galligaskins, which he had
much ado to hold up with one hand, as a fine lady does
her train in bad weather.
Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy
mortals, of fooHsh, well-oiled dispositions, who take the
world easy, eat white bread or brown, whichever can be
got with least thought or trouble, and would rather starve
on a penny than work for a pound. If left to himself,
he would have whistled life away in perfect contentment ;
but his wife kept continually dinning in his ears about
his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he was bring-
ing on his family. Morning, noon, and night, her tongue
was incessantly going, and everything he said or did was
sure to produce a torrent of household eloquence. Rip
had but one way of replying to all lectures of the kind,
and that, by frequent use, had grown into a habit. He
shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, cast up his eyes,
but said nothing. This, however, always provoked a
fresh volley from his wife ; so that he was fain to draw off
his forces, and take to the outside of the house — the only
side which, in truth, belongs to a hen-pecked husband.
Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who
was as much hen-pecked as his master ; for Dame Van
Winkle regarded them as companions in idleness, and
112 Greatest Short Stories
even looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of
his master's going so often astray. True it is, in all
points of spirit befitting an honorable dog, he was as
courageous an animal as ever scoured the woods ; but
what courage can withstand the ever- during and all-be-
setting terrors of a woman's tongue ? The moment Wolf
entered the house his crest fell, his tail drooped to the
ground, or curled between his legs, he sneaked about
with a gallows air, casting many a sidelong glance at
Dame Van Winkle, and at the least flourish of a broom-
stick or ladle he would fly to the door with yelping pre-
cipitation.
Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as
years of matrimony rolled on ; a tart temper never
mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged
tool that grows keener with constant use. For a long
while he used to console himself, when driven from home,
by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the sages,
philosophers, and other idle personages of the village,
which held its sessions on a bench before a small inn,
designated by a rubicund portrait of His Majesty George
the Third. Here they used to sit in the shade through
a long, lazy summer's day, talking listlessly over village
gossip, or telling endless sleepy stories about nothing.
But it would have been worth any statesman's money
to have heard the profound discussions that sometimes
took place, when by chance an old newspaper fell into
their hands from some passing traveller. How solemnly
they would listen to the contents, as drawled out by
Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper learned
little man, who was not to be daunted by the most
gigantic word in the dictionary; and how sagely they
would deliberate upon public events some months after
they had taken place.
Rip Van Winkle 113
The opinions of this junto were completely controlled
by Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and land-
lord of the inn, at the door of which he took his seat
from morning till night, just moving sufficiently to avoid
the sun and keep in the shade of a large tree ; so that
the neighbors could tell the hour by his movements as
accurately as by a sun-dial. It is true he was rarely
heard to speak, but smoked his pipe incessantly. His
adherents, however (for every great man has his adher-
ents) , perfectly understood him, and knew how to gather
his opinions. When anything that was read or related
displeased him, he was observed to smoke his pipe vehe-
mently, and to send forth short, frequent, and angry
puffs; but when pleased, he would inhale the smoke
slowly and tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid
clouds ; and sometimes, taking the pipe from his mouth,
and letting the fragrant vapor curl about his nose, would
gravely nod his head in token of perfect approbation.
From even this stronghold the unlucky Rip was at
length routed by his termagant wife, who would suddenly
break in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage and call
the members all to naught ; nor was that august person-
age, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the daring
tongue of this terrible virago, who charged him outright
with encouraging her husband in habits of idleness.
Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair ; and
his only alternative, to escape from the labor of the farm
and clamor of his wife, was to take gun in hand and
stroll away into the woods. Here he would sometimes
seat himself at the foot of a tree, and share the contents
of his wallet with Wolf, with whom he sympathized as a
fellow- sufferer in persecution. '* Poor Wolf," he would
say, " thy mistress leads thee a dog's life of it ; but never
mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never want a friend
8
114 Greatest Short Stories
to stand by thee ! " Wolf would wag his tail, look wist-
fully in his master's face ; and if dogs can feel pity, I
verily believe he reciprocated the sentiment with all his
heart.
In a long ramble of the kind on a fine autumnal day,
Rip had unconsciously scrambled to one of the highest
parts of the Kaatskill mountains. He was after his fa-
vorite sport of squirrel-shooting, and the still solitudes
had echoed and re-echoed with the reports of his gun.
Panting and fatigued, he threw himself, late in the after-
noon, on a green knoll, covered with mountain herbage,
that crowned the brow of a precipice. From an opening
between the trees he could overlook all the lower coun-
try for many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a dis-
tance the lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on
its silent but majestic course, with the reflection of a
purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark, here and
there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing it-
self in the blue highlands.
On the other side he looked down into a deep moun-
tain glen, wild, lonely, and shagged, the bottom filled with
fragments from the impending cliffs, and scarcely lighted
by the reflected rays of the setting sun. For some time
Rip lay musing on this scene ; evening was gradually
advancing; the mountains began to throw their long
blue shadows over the valleys ; he saw that it would be
dark long before he could reach the village, and he
heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encountering
the terrors of Dame Van Winkle.
As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a dis-
tance, hallooing, " Rip Van Winkle ! Rip Van Winkle ! "
He looked round, but could see nothing but a crow wing-
ing its solitary flight across the mountain. He thought
his fancy must have deceived him, and turned again to
Rip Van Winkle 115
descend, when he heard the same cry ring through the
still evening air : " Rip Van Winkle ! Rip Van Winkle ! "
— at the same time Wolf bristled up his back, and giving
a low growl, skulked to his master's side, looking fearfully
down into the glen. Rip now felt a vague apprehension
stealing over him ; he looked anxiously in the same di-
rection, and perceived a strange figure slowly toiling up
the rocks, and bending under the weight of something
he carried on his back. He was surprised to see any
human being in this lonely and unfrequented place ; but
supposing it to be some one of the neighborhood in
need of his assistance, he hastened down to yield it.
On nearer approach he was still more surprised at the
singularity of the stranger's appearance. He was a
short, square-built old fellow, with thick bushy hair, and
a grizzled beard. His dress was of the antique Dutch
fashion, — a cloth jerkin strapped round the waist —
several pairs of breeches, the outer one of ample volume,
decorated with rows of buttons down the sides, and
bunches at the knees. He bore on his shoulder a stout
keg, that seemed full of liquor, and made signs for Rip
to approach and assist him with the load. Though
rather shy and distrustful of this new acquaintance, Rip
complied with his usual alacrity ; and mutually relieving
one another, they clambered up a narrow gully, appar-
ently the dry bed of a mountain torrent. As they as-
cended. Rip every now and then heard long, rolling
peals, like distant thunder, that seemed to issue out of
a deep ravine, or rather cleft, between lofty rocks, toward
which their rugged path conducted. • He paused for an
instant, but supposing it to be the muttering of one of
those transient thunder-showers which often take place
in mountain heights, he proceeded. Passing through the
ravine, they came to a hollow, like a small amphitheatre.
ii6 Greatest Short Stories
surrounded by perpendicular precipices, over the brinks
of which impending trees shot their branches, so thai
you only caught glimpses of the azure sky and the bright
evening cloud. During the whole time Rip and his com-
panion had labored on in silence ; for though the former
marvelled greatly what could be the object of carrying a
keg of liquor up this wild mountain, yet there was some-
thing strange and incomprehensible about the unknown,
that inspired awe and checked famiharity.
On entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder
presented themselves. On a level spot in the centre was
a company of odd-looking personages playing at ninepins.
They were dressed in a quaint, outlandish fashion ; some
wore short doublets, others jerkins, with long knives in
their belts, and most of them had enormous breeches of
similar style with that of the guide's. Their visages, too,
were peculiar : one had a large beard, broad face, and
small piggish eyes ; the face of another seemed to consist
entirely of nose, and was surmounted by a white sugar-
loaf hat, set off with a little red cock's tail. They all had
beards, of various shapes and colors. There was one who
seemed to be the commander. He was a stout old gen-
tleman, with a weather-beaten countenance ; he wore a
laced doublet, broad belt and hanger, high-crowned hat
and feather, red stockings, and high-heeled shoes, with
roses in them. The whole group reminded Rip of the
figures in an old Flemish painting, in the parlor of Dom-
inie Van Shaick, the village parson, and which had been
brought over from Holland at the time of the settlement.
What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that, though
these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they
maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence,
and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure
he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the stillness
Rip Van Winkle 117
of the scene but the noise of the balls, which, whenever
they were rolled, echoed along the mountains like rum-
bling peals of thunder.
As Rip and his companion approached them, they
suddenly desisted from their play, and stared at him
with such fixed, statue-like gaze, and such strange, un-
couth, lack-lustre countenances, that his heart turned
within him, and his knees smote together. His compan-
ion now emptied the contents of the keg into large flag-
ons, and made signs to him to wait upon the company.
He obeyed with fear and trembling; they quaffed the
liquor in profound silence, and then returned to their
game.
By degrees Rip's awe and apprehension subsided. He
even ventured, when no eye was fixed upon him, to taste
the beverage, which he found had much of the flavor of
excellent Hollands. He was naturally a thirsty soul, and
was soon tempted to repeat the draught. One taste pro-
voked another ; and he reiterated his visits to the flagon
so often that at length his senses were overpowered, his
eyes swam in his head, his head gradually declined, and
he fell into a deep sleep.
On waking, he found himself on the green knoll
whence he had first seen the old man of the glen. He
rubbed his eyes — it was a bright sunny morning. The
birds were hopping and twittering among the bushes, and
the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting the pure moun-
tain breeze. '* Surely," thought Rip, " I have not slept
here all night." He recalled the occurrences before he
fell asleep. The strange man with a keg of liquor — the
mountain ravine — the wild retreat among the rocks —
the woe-begone party at ninepins — the flagon — " Oh !
that flagon ! that wicked flagon ! " thought Rip, — ** what
excuse shall I make to Dame Van Winkle?"
ii8 Greatest Short Stories
He looked round for his gun, but in place of the
clean, well-oiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock
lying by him, the barrel incrusted with rust, the lock fall-
ing off, and the stock worm-eaten. He now suspected
that the grave roisters of the mountain had put a trick
upon him, and, having dosed him with liquor, had robbed
him of his gun. Wolf, too, had disappeared, but he
might have strayed away after a squirrel or partridge.
He whistled after him, and shouted his name, but all in
vain ; the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no
dog was to be seen.
He determined to revisit the scene of the last even-
ing's gambol, and if he met with any of the party, to
demand his dog and gun. As he rose to walk, he found
himself stiff in the joints, and wanting in his usual activity.
"These mountain beds do not agree with me," thought
Rip, " and if this frolic should lay me up with a fit of the
rheumatism, I shall have a blessed time with Dame Van
Winkle." With some difficulty he got down into the
glen : he found the gully up which he and his companion
had ascended the preceding evening ; but to his astonish-
ment a mountain stream was now foaming down it, leap-
ing from rock to rock, and filling the glen with babbling
murmurs. He, however, made shift to scramble up its
sides, working his toilsome way through thickets of birch,
sassafras, and witch-hazel, and sometimes tripped up or
entangled by the wild grape-vines that twisted their coils
or tendrils from tree to tree, and spread a kind of net-
work in his path.
At length he reached to where the ravine had opened
through the cliffs to the amphitheatre ; but no traces of
such opening remained. The rocks presented a high,
impenetrable wall, over which the torrent came tumbling
in a sheet of feathery foam, and fell into a broad, deep
Rip Van Winkle 119
basin, black from the shadows of the surrounding forest.
Here, then, poor Rip was brought to a stand. He again
called and whistled after his dog : he was only answered
by the cawing of a flock of idle crows, sporting high in
air about a dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice ;
and who, secure in their elevation, seemed to look down
and scoff at the poor man's perplexities. What was to
be done ? the morning was passing away, and Rip felt
famished for want of his breakfast. He grieved to give
up his dog and gun ; he dreaded to meet his wife ; but it
would not do to starve among the mountains. He shook
his head, shouldered the rusty firelock, and, with a heart
full of trouble and anxiety, turned his steps homeward.
As he approached the village he met a number of
people, but none whom he knew, which somewhat sur-
prised him, for he had thought himself acquainted with
every one in the country round. Their dress, too, was
of a different fashion from that to which he was accus-
tomed. They all stared at him with equal marks of
surprise, and whenever they cast their eyes upon him,
invariably stroked their chins. The constant recurrence
of this gesture induced Rip, involuntarily, to do the
same, when, to his astonishment, he found his beard had
grown a foot long !
He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop
of strange children ran at his heels, hooting after him,
and pointing at his gray beard. The dogs, too, not one
of which he recognized for an old acquaintance, barked
at him as he passed. The very village was altered ; it
was larger and more populous. There were rows of
houses which he had never seen before, and those which
had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange
names were over the doors — strange faces at the win-
dows — everything was strange. His mind now misgave
126 Greatest Short Stories.
him ; he began to doubt whether both he and the world
around him were not bewitched. Surely this was his
native village, which he had left but the day before.
There stood the Kaatskill mountains — there ran the
silver Hudson at a distance — there was every hill and
dale precisely as it had always been. Rip was sorely
perplexed. "That flagon last night," thought he, "has
addled my poor head sadly ! "
It was with some difficulty that he found the way to
his own house, which he approached with silent awe,
expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame
Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay — the
roof fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off
the hinges. A half-starved dog that looked like Wolf
was skulking about it. Rip called him by name, but the
cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. This was
an unkind cut indeed. " My very dog," sighed poor
Rip, " has forgotten me ! "
He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame
Van Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was
empty, forlorn, and apparently abandoned. This deso-
lateness overcame all his connubial fears — he called
loudly for his wife and children — the lonely chambers
rang for a moment with his voice, and then all again
was silence.
He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort,
the village inn — but it too was gone. A large rickety
wooden building stood in its place with great gaping
windows, some of them broken and mended with old
hats and petticoats, and over the door was painted,
"The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle." Instead of
the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch
inn of yore, there now was reared a tall naked pole, with
something on the top that looked like a red nightcap,
Rip Van Winkle 121
and from it was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular
assemblage of stars and stripes; — all this was strange
and incomprehensible. He recognized on the sign,
however, the ruby face of King George, under which he
had smoked so many a peaceful pipe ; but even this was
singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was changed
for one of blue and buff", a sword was held in the hand
instead of a sceptre, the head was decorated with a
cocked hat, and underneath was painted in large charac-
ters. General Washington.
There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door,
but none that Rip recollected. The very character of
the people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustl-
ing, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed
phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He looked in vain for
the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his broad face, double
chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco
smoke instead of idle speeches ; or Van Bummel, the
schoolmaster, doling forth the contents of an ancient
newspaper. In place of these, a lean, bilious-looking
fellow, with his pockets full of hand-bills, was haranguing
vehemently about rights of citizens — elections — mem-
bers of congress — liberty — Bunker's Hill — heroes of
seventy-six — and other words, which were a perfect
Babylonish jargon to the bewildered Van Winkle.
The appearance of Rip, with his long, grizzled beard,
his rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and an army
of women and children at his heels, soon attracted the
attention of the tavern-politicians. They crowded round
him, eying him from head to foot with great curiosity.
The orator bustled up to him, and, drawing him partly
aside, inquired " on which side he voted?" Rip stared
in vacant stupidity. Another short but busy httle fellow
pulled him by the arm, and, rising on tiptoe, inquired in
122 Greatest Short Stories
his ear, " Whether he was Federal or Democrat? " Rip
was equally at a loss to comprehend the question ; when
a knowing, self-important old gentleman, in a sharp
cocked hat, made his way through the crowd, putting
them to the right and left with his elbows as he passed,
and planting himself before Van Winkle, with one arm
akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes
and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very
soul, demanded in an austere tone, "What brought
him to the election with a gun on his shoulder, and
a mob at his heels ; and whether he meant to breed
a riot in the village? " — " Alas ! gentlemen," cried Rip,
somewhat dismayed, " I am a poor, quiet man, a native
of the place, and a loyal subject of the King, God
bless him ! "
Here a general shout burst from the by-standers — •
"A tory ! a tory ! a spy ! a refugee ! hustle him ! away
with him ! " It was with great difficulty that the self-
important man in the cocked hat restored order ; and,
having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded
again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for,
and whom he was seeking? The poor man humbly
assured him that he meant no harm, but merely camo
there in search of some of his neighbors, who used *;o
keep about the tavern.
" Well — who are they ? — name them."
Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired-
"Where's Nicholas Vedder?"
There was a silence for a little while, when an old
man replied, in a thin piping voice, " Nicholas Vedder !
why, he is dead and gone these eighteen years ! There
was a wooden tombstone in the churchyard that used
to tell all about him, but that 's rotten and gone too."
" Where 's Brom Butcher? "
Rip Van Winkle 123
** Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the
war ; some say he was killed at the storming of Stony
Point — others say he was drowned in a squall at the
foot of Antony's Nose. I don't know — he never came
back again."
" Where 's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster? "
" He went off to the wars too, was a great militia
general, and is now in Congress."
Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes
in his home and friends, and finding himself thus alone
in the world. Every answer puzzled him too, by treating
of such enormous lapses of time, and of matters which
he could not understand : war — congress — Stony Point ;
— he had no courage to ask after any more friends, but
cried out in despair, " Does nobody here know Rip Van
Winkle?"
" Oh, Rip Van Winkle ! " exclaimed two or three ;
" oh, to be sure ! that 's Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning
against the tree."
Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of him-
self as he went up the mountain; apparently as lazy,
and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now com-
pletely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and
whether he was himself or another pian. In the midst
of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat de-
manded who he was, and what was his name.
*'God knows," exclaimed he, at his wit's end; "I'm
not myself — I 'm somebody else — that 's me yonder —
no — that 's somebody else got into my shoes — I was
myself last night, but I fell asleep on the mountain, and
they 've changed my gun, and everything 's changed, and
I 'm changed, and I can't tell what 's my name, or who
I am ! "
The by-standers began now to look at each other, nod,
124 Greatest Short Stories
wink significantly, and tap their fingers against their fore-
heads. There was a whisper, also, about securing the
gun, and keeping the old fellow from doing mischief, at
the very suggestion of which the self-important man in
the cocked hat retired with some precipitation. At
this critical moment a fresh, comely woman pressed
through the throng to get a peep at the gray-bearded
man. She had a chubby child in her arms, which,
frightened at his looks, began to cry. " Hush, Rip,"
cried she, " hush, you little fool ; the old man won't hurt
you." The name of the child, the air of the mother,
the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollec-
tions in his mind. " What is your name, my good
woman ? " asked he.
" Judith Gardenier."
" And your father's name ? "
" Ah, poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name, but
it 's twenty years since he went away from home with his
gun, and never has been heard of since, — his dog came
home without him ; but whether he shot himself, or was
carried away by the Indians, nobody can tell. I was
then but a little girl."
Rip had but one question more to ask ; but he put it
with a faltering voice :
" Where 's your mother? "
" Oh, she too had died but a short time since ; ^she
broke a blood-vessel in a fit of passion at a New Eng-
land peddler."
There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelli-
gence. The honest man could contain himself no
longer. He caught his daughter and her child in his
arms. *' I am your father!" cried he — "Young Rip
Van Winkle once — old Rip Van Winkle now ! Does
nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle? "
Rip Van Winkle 125
All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out
from among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and
peering under it in his face for a moment, exclaimed,
" Sure enough ! it is Rip Van Winkle — it is himself !
Welcome home again, old neighbor ! Why, where have
you been these twenty long years? "
Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty years
had been to him but as one night. The neighbors
stared when they heard it ; some were seen to wink at
each other, and put their tongues in their cheeks : and
the self-important man in the cocked hat, who, when the
alarrti was over, had returned to the field, screwed down
the corners of his mouth, and shook his head — upon
which there was a general shaking of the head through-
out the assemblage.
It was determined, however, to take the opinion of
old Peter Vanderdonk, who was seen slowly advancing
up the road. He was a descendant of the historian of
that name, who wrote one of the earliest accounts of the
province. Peter was the most ancient inhabitant of the
village, and well versed in all the wonderful events and
traditions of the neighborhood. He recollected Rip at
once, and corroborated his story in the most satisfactory
manner. He assured the company that it was a fact,
handed down from his ancestor the historian, that the
Kaatskill mountains had always been haunted by strange
beings; that it was affirmed that the great Hendrick
Hudson, the first discoverer of the river and country,
kept a kind of vigil there every twenty years, with his
crew of the Half-moon, being permitted in this way to
revisit the scenes of his enterprise, and keep a guardian
eye upon the river and the great city called by his name ;
that his father had once seen them in their old Dutch
dresses playing at ninepins in a hollow of the mountain ;
126 Greatest Short Stories
and that he himself had heard, one summer afternoon,
the sound of their balls, like distant peals of thunder.
To make a long story short, the company broke up
and returned to the more important concerns of the
election. Rip's daughter took him home to live with
her ; she had a snug, well-furnished house, and a stout,
cheery farmer for a husband, whom Rip recollected for
one of the urchins that used to climb upon his back.
As to Rip's son and heir, who was the ditto of himself,
seen leaning against the tree, he was employed to work
on the farm; but evinced an hereditary disposition to
attend to anything else but his business.
Rip now resumed his old walks and habits ; he soon
found many of his former cronies, though all rather the
worse for the wear and tear of time ; and preferred mak-
ing friends among the rising generation, with whom he
soon grew into great favor.
Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived at
that happy age when a man can be idle with impunity,
he took his place once more on the bench at the inn-
door, and was reverenced as one of the patriarchs of the
village, and a chronicle of the old times "before the
war." It was some time before he could get into the
regular track of gossip, or could be made to comprehend
the strange events that had taken place during his tor-
por. How that there had been a revolutionary war, —
that the country had thrown off the yoke of old England
— and that, instead of being a subject of his Majesty
George the Third, he was now a free citizen of the
United States. Rip, in fact, was no politician ; the
changes of states and empires made but little impression
on him ; but there was one species of despotism under
which he had long groaned, and that was — petticoat
government. Happily that was at an end ; he had got
Rip Van Winkle 127
his neck out of the yoke of matrimony, and could go
in and out whenever he pleased, without dreading the
tyranny of Dame Van Winkle. Whenever her name
was mentioned, however, he shook his head, shrugged
his shoulders, and cast up his eyes ; which might pass
either for an expression of resignation to his fate, or joy
at his deliverance.
He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived
at Mr. Doolittle's hotel. He was observed, at first, to
vary on some points every time he told it, which was,
doubtless, owing to his having so recently awaked. It
at last settled down precisely to the tale I have related,
and not a man, woman, or child in the neighborhood but
knew it by heart. Some always pretended to doubt the
reality of it, and insisted that Rip had been out of his
head, and that this was one point on which he always
remained flighty. The old Dutch inhabitants, however,
almost universally gave it full credit. Even to this day
they never hear a thunder-storm of a summer afternoon
about the Kaatskill, but they say Hendrick Hudson and
his crew are at their game of ninepins ; and it is a com-
mon wish of all hen-pecked husbands in the neighbor-
hood, when life hangs heavy on their hands, that they
might have a quieting draught out of Rip Van Winkle's
flagon.
Note. — The foregoing Tale, one would suspect, had been sug-
gested to Mr. Knickerbocker by a little German superstition about
the Emperor Frederick der Kothbart, and the Kypphauser moun-
tain: the subjoined note, however, which he had appended to
the tale, shows that it is an absolute fact, narrated with his usual
fidelity.
" The story of Rip Van Winkle may seem incredible to many,
but nevertheless I give it my full belief, for I know the vicinity of
our old Dutch settlements to have been very subject to marvel-
lous events and appearances. Indeed, I have heard many stranger
128 Greatest Short Stories
stories than this, in the villages along the Hudson ; all of which
were too well authenticated to admit of a doubt. I have even
talked with Rip Van Winkle myself, who, when last I saw him,
was a very venerable old man, and so perfectly rational and con-
sistent on every other point, that I think no conscientious person
could refuse to take this into the bargain; nay, I have seen a
certificate on the subject taken before a country justice and signed
with a cross, in the justice's own handwriting. The story, there-
fore, is beyond the possibility of doubt.
"D. K."
Postscript. — The following are travelling notes from a memo-
randum-book of Mr. Knickerbocker.
The Kaatsberg, or Catskill Mountains, have always been a
region full of fable. The Indians considered them the abode of
spirits, who influenced the weather, spreading sunshine or clouds
over the landscape, and sending good or bad hunting-seasons.
They were ruled by an old squaw spirit, said to be their mother,
She dwelt on the highest peak of the Catskills, and had charge
of the doors of day and night to open and shut them at the proper
hour. She hung up the new moons in the skies, and cut up the
old ones into stars. In times of drought, if properly propitiated,
she would spin light summer clouds out of cobwebs and morning
dew, and send them off from the crest of the mountain, flake after
flake, like flakes of carded cotton, to float in the air ; until, dis-
solved by the heat of the sun, they would fall in gentle showers,
causing the grass to spring, the fruits to ripen, and the corn to
grow an inch an hour. If displeased, however, she would brew
up clouds black as ink, sitting in the midst of them like a bottle-
bellied spider in the midst of its web ; and when these clouds
broke, woe betide the valleys I
In old times, say the Indian traditions, there was a kind of
Manitou or Spirit, who kept about the wildest recesses^of the
Catskill Mountains, and took a mischievous pleasure in wreaking
all kinds of evils and vexations upon the red men. Sometimes
he would assume the form of a bear, a panther, or a deer, lead the
bewildered hunter a weary chase through tangled forests and
among ragged rocks; and then spring off with a loud ho! ho!
leaving him aghast on the brink of a beetling precipice or raging
torrent.
The favorite abode of this Manitou is still shown. It is a great
rock or cliff on the loneliest part of the mountains, and, from the
flowering vines which, clamber about it, and the wild flowers
Rip Van Winkle 129
which abound in its neighborhood, is known by the name of the
Garden Rock. Near the foot of it is a small lake, the haunt
of the solitary bittern, with water-snakes basking in the sun on
the leaves of the pond-lilies which lie on the surface.. This place
was held in great awe by the Indians, insomuch that the boldest
hunter would not pursue his game within its precincts. Once
upon a time, however, a hunter who had lost his way, penetrated
to the Garden Rock, where he beheld a number of gourds placed
in the crotches of trees. One of these he seized and made off
with it, but in the hurry of his retreat he let it fall among the
rocks, when a great stream gushed forth, which washed him away
and swept him down precipices, where he was dashed to pieces,
and the stream made its way to the Hudson, and continues to flow
to the present day ; being the identical stream known by the name
of the Kaaters-kill.
IV
A PASSION IN THE DESERT
A PASSION IN THE DESERT
By HONORE DE BALZAC
INTRODUCTORY
REALISM AND "ATMOSPHERE"
THE year 1830 marked an epoch in the his-
tory of fiction. Scott was dying, but the
influence of his stirring romances, with
their movement, their pageantry, and their march of
historic events, was appearing in France in the first
successes of Dumas and Victor Hugo. Romance
suddenly flowered into something too large, too
airy, too varied and magnificent for the short
story. Treated as Scott would have dealt with
it, the story of Aladdin would have filled a good
sized volume.
But side by side with the romantic movement
we find the realistic school quietly and slowly de-
veloping. In England, Jane Austen's books had
already appeared before " Waverley " was written ;
and in France, Balzac, greater than either Dumas or
Hugo, came into public notice simultaneously with
them, completing his best work before they were
fairly started. The realists adopted the short story
and perfected it, and the best of their work is little
134 Greatest Short Stories
more than a series of short stories, and often a novel
is a single short story developed and elaborated in
detail. A well-known English critic is of the opinion
that Thackeray was a short story writer gone wrong,
and that *' Vanity Fair " is in reality a short story
which should have ended with the first of the three
original volumes. The novels of Dickens make
no pretence at cohesion, and short stories are fre-
quently introduced. In these writers, description
reaches a tropical luxuriance equalled nowhere else,
and of course the minute study of character is the
element of chief interest and value.
" A Passion in the Desert " is remarkable for
two things. First, we find " atmosphere " in such
perfection that we fairly feel oppressed by the hot,
sultry air of the desert. And again, although there
is no woman in the story, nevertheless we find an
innocent and purified study of sexual passion and
feminine caprice and character (by reflection in
the tiger) which leaves the oftentimes bald vulgar-
ity of the "Decameron" far behind in its essen-
tial interest. Though Balzac, m common with all
French writers, goes much nearer the unveiled
freedom of Boccaccio in others of his stories, in
" A Passion in the Desert " we have what is to the
English mind the ideal presentation of extreme
passion. The passion of love between man and
woman exceeds all others in its interest to readers
of fiction, and is unsurpassed as a moving force in
the imaginary affairs of men ; but it must appear
A Passion in the Desert 135
in its refined and higher attributes, as the fire which
lights up all the nobler human faculties. .
A PASSION IN THE DESERT
[Translated by the Editor]
" TT makes me shudder," she cried as she emerged
X Yrom Monsieur Martin's menagerie. She had just
been looking at that daring showman " working " with
his hyena — to speak in the style of the handbills.
" By what means," she went on, " can he have tamed
these animals to the point of being quite certain of their
affection for — "
" What seems to you a problem," said I, interrupting
her, " is nevertheless perfectly natural."
'* Indeed ! " she cried, an incredulous smile playing
over her hps.
"Do you think, then, these wild beasts are entirely
devoid of passion?" I demanded. "Let me assure you,
we can communicate to them all the vices of modern
civilization."
She looked at me in astonishment.
" I admit," I went on, " that the first time I saw
Monsieur Martin, I, like you, was betrayed into an ex-
clamation of surpise. I found myself beside an old
soldier who had lost a leg. He had entered with me, and
his features had caught my eye. He had an intrepid
countenance, seamed with the lines of war and written all
oyer with the battles of Napoleon. Besides, he had an
air of frankness and good humor which impressed me
favorably. You could see by his looks that he was one
of those troopers who are surprised at nothing, who see
the humorous side even of the last agonies of a dying
136 Greatest Short Stories
comrade, who bury or plunder with equal cheerfulness,
and whose authoritative arguments are found in bullets :
in short, he was one of those men who waste no time in
deliberation, and would not hesitate to make friends
with the devil on a moment's notice.
" After watching the proprietor of the menagerie out
of his box, my companion looked about with an expres-
sion of contempt on his lips, — one of those mocking
smiles peculiar to the person of superior knowledge,
indicating that he is not among the dupes. When I
expatiated on the courage of Monsieur Martin, he
laughed, and, wagging his head in a knowing way, re-
marked, * Connu ! ' < Easy ! '
" ' How, easy ? ' I answered. ' If you can explain
this mystery I shall be infinitely obliged to you.'
" After chatting a few minutes we went to dine at the
nearest restaurant. At dessert a bottle of champagne
revived the memory of this queer old soldier in all its
clearness. He told me his story, and I realized that
he had every reason to exclaim, ' Connu / ' "
When we got home, she teased me so much that 1
consented to relate to her the soldier's confidence. The
next day she received this episode of an epic which we
might entitle " The French in Egypt."
During the expedition undertaken by General Desaix
into Upper Egypt, a Provencal soldier fell into the
hands of the Maugrabins and was carried away by these
Arabs into the desert beyond the cataracts of the Nile.
In order to place a safe distance between themselves
and the French army, the Maugrabins made a forced
march, resting only by night. They camped about a
well hidden by palm-trees, where they had previously
concealed provisions. Not suspecting that the idea o\
A Passion in the Desert 137
escape would enter the mind of their prisoner, they
merely tied his hands, and when they had eaten some
dates and fed their horses, they went to sleep. When
the courageous Frenchman saw that his enemies were
no longer in a condition to watch him, he managed to
use his teeth to get hold of a scimiter, and fixing the
blade between his knees, cut the cord which restrained
his hands, and in a moment found himself free. He
then seized a carbine and a poniard, took the precaution
of providing himself with some dry dates, a little sack of
barley, and powder and balls. He buckled the scimiter
about his waist, mounted a horse, and quickly spurred
away in the direction in which he thought the French
army must lie. So impatient was he to see the mess
tent once more, that he urged on his already tired
courser at such a speed that the poor animal, its flanks
lacerated by the spurs, soon breathed its last and left its
rider in the midst of the desert.
After walking on for some time in the sand with all
the courage of an escaped convict, the soldier was
obliged to stop, as the day was at an end. In spite of
the beauty of an Oriental night, he felt that he had not
the strength to continue his journey. He had been
fortunate enough to gain an eminence on the top of
which gre>v palms, whose foUage had been visible for a
long time and had filled his heart with gentle hopes.
His weariness was so great that he lay down on a
granite boulder, by chance hollowed out like a camp-
bed, and fell asleep without taking any precaution for
his safety during the night. He had made the sacrifice of
his life. His last thought was one of regret. He already
repented of having left the Maugrabins, whose wandering
life began to smile upon him, now that they were far
away and he was helpless.
138 Greatest Short Stories
He was awakened by the sun, whose pitiless rays,
beating straight down upon the granite rock, produced
^ an unbearable heat ; for this Frenchman had been
awkward enough to place himself on the opposite side
from the shade thrown by the verdant and majestic heads
of the palm-trees.
He looked at these trees with a start. They reminded
him of the graceful shafts crowned with long leaves which
distinguished the Saracen columns of the cathedral at
Aries. But when, after having counted the palms, he
cast his eyes on the surrounding plain, the most frightful
despair settled on his soul. He saw a Hmitless ocean.
The dark sands of the desert extended as far as the eye
could reach in every direction, and glittered like a steel
blade in bright sunlight. It appeared to him like a
sea of glass, or a succession of lakes united as a folding
mirror. Borne upward in great billows, a fiery
vapor seethed above the quivering earth. The sky had
an Oriental brilliance and a provoking purity, which no
power of imagination could surpass. The sky and earth
were on fire. The silence was awful in its savage and
terrible majesty. Infinite immensity in every direction
weighed down upon the soul : not a cloud in the sky,
not a breath in the air, not a speck, on the bosom of the
desert, heaving in almost invisible waves. The horizon
ended, as it does at sea on a clear day, in one line of
light as sharp as the cut of a sabre. The man hugged
the trunk of one of the palms as if it had been the body
of a friend ; then, in the shelter of the narrow shadow
which the tree threw upon the granite rock, he wept as
he sat immovable, contemplating with profound sadness
the relentless scene which presented itself to his eyes.
He cried out, to try the solitude. His voice, lost in the
hollows of the hill, returned a feeble sound far off with-
A Passion in the Desert 139
out wakening an answering echo : the echo was in his
own heart. The Frenchman was twenty-two years old.
He loaded his carbine : *' It will always be ready," he
said to himself as he placed on the ground the means of
his deliverance.
Looking now at the black expanse, now at the blue
expanse, the soldier dreamed of France. He smelt with
delight the gutters of Paris, he recalled the towns through
which he had passed, the faces of his comrades, and the
slightest circumstances of his life's history. Indeed, his
tropical imagination made him behold the stones of his
native Provence in the play of the heat which undulated
over the hmitless face of the desert.
Frightened at the danger which this cruel hallucination
portended, he went down the opposite side of the hill
from that he had come up the evening before. Great
was his joy on discovering a kind of grotto, naturally
shaped in the immense blocks of granite which formed
the base of the tiny mountain. The remains of a mat
announced that this retreat had once been inhabited.
A few steps farther on, he saw some trees loaded with
dates. Then the instinct which draws us to life re-
awakened in his heart. He hoped he might live long
enough to attract the notice of some passing Maugrabins,
or, perhaps, hear once more the roar of cannon ; for, at
this moment, Bonaparte was overrunning Egypt.
Roused by this thought, he knocked down some ripe
fruit to eat, for the date-trees seemed bending under the
weight of it, and in the taste of this unhoped-for manna
he found assurance that the inhabitant of the cave had
cultivated the trees. The fresh, savory meat argued the
care of his predecessor. The Frenchman suddenly passed
from the shadow of despair to an almost idiotic joy. He
remounted to the top of the hill, and occupied himself
140 Greatest Short Stories
the remainder of the day in cutting one of the sterile
pahns which the night before had served him for shelter.
A vague recollection made him think of the animals of the
desert ; and reflecting that they might come to drink at
the spring which could be seen at the base of the rocks,
but disappeared in the sands, he resolved to guard him-
self by placing a barrier at the entrance to his retreat.
In spite of his toil, in spite of the strength given by
the fear of being devoured in his sleep, he found it im-
possible to cut the palm into pieces that day; but he
succeeded in felling it. When, toward evening, this
king of the desert toppled over, the noise of its fall re-
sounded far and wide, and it was like a moan uttered by
the solitude. The soldier shuddered at it, as if he
heard a voice predicting misery. But like an heir who
does not long mourn the death of a parent, he despoiled
the beautiful tree of the broad green leaves which are its
poetic adornment, and made use of them to repair the
mat on which he was to sleep.
Worn out by the heat and the labor, he fell asleep
under the red roof of his damp cave.
In the middle of the night his sleep was disturbed by
an unusual noise. He sat up, and the deep silence which
reigned about him permitted him ta recognize the alter-
nating accents of a respiration whose savage energy could
belong to no human creature. A profound fear, increased
by the gloom, the silence, and the phantoms of imagina-
tion, froze his heart. He almost felt his hair stand on end
when, dilating the pupils of his eyes, he perceived in the
shadow two feeble yellow sparks. At first he attributed
these lights to some reflection of his own eyeballs ; but
soon, as the brilliancy of the night assisted him gradually
to distinguish the various objects within the cave, he per-
ceived an enormous animal lying only two steps away.
A Passion in the Desert 141
Was it a lion, a tiger, or a crocodile ? The Frenchman
was unable to tell under what species his enemy should
be classed, but his fright was all the greater because his
lack of knowledge made him imagine every misfortune
at once. He endured the cruel torture of listening, of
catching every variation in that respiration and missing
nothing, without daring to make the slightest movement.
An odor as strong as that exhaled by foxes, but more
penetrating, more serious, so to speak, filled the grotto ;
and when the Frenchman perceived this smell, his terror
became overwhelming, for he could no longer regard
with doubt the existence of a terrible companion, whose
royal den served as his place of bivouac. Soon the re-
flection of the moon as it neared the horizon illumined
the cave and by insensible degrees revealed the resplen-
dent spotted coat of a panther.
This hon of Egypt was sleeping, curled up like a great
dog, the peaceable possessor of a sumptuous corner at
the door of this hostelry ; its eyes opened for a moment,
then closed again. Its face was turned toward the French-
man. A thousand confused thoughts passed through the
mind of the panther's prisoner. At first he thought of
killing it with a shot from his gun, but he soon saw
there was not room enough to take aim, and that the
shot would fail to take effect. And if it should awake !
The supposition made him stiff with fear. Listening to
the beating of his own heart, clearly heard in the silence,
he cursed the too strong pulsations which the rush of
blood produced, fearing to disturb that sleep which al-
lowed him time to think of some expedient to preserve
his life. Twice he placed his hand on his scimiter with
the design of cutting off the head of his enemy, but the
difficulty of cutting through the stiff short hair obliged
him to renounce this daring project. To fail ? that would
142 Greatest Short Stories
surely mean death, thought he. He preferred the chances
of combat, and resolved to await the day.
And the day did not give him long to wait. The
Frenchman could now examine the panther: its muzzle
was smeared with blood. " She has had a good meal,"
he thought with no disquieting conjecture that she might
have been feasting on human flesh. " She will not be
hungry when she wakes up."
It was a female. The fur on the belly and thighs was
a brilliant white. Several marks that looked like velvet
formed pretty anklets. The muscular tail was also white,
but terminated in black rings. The upper part of the
coat, yellow as unburnished gold, but sleek and soft, bore
the characteristic tufts shaded off like roses, which serve
to distinguish panthers from other members of the feline
family. This tranquil and redoubtable hostess breathed
heavily as she lay in an attitude as graceful as that of a
cat on a rug by the fire. Her blood-stained paws, ner-
vous and well armed, extended in front of her head, which
rested upon them, and from which extended her thin,
straight whiskers, Uke threads of silver. If she had been
in a cage, forsooth, the Frenchman would certainly have
admired the grace of this beast, and the sharp contrasts
of living colors which gave to her coat an imperial splen-
dor ; but at this moment his vision was troubled by this
sinister apparition. The presence of the panther, even
asleep, could not fail of the effect said to be produced
by the magnetic eyes of the serpent on the nightingale.
The soldier's courage vanished for a moment before
this danger, though doubdess it would have risen al
the mouth of a cannon belching forth grape-shot. How-
ever, one bold thought made daylight in his heart and
sealed up the pores from which the cold sweat had
been oozing out on his forehead. Hardy as those men
A Passion in the Desert 143
who, driven to the last extremity, come to defy death
and offer themselves, to her fell blows, he resolved to
view this adventure merely as a tragic drama, and play
out his part with honor to the final scene.
"Day before yesterday, perhaps the Arabs would
have killed me," said he to himself. Considering him-
self as dead, he awaited bravely and with anxious curi-
osity the awakening of his enemy.
When the sun appeared, the panther suddenly opened
her eyes ; then she violently stretched out her paws as
if to get rid of the cramps ; at last she yawned, and
thereby displayed a frightful row of teeth and a slender
tongue, as rough as a rasp.
" A regular Httle mistress ! " thought the Frenchman,
as he watched her roll about in the most graceful and
coquettish movements. She Hcked off the blood which
smeared her paws and muzzle, and scratched her head
with repeated strokes full of prettiness. " Well ! making
a bit of a toilet ! " he said to himself, recovering his
spirits with the return of his courage. " We shall pres-
ently be wishing each other good morning." And he
seized the short little dagger which he had taken from
the Maugrabins.
At this moment the panther turned her head toward
the Frenchman and looked at him steadily without mov-
ing. The fixity of her metallic eyes and their insupport-
able brightness made the man shudder, especially when
the beast walked toward him ; but he watched her with
a caressing gaze, staring at her as if to hypnotize her,
and let her come quite near him. Then, by a movement
as gentle and as amorous as if he had been caressing
the prettiest woman in the world, he passed his hand
over her body from the head to the tail, scratching the
flexible vertebrae which marked the panther's yellow back.
144 Greatest Short Stories
The beast voluptuously straightened her tail, and her eyes
grew gentle. And when for the thijd time the French-
man accomplished this effective flattery, she began to
purr, as our cats do in expressing their pleasure ; but
this murmur proceeded from a throat so powerful and
deep, that it resounded through the cave like the bass
chords of a church organ.
The Frenchman, realizing the importance of these ca-
resses, redoubled them in a way to surprise, to stupefy
this imperious coquette. When he felt assured of having
extinguished the ferocity of his capricious companion,
whose hunger had so fortunately been satisfied the even-
ing before, he rose to go out of the cave. The panther
indeed let him pass ; but when he had ascended the hill,
she came bounding up with the lightness of a sparrow
hopping from branch to branch, and began rubbing her-
self against the soldier's legs, putting up her back like
all the race of cats. Then, regarding her guest with an
eye whose brilliancy had become somewhat less inflexi-
ble, she uttered that savage cry which naturalists compare
to the grating of a saw.
" She is exacting ! " cried the Frenchman with a smile.
He ventured to play with her ears, to caress her belly,
and vigorously to scratch her head with his finger-nails ;
and, perceiving his success, he tickled the top of her
head with the point of his dagger, watching for the pro-
pitious moment to kill her ; but the hardness of the bone
made him tremble lest he should not succeed.
The sultana of the desert indicated her acceptance of
the attentions of her slave by raising her head, stretching
her neck, displaying her infatuation by the tranquillity of
her demeanor. The Frenchman suddenly fancied that
to assassinate this savage princess at a single stroke, he
must stab her in the throat, and he raised the blade,
A Passion in the Desert 145
when the panther, doubtless surfeited, lay down at his
feet, from time to time casting up glances at him, in
which, in spite of their native fierceness, was mingled a
confused goodwill. The poor fellow ate some dates,
leaning against one of the palms, in turn casting a search-
ing eye on the desert to see if he might discern a libera-
tor, and on his terrible companion that he might watch
her uncertain clemency. The panther kept looking at
the place where the date stones fell, and each time he
threw one down, her eyes expressed a certain mistrust
and incredulity. She examined the Frenchman with the
prudence of a merchant ; but this examination was fa-
vorable to him, for when he had finished his meagre re-
past she licked his shoes, and, with a tongue rough and
strong, she removed in a marvellous manner the dust
that had hardened in the creases.
" But when she shall be hungry ! " thought the French-
man. In spite of the shudder which this thought caused
him, the soldier began from curiosity to measure the pro-
portions of the panther, certainly one of the most beau-
tiful individuals of the species, for she was three feet
high, and five feet long, without counting her tail. This
powerful member, shaped like a cudgel, was almost three
feet long. The head, almost as large as that of a lion,
was distinguished by an expression of rare craftiness;
the cold cruelty of the tiger dominated it, but there was
also a vague resemblance to the face of an artful woman.
The fact is, at this moment the face of this solitary queen
revealed a gayety not unlike that of a drunken Nero : she
had satiated herself with blood and she wished to play.
The soldier began to walk up and down ; the panther
left him free, contenting herself with following the move-
ments of her master with her. eyes, indeed resembling
less a faithful dog, than a great restless angora. When
146 Greatest Short Stories
he turned he saw by the spring the remains of his horse :
the panther had dragged the carcass all that distance.
About two thirds had been devoured. The sight gave
reassurance. It was now easy to explain the absence of
the panther, and why she had respected his slumbers.
This first piece of good fortune emboldened him to
tempt the future. He conceived the fond hope of living
comfortably with the panther during the entire day, of
course neglecting no means of taming her and conciliat-
ing her. He came back to her and had the unspeakable
happiness of seeing her wag her tail in an almost imper-
ceptible movement. He then sat down without fear
beside her, and the two began to play ; he fondled her
paws, her muzzle ; he pulled her ears ; he rolled her
over on her back, and vigorously scratched her warm, silky
flanks. She allowed him to do as he would, and when
he undertook to stroke the hair on her paws, she carefully
drew in her claws, which were curved like damsons. The
Frenchman, keeping his hand on his dagger, thought
even of plunging it into the belly of the too trustful pan-
ther ; but he feared being strangled in the last convulsion
which would seize her. And besides, he felt in his heart
a sort of compunction which cried out to him to respect
an inoffensive creature. He seemed to have found a
friend in this limitless desert. Involuntarily he called up
the memory of his first mistress, whom he had named
Mignonne, by opposition of phrase, because she was so
insanely jealous that, during the entire time their passion
lasted, he was in fear of the knife with which she con-
tinually threatened him. This memory of his youth
suggested the idea of teaching this young panther to
answer to the name, now that he strangely enough began
to regard with less terror her agility, grace, and supple-
ness.
A Passion in the Desert 147
Toward the end of the day he had become accustomed
to his perilous situation, and he almost enjoyed the pain-
fulness of it. Indeed, his companion had come habitu-
ally to look at him when he cried out in a falsetto voice,
"Mignonne!" At sunset Mignonne uttered several
times a deep and melancholy cry.
'* She has been well brought up ! " thought the gay-
hearted soldier ; " she says her prayers." But this
mental pleasantry came into his mind only after he had
remarked the quiet demeanor which his companion con-
tinued to preserve. " Come, my pretty blonde, I will let
you go to bed first," said he, counting on the activity of
his own legs to escape as quickly as possible when she
should be asleep, and find out another lodging during
the night.
The soldier awaited with impatience the hour of his
flight, and when it arrived he ran swiftly in the direction
of the Nile ; but hardly had he made a quarter of a
league in the sand when he heard the panther bounding
after him, and uttering at intervals that rasping cry, more
frightening even than the sound of her leaping.
" Hello ! " said he, " she has taken me into her affec-
tions. Perhaps this young panther has never before met
any one. It is flattering to have her first love." At
that moment the man fell into one of those quicksands
so ' dreaded by travellers, since it is impossible to es-
cape from them. Feeling that he was fast, he gave forth
a cry of alarm. The panther seized him by the collar
with her teeth, and leaping backward with vigor, she
dragged him from the abyss as by magic.
" Ah, Mignonne ! " cried the soldier, caressing her
with warmth, " it is now for life and for death between
us. But no tricks ! " And he retraced his steps.
Thenceforth the desert seemed inhabited. It con-
148 Greatest Short Stories
tained a being to whom the man could talk, whose
ferocity had been softened for him, though he was un-
able to explain the reasons for this remarkable friend-
ship. Powerful as was the soldier's desire to remain
on his guard, he fell asleep. On awaking he could
see Mignonne nowhere. He mounted the hill, and in
the distance he discerned her bounding along, as is
the habit of these animals, since running is prevented
by the extreme flexibility of the spinal column.
Mignonne arrived, her lips covered with blood. She
received the inevitable caresses that her companion gave
her, testifying by much deep purring how happy it
made her. Her eyes, filled with languor, turned on the
Frenchman even more gently than the night before,
and he spoke to her as to a domestic animal.
" Ah ! ah ! mademoiselle ! why, you 're a fine girl,
are n't you ? Just see ! We like to be flattered, don't
we ! Are n't you ashamed of yourself ? Have you
eaten a Maugrabin ? Oh, well ! they are no better than
animals like you. But don't go to eating Frenchmen, or
I shan't like you any more ! "
She played as a young dog plays with his master,
letting herself be rolled over, slapped, and caressed by
turns; and sometimes she would tempt the soldier,
thrusting out her paw to him with a gesture of solici-
tation.
Some days passed in this manner. This compan-
ionship allowed the Frenchman to admire the subUme
beauties of the desert. Now that he had found periods
of fear and of tranquillity, food, and a creature to
occupy his thoughts, life began to have variety for
him. It was an existence full of contrasts. The soli-
tude revealed to him all her secrets, and enveloped
him with her charms. In the rising and the setting
A Passion in the Desert 149
of the sun he found spectacles unknown to the civilized
world. He knew what it was to tremble when he
heard over his head the soft whirr of the wings of a
bird — rare visitor, — or when he saw the clouds, those
changing and many colored travellers, melting into one
another. At night he studied the effect of the moon
on the ocean of sand, in which the simoom produced
quickly changing billows and undulations. He lived
the life of the Orient, wondering at its marvellous
pomps; and often, after having enjoyed the terrible
spectacle of a hurricane on this plain, where the sands
were lifted up and formed red, dry mists, death-
bearing clouds, he watched with joy for the coming
of night, for then a healing refreshment fell from the
stars, to whose imaginary music he would listen. Then
solitude taught him to unroll the treasures of dreams.
He spent whole hours in the recollection of nothings,
comparing his past life with his present. At last he
conceived a passion for the panther; for it was ab-
solutely necessary that he have some object of affec-
tion. Whether his will, powerfully projected, had
modified the character of his companion, or she found
abundant nourishment, thanks to the fighting then
going on in the desert, she respected the life of the
P'renchman, and he ended by abandoning his mistrust,
so thoroughly tamed did she appear. He spent the
greater part of his time in sleep, but he was obliged
to watch, like a spider in the heart of her web, that
the moment of his deliverance might not escape him,
when some one should pass across the circle marked
by the horizon. He had given up his shirt to make
a flag, which he hoisted at the top of a palm branch
stripped of its leaves. Taught by necessity, he found
out how to keep it spread out by stretching it on
150 Greatest Short Stories
little twigs, since the wind might not make it wave at
the moment when some passing traveller in the desert
was looking in that direction.
It was during the long hours in which hope abandoned
him that he amused himself with the panther. He had
come to know the varying inflections of her voice, and
the expression of her eyes ; he had studied every spot
in the markings and shadings of her golden coat. Mi-
gnonne did not even snarl when he took hold of the tuft
on her redoubtable tail, to count the black and white rings,
those graceful ornaments which shone in the sunlight
like jewels. He took pleasure in contemplating the deli-
cate and fine lines of her contour, the whiteness of her
belly, the grace of her head ; but especially did he take
delight in watching her at play, and he constantly won-
dered at her suppleness and youthfulness of movement ;
he could not but admire the graceful way in which she
would leap, creep, sUp, insinuate herself, seize upon
anything, roll over, crouch down, and then spring away.
However rapid her leap, or slippery the rock under her
feet, she would stop in an instant at the word " Mi-
gnonne."
One day, when the sun was shining brightly, an im-
mense bird cut through the air. The Frenchman left
his panther, to examine this new visitor; but after a
moment's waiting, the deserted sultana gave a harsh
growl.
" My God, I believe she is jealous ! " he cried, as he
saw her eyes becoming hard again. " The soul of Vir-
ginia has passed into her body ; that is quite evident. "
The eagle disappeared in the upper air while the sol-
dier admired the rounded back of the panther. Ah, there
was such grace and youthful beauty in her contour ! She
was as pretty as a woman. The Hght fur of her coat
A Passion in the Desert 151
harmonized perfectly with the fine tones of dull white
which marked her flanks. The brilliant light of the sun
made this living gold fairly to blaze round the dusky
spots, lending an indefinable fascination. The French-
man and the panther looked at each other with an air of
perfect understanding. The coquette quivered when she
felt the nails of her friend scratching her head, her eyes
shone like two flashes of lightning, and then she shut
them tightly.
"She has a soul," he said, as he studied the tranquil-
lity of this queen of the sands, golden like them, white
like them, solitary and burning like them.
** Well ! " said she to me, " I have read your plea in
favor of beasts ; but how did it end with these two
persons so well suited to comprehend each other?"
" Ah, you see, it ended for them, as in the case of all
grand passions, with a misunderstanding. One suspects
the other of treason ; there is no explanation, because of
pride ; and they fall out through stubbornness."
"And sometimes, at a happy moment," said she, "a
look, an exclamation is sufficient. But — come, finish
the story."
" It is horribly difficult ; but after what the old villain
had already confided to me, you will understand, when
he exclaimed, as he finished his bottle of champagne :
* I do not know what injury I had done her, but she
turned as if enraged, and with her sharp teeth seized me
by the leg, certainly with no great violence. But I,
thinking she was about to devour me, plunged my dagger
into her neck. She rolled over, uttering a cry which
froze my heart. I saw her struggling, still watching me
152 Greatest Short Stories
but without anger. I would have given the world, my
cross (which I had not then received), to bring her back
to life. It was as if I had assassinated a real person.
And the soldiers, who had seen my signal and had
hastened to my rescue, found me in tears.
" ' Ah, well, monsieur,' he went on after a moment of
silence, * I have been a campaigner in Germany, in Spain,
in Russia, in France ; I have marched this carcass of
mine about a good deal, but I have never seen anything
to resemble the desert. Ah, yes ! it is very beautiful.'
" * How did it affect you ? ' I inquired.
" * Oh ! that is impossible to describe, young man.
Besides, I am not always regretting my bunch of palms
and my panther. I should be forever melancholy if I
did that. In the desert, you see, there is everything,
and there is nothing.'
" ' But can't you explain ? '
" * Well,' he replied, a gesture of impatience escaping
him, * it is God without man,' ''
V
A CHILD'S DREAM OF A STAR
A CHILD'S DREAM OF A STAR
By CHARLES DICKENS
INTRODUCTORY
PATHETIC SENTIMENT
IN " Rip Van Winkle ** we find the beginning
of humor, — not the serious humor of a
sea of sentiment, which rises alternately in
crested waves of pure fun, only to sink the next
instant into the depths of pathos, but the whim-
sical lightness of the essayist. In Dickens we find
the humor of sentiment closely united with its
counterpart, the pathetic. Sentiment is in Dick-
ens a peculiar enveloping atmosphere of tender-
ness, — a mild and moist air quite different from
the heated breath of passion. As a source of
popularity, it is to English fiction what passion
is to the French. It is a soothing opiate, mildly
stimulating, and infinitely restful, and to the mul-
titude it often excuses an endless catalogue of
sins. We may almost say that no artist can be
permanently popular without it, — certainly no
artist of the strictly realistic school; and even
romance ceases to hold the throng of its admir-
156 Greatest Short Stories
ers, long before sentiment yields an iota of its
popularity.
The master of sentiment is Dickens, and in no
other writer can it be studied so effectively. In
him we may find all kinds of sentiment, corres-
ponding with the variety of life which he repre-
sents. Curiously enough pathetic sentiment seems
to be better adapted to the short story than hum-
orous sentiment. Perhaps this is because humor
cannot be concentrated in a short space so easily
as pathos can. In the short story intensity takes
the place of variety, and the shorter the story the
more intense it must be made in order to secure
the reader's interest.
Until fiction appropriated it, sentiment, both
pathetic and humorous, was the peculiar posses-
sion of the ballad and the song. It cannot be
expressed in simple narrative prose, such as we
found in '' Patient Griselda " and " Aladdin," but
requires a special structure which shall utilize
some of the characteristics of verse, but in a free
and untramnielled way. Verse ^is mechanical and
fixed, while prose is perfectly pliant and adapt-
able. Modern writers have found means to pro-
duce all the effects of poetry in prose, and have
even proved that in its possibilities of expression
prose is vastly superior to verse. The effective-
ness of the artist's personal skill is correspond-
ingly greater with the increase of his opportunities
and the removal from mechanical forms. In ** A
A Child's Dream of a Star 157
Child's Dream of a Star " we find some of the de*
vices of the prose poet, such as the chorus-like
repetition, and the balanced and cumulative struc-
tures. But in the musical element Dickens was
lacking.
A CHILD'S DREAM OF A STAR
THERE was once a child, and he strolled about a
good deal, and thought of a number of things. He
had a sister, who was a child too, and his constant com-
panion. These two used to wonder all day long. They
wondered at the beauty of the flowers ; they wondered
at the height and blueness of the sky ; they wondered at
the depth of the bright water; they wondered at the
goodness and the power of God who made the lovely
world.
They used to say to one another, sometimes, Sup-
posing all the children upon earth were to die, would
the flowers, and the water, and the sky be sorry?
They believed they would be sorry. P'or, said they,
the buds are the children of the flowers, and the little
playful streams that gambol down the hillsides are the
children of the water; and the smallest bright specks
playing at hide-and-seek in the sky all night, must
surely be the children of the stars ; and they would all
be grieved to see their playmates, the children of men,
no more.
There was one clear shining star that used to come
out in the sky before the rest, near the church-spire,
above the graves. It was larger and more beautiful,
they thought, than all the others, and every night they
watched for it, standing hand in hand at the window.
158 Greatest Short Stories
Whoever saw it first, cried out, " I see the star ! " And
often they cried out both together, knowing so well
when it would rise, and where. So they grew to be such
friends with it, that before lying down in their beds,
they always looked out once again, to bid it good night ;
and when they were turning round to sleep, they used to
say, *' God bless the star ! "
But while she was still very young, O, very, very
young, the sister drooped, and came to be so weak that
she could no longer stand in the window at night ; and
then the child looked sadly out by himself, and when he
saw the star, turned round and said to the patient pale
face on the bed, " I see the star ! " and then a smile
would come upon the face, and a little weak voice used
to say, " God bless my brother and the star ! '*
And so the time came, all too soon ! when the child
looked out alone, and when there was no face on the
bed; and when there was a little grave among the
graves, not there before ; and when the star made long
rays down towards him, as he saw it through his
tears.
Now, these rays were so bright, and they seemed to
make such a shining way from earth to heaven, that
when the child went to his solitary.bed, he dreamed
about the star ; and dreamed that, lying where he was,
he saw a train of people taken up that sparkling road
by angels. And the star, opening, showed him a great
world of light, where many more such angels waited to
receive them.
All these angels who were waiting turned their beam-
ing eyes upon the people who were carried up into the
star ; and some came out from the long rows in which
they stood, and fell upon the people's necks, and kissed
them tenderly, and went away with them down avenues
A Child's Dream of a Star 159
of light, and were so happy in their company, that lying
in his bed he wept for joy.
But there were many angels who did not go with
them, and among them one he knew. The patient face
that once had lain upon the bed was glorified and radi-
ant, but his heart found out his sister among all the host.
His sister's angel lingered near the entrance of the
star, and said to the leader among those who had
brought the people thither, —
" Is my brother come ? "
And he said, " No."
She was turning hopefully away, when the child
stretched out his arms, and cried, *' O sister, I am
here! Take me!" And then she turned her beaming
eyes upon him and it was night ; and the star was
shining into the room, making long rays down towards
him as he saw it through his tears.
From that hour forth the child looked out upon the
star as on the home he was to go to, when his time
should come ; and he thought that he did not belong
to the earth alone, but to the star too, because of
his sister's angel gone before.
There was a baby born to be a brother to the child ;
and while he was so little that he never yet had spoken
word, he stretched his tiny form out on his bed and
died.
Again the child dreamed of the opened star, and of
the company of angels, and the train of people, and the
rows of angels with their beaming eyes all turned upon
those people's faces.
Said his sister's angel to the leader.
" Is my brother come ? "
And he said, " Not that one, but another."
As the child beheld his brother's angel in her arms,
i6o Greatest Short Stories
he cried, " O sister, I am here ! Take me ! " And she
turned and smiled upon him, and the star was shining.
He grew to be a young man, and was busy at his
books when an old servant came to him and said, —
"Thy mother is no more. I bring her blessing on
her darling son ! "
Again at night he saw the star, and all that former
company. Said his sister's angel to the leader, —
" Is my brother come? "
And he said, " Thy mother ! "
A mighty cry of joy went forth through all the star,
because the mother was reunited to her two children.
And he stretched out his arms and cried, " O mother,
sister, and brother, I am here ! Take me ! " And they
answered him, *' Not yet." And the star was shining.
He grew to be a man whose hair was turning gray,
and he was sitting in his chair by the fireside, heavy
with grief, and with his face bedewed with tears, when
the star opened once again.
Said his sister's angel to the leader, " Is my brother
come? "
And he said, " Nay, but his maiden daughter."
And the man who had been the child saw his daugh-
ter, newly lost to him, a celestial cre^iture among those
three, and he said, " My daughter's head is on my sister's
bosom, and her arm is round my mother's neck, and at
her feet there is the baby of old time, and I can bear the
parting from her, God be praised ! "
And the star was shining.
Thus the child came to be an old man, and his once
smooth face was wrinkled, and his steps were slow and
feeble, and his back was bent. And one night as he
lay upon his bed, his children standing round, he cried,
as he had cried so long ago, -^
A Child's Dream of a Star i6i
" I see the star ! "
They whispered one 'another, *' He is dying."
And he said, *' I am. My age is falling from me like
a garment, and I move towards the star as a child. And
O my Father, now I thank thee that it has so often
opened to receive those dear ones who await me I "
And the star was shining; and it shines upon his
grave.
II
VI
A CHRISTMAS CAROL
A CHRISTMAS CAROL
By CHARLES DICKENS
INTRODUCTORY
HUMOROUS SENTIMENT
IF the intensity of pathetic sentiment requires
condensation, as we found in the case of
** A Child's Dream of a Star," humorous
sentiment requires expansion. In ** A Christmas
Carol " Dickens fairly floats on a sea of sentiment
— humorous sentiment, good-humored sentiment.
The Christmas season is a time of expansion.
As the waistband enlarges the heart fills up,
till it bubbles over like a glass of good ale.
The language in this Christmas story is a series
of expanding flowers, each idea being a centre,
with words and phrases growing out in every
direction, like petal laid on petal. Each scene
is a perfect nosegay of scented blossoms ; and
to make the miracle more striking, Dickens
brings all these blossoms out of a dried-up and
half-dead old stalk, the miser Scrooge.
1 66 Greatest Short Stories
In no story that he ever wrote was Dickens more
at home than in this, and in no story has he suc-
ceeded better in pouring out the full wealth of his
sentimental nature. Harsh critics sometimes say
that he quite bubbled over, and that sentiment,
like butter, should not be thickier than the bread it
covers. The story was originally written in fifty
thousand words, and in that form attained its
popularity. When he began his series of public
readings in America, the author was called upon
to give the " Carol," and to bring it within the
limits of an evening's entertainment he was
obliged to condense it to a quarter of its original
length. In so doing he made a far better story
of it, and it is in this rewritten form that we here
present it.
Sentiment is without doubt the secret of wide
popularity. If one would wish to know what a
popular story is, let him study this little fantastic
Christmas tale, for no more popular short story
was ever written. We have compared Dickens's
style to the song and the ballad. The higher
poetic elements are lacking. ** A Christmas
Carol" is by no means highly artistic work.
We must look elsewhere for the more refined
and intellectual phases of prose poetry — in
Hawthorne, for instance. But it is doubtful if
ever a song or ballad, even when sung with all
the appeal of a sympathetic human voice, ever
touched the heart of the people so widely and
A Christmas Carol 167
so permanently as this "Carol," the very name
of which indicates its literary affinities.
A CHRISTMAS CAROL
STAVE ONE
marley's ghost
MARLEY was dead, to begin with. There is no
doubt whatever about that. The register of
his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the
undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it.
And Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change for any-
thing he chose to put his hand to.
Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Scrooge knew he was dead ? Of course he did. How
could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners
for I don't know how many years. Scrooge was his sole
executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole
residuary legatee, his sole friend, his sole mourner.
Scrooge never painted out old Marley's name, how-
ever. There it yet stood, years afterwards, above the
warehouse door, — Scrooge and Marley. The firm was
known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new
to the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes
Marley. He answered to both names. It was all the
same to him.
Oh ! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone,
was Scrooge ! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scrap-
ing, clutching, covetous old sinner ! External heat and
cold had little influence on him. No warmth could
warm, no cold could chill him. No wind that blew was
bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon
1 68 Greatest Short Stories
its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul
weather did n't know where to have him. The heaviest
rain and snow and hail and sleet could boast of the
advantage over .him in only one respect, — they often
" came down " handsomely, and Scrooge never did.
Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with
gladsome looks, •* My dear Scrooge, how are you ?
When will you come to see me? " No beggars implored
him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it
was o'clock, no man or woman ever once in all his life
inquired the way to such and such a place, of Scrooge.
Even the blind men's dogs appeared to know him ; and
when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners
into doorways and up courts ; and then would wag their
tails as though they said, *' No eye at all is better than
an evil eye, dark master ! "
But what did Scrooge care ! It was the very thing he
liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life,
warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was
what the knowing ones call " nuts " to Scrooge.
Once upon a time — of all the good days in the year,
upon a Christmas eve — old Scrooge sat busy in his
counting-house. It was cold, bleak, biting, foggy
weather ; and the city clocks had only just gone three,
but it was quite dark already.
The door of Scrooge's counting-house was open, that
he might keep his eye upon his clerk, who, in a dismal
little cell beyond, a sort of tank, was copying letters.
Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was so
very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he
could n't replenish it, for Scrooge kept the coal-box in
his own room ; and so surely as the clerk came in with
the shovel the master predicted that it would be neces-
sary for them to part. Wherefore the clerk put on his
A Christmas Carol 169
white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle ;
in which effort, not being a man of a strong imagination,
he failed.
" A merry Christmas, uncle ! God save you ! " cried
a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Scrooge's nephew,
who came upon him so quickly that this was the first in-
timation Scrooge had of his approach.
« Bah ! " said Scrooge ; " humbug ! "
" Christmas a humbug, uncle ! You don't mean that,
I am sure?"
" I do. Out upon merry Christmas ! What 's Christ-
mas time to you but a time for paying bills without
money; a time for finding yourself a year older, and
not an hour richer ; a time for balancing your books and
having every item in 'em through a round dozen of
months presented dead against you ? If I had my will,
every idiot who goes about with * Merry Christmas ' on
his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and
buried with a stake of holly through his heart ! He
should ! "
" Uncle ! "
" Nephew, keep Christmas in your own way, and let
me keep it in mine."
" Keep it ! But you don't keep it."
" Let me leave it alone, then. Much good may it do
you ! Much good it has ever done you ! "
" There are many things from which I might have
derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say,
Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always
thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, —
apart from the veneration due to its sacred origin, if
anything belonging to it can be apart from that, — as a
good time ; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time ;
the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the
170 Greatest Short Stories
year, when men and women seem by one consent to
open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people
below them as if they really were fellow-travellers to the
grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other
journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put
a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it
has done me good, and will do me good ; and I say,
God bless it ! "
The clerk in the tank involuntarily applauded.
*' Let me hear another sound from you^^ said Scrooge,
" and you Ml keep your Christmas by losing your situa-
tion ! — You 're quite a powerful speaker, sir,'* he added,
turning to his nephew. " I wonder you don't go into
Parliament.'*
" Don't be angry, uncle. Come 1 Dine with us, to-
morrow."
Scrooge said that he would see him — yes, indeed he
did. He went the whole length of the expression, and
said that he would see him in that extremity first.
" But why ? " cried Scrooge's nephew. '* Why? "
" Why did you get married ? '*
<* Because I fell in love."
" Because you fell in love ! " growled Scrooge, as if
that were the only one thing in the world more ridiculous
than a merry Christmas. " Good afternoon 1 '*
" Nay, uncle, but you never came to see me before
that happened. Why give it as a reason for not coming
now ? "
" Good afternoon."
" I want nothing from you ; I ask nothing of you ;
why cannot we be friends?"
" Good afternoon."
" I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute.
We have never had any quarrel, to which 1 have been
A Christmas Carol 171
a party. But I have made the trial in homage to Christ-
mas, and I '11 keep my Christmas humor to the last.
So, A Merry Christmas, uncle ! "
" Good afternoon ! "
" And A Happy New Year ! "
" Good afternoon ! "
His nephew left the room without an angry word, not-
withstanding. The clerk, in letting Scrooge's nephew
out, had let two other people in. They were portly gentle-
men, pleasant to behold, and now stood, with their hats
off, in Scrooge's office. They had books and papers in
their hands, and bowed to him.
"Scrooge and Marley's, I believe," said one of the
gentlemen, referring to his list. " Have I the pleasure
of addressing Mr. Scrooge, or Mr. Marley ? '*
" Mr. Marley has been dead these seven years. He
died seven years ago, this very night."
"At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge,"
said the gentleman, taking up a pen, " it is more than
usually desirable that we should make some slight pro-
vision for the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at
the present time. Many thousands are in want of com-
mon necessaries ; hundreds of thousands are in want of
common comforts, sir."
" Are there no prisons ? "
" Plenty of prisons. But under the impression that
they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of riiind or body to
the unoffending multitude, a few of us are endeavoring to
raisi,e a fund to buy the poor some meat and drink, and
means of warmth. We choose this time, because it is 3
time of all others when Want is keenly felt and Abun-
dance rejoices. What shall I put you down for? "
" Nothing ! "
"You wish to be anonymous?"
172 Greatest Short Stories
" I wish to be left alone. Since you ask me what 1
wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don't make merry
myself at Christmas, and I can't afford to make idle
people merry. I help to support the prisons and the
workhouses, — they cost enough, — and those who are
badly off must go there."
"Many can't go there; and many would rather
die."
'/ If they would rather die, they had better do it, and
decrease the surplus population."
At length the hour of shutting up the counting-house
arrived. With an ill-will Scrooge, dismounting from his
stool, tacitly admitted the fact to the expectant clerk in
the Tank, who instantly snuffed his candle out, and put
on his hat.
" You '11 want all day to-morrow, I suppose ? "
" If quite convenient, sir."
" It 's not convenient, and it *s not fair. If I wag to
stop half a crown for it, you'd think yourself mightily ill-
used, I '11 be bound?"
"Yes, sir."
"And yet you don't think nu ill-used, when I pay a
day's wages for no work."
" It 's only once a year, sir."
"A poor excuse for picking a man*s pocket every
twenty-fifth of December ! But I suppose you must
have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next
morning."
The clerk promised that he would ; and Scrooge
walked out with a growl. The office was closed in a
twinkling, and the clerk, with the long ends of his white
comforter dangling below his waist (for he boasted no
great-coat) , went down a slide, at the end of a lane of
boys, twenty times, in honor of its being Christmas eve,
A Christmas Carol 173
and then ran home as hard as he could pelt, to play at
blind-man's-buff.
Scrooge took his meTancholy dinner in his usual melan-
choly tavern ; and having read all the newspapers, and
beguiled the rest of the evening with his banker's book,
went home to bed. He lived in chambers which had
once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a
gloomy suite of rooms, in a lowering pile of building up
a yard. The building was old enough now, and dreary
enough ; for nobody lived in it but Scrooge, the other
rooms being all let out as offices.
Now it is a fact, that there was nothing at all particu-
lar about the knocker on the door of this house, except
that it was very large ; also, that Scrooge had seen it,
night and morning, during his whole residence in that
place ; also, that Scrooge had as little of what is called
fancy about him as any man in the city of London.
And yet Scrooge, having his key in the lock of the door,
saw in the knocker, without its undergoing any interme-
diate process of change, not a knocker, but Marley's
face.
Marley's face, with a dismal light about it, like a bad
lobster in a dark cellar. It was not angry or ferocious,
but it looked at Scrooge as Marley used to look, —
with ghostly spectacles turned up upon its ghostly fore-
head.
As Scrooge looked fixedly at this phenomenon, it was
a knocker again. He said, *' Pooh, pooh ! *' and closed
the door with a bang.
The sound resounded through the house like thunder.
Every room above, and every cask in the wine-merchant's
cellars below, appeared to have a separate peal of echoes
of its own. Scrooge was not a man to be frightened by
echoes. He fastened the door, and walked across the
174 Greatest Short Stories
hall, and up the stairs. Slowly, too, trimming his candle
as he went.
Up Scrooge went, not caring a button for its being
very dark. Darkness is cheap, and Scrooge liked it.
But before he shut his heavy door, he walked through
his rooms to see that all was right. He had just enough
recollection of the face to desire to do that.
Sitting-room, bedroom, lumber-room, all as they should
be. Nobody under the table, nobody under the sofa ; a
small fire in the grate ; spoon and basin ready; and the
little saucepan of gruel (Scrooge had a cold in his head)
upon the hob. Nobody under the bed ; nobody in the
closet ; nobody in his dressing-gown, which was hanging
up in a suspicious attitude against the wall. Lumber-
room as usual. Old fire-guard, old shoes, two fish-bas-
kets, washing-stand on three legs, and a poker.
Quite satisfied, he closed his door, and locked himself
in ; double-locked himself in, which was not his custom.
Thus secured against surprise, he took off his cravat,
put on his dressing-gown and slippers and his night-
cap, and sat down before the very low fire to take his
gruel.
As he threw his head back in the chair, his glance
happened to rest upon a bell, a disused bell, that hung
in the room, and communicated, for some purpose now
forgotten, with a chamber in the highest story of the
building. It was with great astonishment, and with a
strange, inexplicable dread, that, as he looked, he saw
this bell begin to swing. Soon it rang out loudly, and
so did every bell in the house.
This was succeeded by a clanking noise, deep down
below, as if some person were dragging a heavy chain
over the casks in the wine-merchant's cellar.
Then he heard the noise much louder, on the floors
A Christmas Carol 175
below ; then coming up the stairs ; then coming straight
towards his door.
It came on through the heavy door, and a spectre
passed into the room before his eyes. And upon its
coming in, the dying flame leaped up, as though it cried,
" I know him ! Marley's ghost ! "
The same face, the very same. Marley in his pigtail,
usual waistcoat, tights, and boots. His body was trans-
parent ; so that Scrooge, observing him, and looking
through his waistcoat, could see the two buttons on his
coat behind.
Scrooge had often heard it said that Marley had no
bowels, but he had never believed it until now.
No, nor did he believe it even now. Though he
looked the phantom through and through, and saw it
standing before him, — though he felt the chilling influ-
ence of its death-cold eyes, and noticed the very texture
of the folded kerchief bound about its head and chin,
— he was still incredulous.
" How now ! " said Scrooge, caustic and cold as ever.
" What do you want with me ? "
" Much ! " — Marley's voice, no doubt about it.
"Who are you?"
"Ask me who I wasJ'^
" Who were you, then? "
" In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley."
" Can you — can you sit down? "
"lean."
" Do it, then."
Scrooge asked the question, because he did n't know
whether a ghost so transparent might find himself in a
condition to take a chair ; and felt that, in the event of
its being impossible, it might involve the necessity of an
embarrassing explanation. But the ghost sat down on
176 Greatest Short Stories
the opposite side of the fireplace, as if he were quite used
to it.
" You don't believe in me."
<' I don't."
" What evidence would you have of my reality beyond
that of your senses? "
" I don't know."
" Why do you doubt your senses ? "
" Because a little thing affects them. A slight disorder
of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an
undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of
cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There 's
more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you
are ! "
Scrooge was not much in the habit of cracking jokes,
nor did he feel in his heart by any means waggish then.
The truth is, that he tried to be smart, as a means of
distracting his own attention, and keeping down his
horror.
But how much greater was his horror when, the phan-
tom taking off the bandage round its head, as if it were
too warm to wear in-doors, its lower jaw dropped down
upon its breast !
" Mercy ! Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble
me? Why do spirits walk the earth, and why do they
come to me?"
" It is required of every man, that the spirit within
him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel
far and wide ; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it
is condemned to do so after death. I cannot tell you all
I would. A very little more is permitted to me. I can-
not rest, I cannot stay, I cannot Unger anywhere. My
spirit never walked beyond our counting-house, — mark
me ! — in life my spirit never roved beyond the narrow
A Christmas Carol 177
limits of our money-changing hole ; and weary journeys
lie before me ! "
"Seven years dead. And travelling all the time?
You travel fast? "
" On the wings of the wind."
" You might have got over a great quantity of ground
in seven years."
" O blind man, blind man ! not to know that ages of
incessant labor by immortal creatures for this earth must
pass into eternity before the good of which it is suscep-
tible is all developed. Not to know that any Christian
spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may
be, will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of
usefulness. Not to know that no space of regret can
make amends for one life's opportunities misused ! Yet
I was like this man ; I once was like this man ! "
" But you were always a good man of business, Jacob,"
faltered Scrooge, who now began to apply this to him-
self.
" Business ! " cried the ghost, wringing its hands again.
" Mankind was my business. The common welfare was
my business ; charity, mercy, forbearance, benevolence,
were all my business. The dealings of my trade were
but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my
business."
Scrooge was very much dismayed to hear the spectre
going on at this rate, and began to quake exceedingly.
" Hear me ! My time is nearly gone."
" I will. But don't be hard upon me ! Don't be flow-
ery, Jacob ! Pray ! "
** I am here to-night to warn you that you have yet a
chance and hope of escaping my fate. A chance and
hope of my procuring, Ebenezer."
" You were always a good friend to me. Thank*ee ! "
12
178 Greatest Short Stories
" You will be haunted by Three Spirits."
"Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Jacob?
I — I think I 'd rather not."
"Without their visits, you cannot hope to shun the
path I tread. Expect the first to-morrow night, when
the bell tolls One. Expect the second on the next
night at the same hour. The third, upon the next night,
when the last stroke of Twelve has ceased to vibrate.
Look to see me no more ; and look that, for your own
sake, you remember what has passed between us ! "
It walked backward from him ; and at every step it
took, the window raised itself a little, so that, when the
apparition reached it, it was wide open.
Scrooge closed the window, and examined the door
by which the Ghost had entered. It was double-locked,
as he had locked it with his own hands, and the bolts
were undisturbed. Scrooge tried to say, " Humbug ! "
but stopped at the first syllable. And being, from the
emotion he had undergone, or the fatigues of the
day, or his glimpse of the invisible world, or the dull
conversation of the Ghost, or the lateness of the hour,
much in need of repose, he went straight to bed, without
undressing, and fell asleep on the instant.
STAVE TWO
THE FIRST OF THE THREE SPIRITS
When Scrooge awoke, it was so dark, that, looking
out of bed, he could scarcely distinguish the transparent
window from the opaque walls of his chamber, until
suddenly the church clock tolled a deep, dull, hollow,
melancholy ONE.
Light flashed up in the room upon the instant, and
A Christmas Carol 179
the curtains of his bed were drawn aside by a strange
figure, — like a child : yet not so like a child as like an
old man, viewed through some supernatupl medium,
which gave him the appearance of having receded from
the view, and being diminished to a child's proportions.
Its hair, which hung about its neck and down its back,
was white as if with age ; and yet the face had not a
wrinkle in it, and the tenderest bloom was on the skin.
It held a branch of fresh green holly in its hand ; and,
in singular contradiction of that wintry emblem, had its
dress trimmed with summer flowers. But the strangest
thing about it was, that from the crown of its head there
sprung a bright clear jet of light, by which all this was
visible ; and which was doubtless the occasion of its
using, in its duller moments, a great extinguisher for a
cap, which it now held under its arm.
*' Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold
to me?"
'' I am ! " •
" Who and what are you?'*
" I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."
" Long past? "
*' No. Your past. The things that you will see with
me are shadows of the things that have been ; they will
have no consciousness of us."
Scrooge then made bold to inquire what business
brought him there.
" Your welfare. Rise, and walk with me ! "
It would have been in vain for Scrooge to plead that
the weather and the hour were not adapted to pedestrian
purposes ; that the bed was warm, and the thermometer
a long way below freezing ; that he was clad but lightly
in his slippers, dressing-gown, and nightcap ; and that
he had a cold upon him at that time. The grasp,
i8o Greatest Short Stories
though gentle as a woman's hand, was not to be resisted.
He rose ; but, finding that the Spirit made towards the
window, clawed its robe in supplication.
" I am a mortal, and liable to fall."
"Bear but a touch of my hand there, ^^ said the Spirit,
laying it upon his heart, " and you shall be upheld in
more than this ! "
As the words were spoken, they passed through the
wall, and stood in the busy thoroughfares of a city. It
was made plain enough by the dressing of the shops
that here, too, it was Christmas time.
The Ghost stopped at a certain warehouse door, and
asked Scrooge if he knew it.
" Know it ! Was I apprenticed here ! "
They went in. At sight of an old gentleman in a
Welsh wig, sitting behind such a high desk that, if he
had been two inches taller, he must have knocked his
head against the ceiling, Scrooge cried in great excite-
ment, " Why, it 's old Fezziwig ! Bless his heart, it 's
Fezziwig, alive again ! "
Old Fezziwig laid down his pen, and looked up at the
clock, which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed
his hands ; adjusted his capacious waistcoat ; laughed all
over himself, from his shoes to his organ of benevolence ;
and called out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat, jovial
voice, "Yo ho, there! Ebenezer ! Dick!"
A living and moving picture of Scrooge's former self,
a young man, came briskly in, accompany by his fellow-
'prentice.
*' Dick Wilkins, to be sure ! " said Scrooge to the
Ghost. " My old fellow-'prentice, bless me, yes. There
he is. He was very much attached to me, was Dick.
Poor Dick ! Dear, dear ! "
" Yo ho, my boys ! " said Fezziwig. " No more work
A Christmas Carol i8i
to-night. Christmas eve, Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer !
Let 's have the shutters up, before a man can say Jack
Robinson ! Clear away, my lads, and let 's have lots of
room here ! "
Clear away ! There was nothing they would n't have
cleared away, or couldn't have cleared away, with old
Fezziwig looking on. It was done in a minute. Every
movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from
public life forevermore ; the floor was swept and watered,
the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire ;
and the warehouse was as snug and warm and dry and
bright a ball-room as you would desire to see upon a
winter's night.
In came a fiddler with a music-book, and went up to
the lofty desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned
like fifty stomach-aches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one
vast substantial smile. In came the thre*e Miss Fezzi-
wigs, beaming and lovable. In came the six young
followers whose hearts they broke. In came all the
young men and women employed in the business. In
came the housemaid, with her cousin the baker. In
came the cook, with her brother's particular friend the
milkman. In they all came one after another; some
shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some awkwardly,
some pushing, some pulling ; in they all came, anyhow
and everyhow. Away they all went, twenty couple at
once ; hands half round and back again the other way ;
down the middle and up again ; round and round in
various stages of affectionate grouping ; old top couple
always turning up in the wrong place ; new top couple
starting off again, as soon as they got there ; all top
couples at last, and not a bottom one to help them.
When this result was brought about, old Fezziwig,
clapping his hands to stop the dance, cried out, " Well
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done ! " and the fiddler plunged his hot face into a pot
of porter especially provided for that purpose.
There were more dances, and there were forfeits, and
more dances, and there was cake, and there was negus,
and there was a great piece of Cold Roast, and there
was a great piece of Cold Boiled, and there were mince-
pies, and plenty of beer. But the great effect of the
evening came after the Roast and Boiled, when the
fiddler struck up " Sir Roger de Coverley." Then old
Fezziwig stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top
couple, too ; with a good stiff piece of work cut out for
them ; three or four and twenty pair of partners ; people
who were not to be trifled with ; people who would
dance, and had no notion of walking.
But if they had been twice as many, — four times, —
old Fezziwig would have been a match for them, and so
would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to her^ she was worthy to be
his partner in every sense of the term. A positive light
appeared to issue from Fezziwig's calves. They shone
in every part of the dance. You could n't have predicted,
at any given time, what would become of 'em next. And
when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all
through the dance, — advance and retire, turn your
partner, bow and courtesy, corkscrew, thread the needle,
and back again to your place, — Fezziwig "cut," —
cut so deftly, that he appeared to wink with his
legs.
When the clock struck eleven this domestic ball broke
up. Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on
either side the door, and, shaking hands with every per-
son individually as he or she went out, wished him or
her a Merry Christmas. When everybody had retired
but the two 'prentices, they did the same to them ; and
thus the cheerful voices died away, and the lads were
A Christmas Carol 183
left to their beds, which were under a counter in the
back shop.
" A small matter," said the Ghost, " to make these silly
folks so full of gratitude. He has spent but a few pounds
of your mortal money, — three or four perhaps. Is that
so much that he deserves this praise? "
" It is n't that," said Scrooge, heated by the remark,
and speaking unconsciously like his former, not his latter
self, — " it is n't that. Spirit. He has the power to ren-
der us happy or unhappy ; to make our service light or
burdensome, a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power
lies in words and looks ; in things so slight and insig-
nificant that it is impossible to add and count 'em up :
what then ? The happiness he gives is quite as great as
if it cost a fortune."
He felt the Spirit's glance, and stopped.
"What is the matter?"
"Nothing particular."
"Something, I think?"
" No, no. I should like to be able to say a word or
two to my clerk just now. That 's all."
" My time grows short," observed the Spirit. " Quick ! "
This was not addressed to Scrooge, or to any one
whom he could see, but it produced an immediate effect.
For again he saw himself. He was older now ; a man
in the prime of life.
He was not alone, but sat by the side of a fair young
girl in a black dress, in whose eyes there were tears.
" It matters little," she said softly to Scrooge's former
self. " To you, very little. Another idol has displaced
me ; and if it can comfort you in time to come, as I
would have tried to do, I have no just cause to grieve."
"What Idol hias displaced you? "
" A golden one. You fear the world too much. I
184 Greatest Short Stories
have seen your nobler aspirations fall off one by one,
until the master-passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have
I not?"
" What then ? Even if I have grown so much wiser,
what then? I am not changed towards you. Have I
ever sought release from our engagement ? '*
"In words, no. Never."
"In what, then?"
" In a changed nature ; in an altered spirit ; in an-
other atmosphere of Hfe ; another Hope as its great end.
If you were free to-day, to-morrow, yesterday, can even
I believe that you would choose a dowerless girl ; or,
choosing her, do I not know that your repentance and
regret would surely follow ? I do ; and I release you.
With a full heart, for the love of him you once were."
" Spirit ! remove me from this place."
" I told you these were shadows of the things that
have been," said the Ghost. " That they are what they
are, do not blame me ! "
" Remove me ! " Scrooge exclaimed. " I cannot bear
it ! Leave me ! Take me back. Haunt me no longer ! "
As he struggled with the Spirit he was conscious of
being exhausted, and overcome by an irresistible drowsi-
ness ; and, further, of being in his pwn bedroom. He
had barely time to reel to bed before he sank into a
heavy sleep.
STAVE THREE
THE SECOND OF THE THREE SPIRITS
Scrooge awoke in his own bedroom. There was no
doubt about that. But it and his own adjoining sitting-
room, into which he shuffled in his slippers, attracted
A Christmas Carol 185
by a great light there, had undergone a surprising trans-
formation. The walls and ceiling were so hung with
living green, that it looked a perfect grove. The leaves
of holly, mistletoe, and ivy reflected back the light, as
if so many little mirrors had been scattered there ; and
such a mighty blaze went roaring up the chimney, as that
petrifaction of a hearth had never known in Scrooge's
time, or Marley's, or for many and many a winter season
gone. Heaped upon the floor, to form a kind of throne,
were turkeys, geese, game, brawn, great joints of meat,
sucking pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-
puddings, barrels of oysters, red-hot chestnuts, cherry-
cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense
twelfth-cakes, and great bowls of punch. In easy state
upon this couch there sat a Giant glorious to see ; who
bore a glowing torch, in shape not unlike Plenty's horn,
and who raised it high to shed its light on Scrooge, as he
came peeping round the door.
" Come in, — come in ! and know me better, man !
I am the Ghost of Christmas Present. Look upon me !
You have never seen the like of me before ! "
" Never."
" Have never walked forth with the younger members
or my family ; meaning (for I am very young) my elder
brothers born in these later years? " pursued the Phan-
tom.
*' I don't think I have, I am afraid I have not. Have
you had many brothers. Spirit?"
" More than eighteen hundred."
" A tremendous family to provide for ! Spirit, con-
duct me where you will. I went forth last night on
compulsion, and I learnt a lesson which is working
now. To-night, if you have aught to teach me, let me
profit by it."
1 86 Greatest Short Stories
"Touch my robe ! "
Scrooge did as he was told, and held it fast.
The room and its contents all vanished instantly^ and
they stood in the city streets upon a snowy Christmas
morning.
Scrooge and the Ghost passed on, invisible, straight
to Scrooge's clerk's ; and on the threshold of the door
the Spirit smiled, and stopped to bless Bob Cratchit's
dwelling with the sprinklings of his torch. Think of
that ! Bob had but fifteen " Bob " ^ a week himself; he
pocketed on Saturdays but fifteen copies of his Christian
name ; and yet the Ghost of Christmas Present blessed
his four-roomed house !
Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed
out but poorly in a twice-turned gown, but brave in rib-
bons, which are cheap and make a goodly show for
sixpence ; and she laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda
Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in ribbons ;
while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the
saucepan of potatoes, and, getting the corners of his
monstrous shirt-collar (Bob's private property, conferred
upon his son and heir in honor of the day) into his
mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired, and
yearned to show his linen in the fashionable Parks. And
now two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in,
screaming that outside the baker's they had smelt the
goose, and known it for their own ; and, basking in luxu-
rious thoughts of sage and onion, these young Cratchits
danced about the table, and exalted Master Peter
Cratchit to the skies, while he (not proud, although his
collars nearly choked him) blew the fire, until the slow
potatoes, bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-
lid to be let out and peeled.
1 *' Bob " is English slang for " shilling."
A Christmas Carol 187
" What has ever got your precious father, then? " said
Mrs. Cratchit. " And your brother Tiny Tim ! And
Martha warn't as late last Christmas day by half an
hour ! "
" Here 's Martha, mother ! " said a girl, appearing as
she spoke.
*' Here 's Martha, mother ! " cried the two young
Cratchits. " Hurrah ! There 's such sl goose, Martha ! "
" Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you
are? " said Mrs. Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and
taking off her shawl and bonnet for her.
" We 'd a deal of work to finish up last night," replied
the girl, " and had to clear away this morning, mother ! "
*' Well ! Never mind so long as you are come," said
Mrs. Cratchit. " Sit ye down before the fire, my dear,
and have a warm. Lord bless ye ! "
"No, no! There's father coming," cried the two
young Cratchits, who were everywhere at once. *' Hide,
Martha, hide ! "
So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the
father, with at least three feet of comforter, exclusive
of the fringe, hanging down before him ; and his thread-
bare clothes darned up and brushed, to look seasonable ;
and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim,
he bore a little crutch, and had his limbs supported by
an iron frame !
"Why, Where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit,
looking round.
" Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit.
" Not coming ! " said Bob, with a sudden declension
in his high spirits; for he had been Tim's blood-
horse all the way from church, and had come home
rampant, — " not coming upon Christmas day ! "
Martha did n't like to see him disappointed, if it were
1 88 Greatest Short Stories
only in joke ; so she came out prematurely from behind
the closet door, and ran into his arms, while the two
young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off into
the wash-house that he might hear the pudding singing
in the copper.
"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs.
Cratchit, when she had rallied Bob on his credulity,
and Bob had hugged his daughter to his heart's content.
"As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow
he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks
the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming
home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church,
because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to
them to remember, upon Christmas day, who made
lame beggars walk and blind men see."
Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this,
and trembled more when he said that Tiny Tim was
growing strong and hearty.
His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and
back came Tiny Tim before another word was spoken,
escorted by his brother and sister to his stool beside the
fire ; and while Bob, turning up his cuffs, — as if, poor
fellow, they were capable of being made more shabby,
— compounded some hot mixture^ in a jug with gin
and lemons, and stirred it round and round and put
it on the hob to simmer. Master Peter and the two
ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with
which they soon returned in high procession.^
Mrs. Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a
little saucepan) hissing hot ; Master Peter mashed the
potatoes with incredible vigor ; Miss Belinda sweetened
up the apple-sauce ; Martha dusted the hot plates ; Bob
took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table ;
1 The goose had been cooked in the baker's oven, for economy.
A Christmas Carol 189
the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not
forgetting themselves, and mounting guard upon their
posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest they should
shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped.
At last the dishes were set on, and grace was said.
It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit,
looking slowly all along the carving-knife, prepared to
plunge it in the breast ; but when she did, and when the
long-expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur
of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny Tim,
excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table
with the handle of his knife, and feebly cried. Hurrah !
There never was such a goose. Bob said he did n't
believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its ten-
derness and flavor, size and cheapness, were the themes
of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and
mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole
family ; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight
(surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they
had n't ate it all at last ! Yet every one had had enough,
and the youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in
sage and onion to the eyebrows ! But now, the plates
being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the
room alone, — too nervous to bear witnesses, — to take
the pudding up, and bring it in.
Suppose it should not be done enough ! Suppose it
should break in turning out ! Suppose somebody should
have got over the wall of the back yard, and stolen it,
while they were merry with the goose, — a supposition at
which the two young Cratchits became livid ! All sorts
of horrors were supposed.
Hallo ! A great deal of steam ! The pudding was
out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day ! That
was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pas-
190 Greatest Short Stories
try-cook's next door to each other, with a laundress's
next door to that ! That was the pudding ! In half a
minute Mrs. Cratchit entered, — flushed but smiling
proudly, — with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-
ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half a quarter^
of ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly
stuck into the top.
O, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and
calmly, too, that he regarded it as the greatest success
achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs.
Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind, she
would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity
of flour. Everybody had something to say about it, but
nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding for
a large family. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint
at such a thing.
At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared,
the hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound
in the jug being tasted and considered perfect, apples
and oranges were put upon the table, and a shovelful of
chestnuts on the fire.
Then all the Cratchit family drew round the hearth, in
what Bob Cratchit called a circle, and at Bob Cratchit's
elbow stood the family display of glass, — two tumblers,
and a custard-cup without a handle.
These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well
as golden goblets would have done ; and Bob served it
out with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire
sputtered and crackled noisily. Then Bob proposed : —
*' A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless
us!"
Which all the family re-echoed.
" God bless us every one ! " said Tiny Tim, the last
of all.
A Christmas Carol 191
He sat very close to his father's side, upon his little
stool. Bob held his withered little hand in his, as if he
loved the child, and wished to keep him by his side, and
dreaded that he might be taken from him.
Scrooge raised his head speedily, on hearing his own
name.
"Mr. Scrooge !" said Bob; "I'll give you Mr.
Scrooge, the Founder of the Feast ! "
" The Founder of the Feast, indeed ! " cried Mrs.
Cratchit, reddening. " I wish I had him here. I 'd
give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and I hope
he 'd have a good appetite for it."
" My dear," said Bob, " the children ! Christmas day."
" It should be Christmas day, I am sure," said she,
" on which one drinks the health of such an odious,
stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Mr. Scrooge. You know
he is, Robert ! Nobody knows it better than you do,
poor fellow ! "
" My dear," was Bob's mild answer, " Christmas day."
" I '11 drink his health for your sake and the day's,"
said Mrs. Cratchit, " not for his. Long life to him. A
merry Christmas and a happy New Year ! He '11 be
very merry and very happy, I have no doubt ! "
The children drank the toast after her. It was the
first of their proceedings which had no heartiness in it.
Tiny Tim drank it last of all, but he did n't care two-
pence for it. Scrooge was the Ogre of the family. The
mention of his name cast a dark shadow on the party,
which was not dispelled for full five minutes.
After it had passed away, they were ten times merrier
than before, from the mere relief of Scrooge the Baleful
being done with. Bob Cratchit told them how he had
a situation in his eye for Master Peter, which would
bring in, if obtained, full five and sixpence weekly,
192 Greatest Short Stories
The two young Cratchits laughed tremendously at the
idea of Peter's being a man of business ; and Peter him-
self looked thoughtfully at the fire from between his
collars, as if he were deliberating what particular invest-
ments he should favor when he came into the receipt of
that bewildering income. Martha, who was a poor ap-
prentice at a milliner's, then told them, what kind of
work she had to do, and how many hours she worked at
a stretch, and how she meant to lie abed to-morrow morn-
ing for a good long rest ; to-morrow being a holiday she
passed at home. Also how she had seen a countess and a
lord some days before, and how the lord " was much about
as tall as Peter " ; at which Peter pulled up his collars so
high that you could n't have seen his head if you had
been there. All this time the chestnuts and the jug went
round and round ; and by and by they had a song, about
a lost child travelling in the snow, from Tiny Tim, who
had a plaintive little voice, and sang it very well indeed.
There was nothing of high mark in this. They were
not a handsome family ; they were not well dressed ; their
shoes were far from being water-proof; their clothes were
scanty; and Peter might have known, and very likely
did, the inside of a pawnbroker's. But they were happy,
grateful, pleased with one another, and contented with the
time ; and when they faded, and looked happier yet in
the bright sprinklings of the Spirit's torch at parting,
Scrooge had his eye upon them, and especially on Tiny
Tim, until the last.
It was a great surprise to Scrooge, as this scene van-
ished, to hear a hearty laugh. It was a much greater
surprise to Scrooge to recognize it as his own nephew's,
and to find himself in a bright, dry, gleaming room, with
the Spirit standing smiling by his side, and looking at
that same nephew.
A Christmas Carol 193
It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things,
that while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there
is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laugh-
ter and good-humor. When Scrooge's nephew laughed,
Scrooge's niece by marriage laughed as heartily as he.
And their assembled friends, being not a bit behindhand,
laughed out lustily.
" He said that Christmas was a humbug, as I live ! "
cried Scrooge's nephew. " He beHeved it too ! "
" More shame for him, Fred ! " said Scrooge's niece,
indignantly. Bless those women ! they never do any-
thing by halves. They are always in earnest.
She was very pretty, exceedingly pretty. With a
dimpled, surprised-looking, capital face ; a ripe little
mouth that seemed made to be kissed, — as no doubt it
was; all kinds of good little dots about her chin, that
melted into one another when she laughed ; and the sunni-
est pair of eyes you ever saw in any little creature's head.
Altogether she was what you would have called provoking,
but satisfactory, too. O, perfectly satisfactory !
" He 's a comical old fellow," said Scrooge's nephew,
" that 's the truth ; and not so pleasant as he might be.
However, his offences carry their own punishment, and
I have nothing to say against him. Who suffers by his
ill whims? Himself, always. Here he takes it into his
head to dislike us, and he won't come and dine with us.
What's the consequence? He don't lose much of a
dinner."
" Indeed, I think he loses a very good dinner," in-
terrupted Scrooge's niece. Everybody else said the
same, and they must be allowed to have been competent
judges, because they had just had dinner ; and, with the
dessert upon the table, were clustered round the fire, by
lamplight.
13
194 Greatest Short Stories
•' Well, I am very glad to hear it," said Scrooge's
nephew, " because I have n't any great faith in these
young housekeepers. What do you say. Topper? "
Topper clearly had his eye on one of Scrooge's niece's
sisters, for he answered that a bachelor was a wretched
outcast, who had no right to express an opinion on the
subject. Whereat Scrooge's niece's sister — the plump
one with the lace tucker, not the one with the roses —
blushed.
After tea they had some music. For they were a
musical family, and knew what they were about, when
they sung a Glee or Catch, I can assure you, — espe-
cially Topper, who could growl away in the bass like a
good one, and never swell the large veins in his forehead,
or get red in the face over it.
But they did n't devote the whole evening to music.
After a while they played at forfeits ; for it is good to
be children sometimes, and never better than at Christ-
mas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself.
There was first a game at blind-man's-buff, though. And
I no more believe Topper was really blinded than I be-
lieve he had eyes in his boots. Because the way in which
he went after that plump sister in the lace tucker was an
outrage on the creduhty of human nature. Knocking
down the fire-irons, tumbling over the chairs, bumping
up against the piano, smothering himself among the cur-
tains, wherever she went there went he ! He always
knew where the plump sister was. He would n't catch
anybody else. If you had fallen up against him, as some
of them did, and stood there, he would have made a
feint of endeavoring to seize you, which would ^ have
been an affront to your understanding, and would
instantly have sidled off in the direction of the plump
sister.
A Christmas Carol 195
" Here is a new game," said Scrooge. " One half-
hour, Spirit, only one ! "
It was a Game called Yes and No, where Scrooge's
nephew had to think of something, and the rest must
find out what ; he only answering to their questions yes
or no, as the case was. The fire of questioning to which
he was exposed elicited from him that he was thinking of
an animal, a live animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a
savage animal, an animal that growled and grunted some-
times, and talked sometimes, and lived in London, and
walked about the streets, and wasn't made a show of,
and was n't led by anybody, and did n't live in a me-
nagerie, and was never killed in a market, and was not
a horse, or an ass, or a cow, or a bull, or a tiger, or a
dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear. At every new question
put to him, this nephew burst into a fresh roar of laugh-
ter ; and was so inexpressibly tickled, that he was obliged
to get up off the sofa and stamp. At last the plump sis-
ter cried out, —
" I have found it out ! I know what it is, Fred ! I
know what it is ! "
"What is it?" cried Fred.
" It 's your uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge ! "
Which it certainly was. Admiration was the universal
sentiment, though some objected that the reply to " Is
it a bear?" ought to have been "Yes."
Uncle Scrooge had imperceptibly become so gay and
light of heart, that he would have drunk to the uncon-
scious company in an inaudible speech. But the whole
scene passed off in the breath of the last word spoken
by his nephew ; and he and the Spirit were again upon
their travels.
Much they saw, and far they went, and many homes
they visited, but always with a happy end. The Spirit
196 Greatest Short Stories
stood beside sick-beds, and they were cheerful ; on for-
eign lands, and they were close at home ; by struggling
men, and they were patient in their greater hope ; by
poverty, and it was rich. In almshouse, hospital, and
jail, in misery's every refuge, where vain man in his little
brief authority had not made fast the door, and barred
the Spirit out, he left his blessing, and taught Scrooge his
precepts. Suddenly, as they stood together in an open
place ; the bell struck twelve.
Scrooge looked about him for the Ghost, and saw it
no more. As the last stroke ceased to vibrate, he re-
membered the prediction of old Jacob Marley, and, lift-
ing up his eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and
hooded, coming like a mist along the ground towards
him.
STAVE FOUR
THE LAST OF THE SPIRITS
The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approached.
When it came near him, Scrooge bent down upon his
knee ; for in the air through which this Spirit moved it
seemed to scatter gloom and mystery.
It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which con-
cealed its head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it
visible save one outstretched hand. He knew no more,
for the Spirit neither spoke nor moved.
" I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet
To Come? Ghost of the Future ! I fear you more
than any spectre I have seen. But as I know your pur-
pose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be an-
other man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you
company, and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not
speak to me ? "
A Christmas Carol 197
It gave him no reply. The hand was pointed straight
before them.
" Lead on ! Lead on ! The night is waning fast, and
it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit ! "
They scarcely seemed to enter the city ; for the city
rather seemed to spring up about them. But there they
were in the heart of it ; on 'Change, amongst the mer-
chants.
The Spirit stopped beside one little knot of business
men. Observing that the hand was pointed to them,
Scrooge advanced to listen to their talk.
" No," said a great fat man with a monstrous chin, "I
don't know much about it either way. I only know he 's
dead."
" When did he die ? " inquired another.
" Last night, I believe."
"Why, what was the matter with him? I thought
he 'd never die."
" God knows," said the first, with a yawn.
"What has he done with his money?" asked a red-
faced gentleman.
" I have n't heard," said the man with the large chin.
" Company, perhaps. He has n't left it to me. That 's
all I know. By, by ! "
Scrooge was at first inclined to be surprised that the
Spirit should attach importance to conversation appar-
ently so trivial ; but feeling assured that it must have
some hidden purpose, he set himself to consider what
it was likely to be. It could scarcely be supposed to
have any bearing on the death of Jacob, his old partner,
for that was Past, and this Ghost's province was the
Future.
He looked about in that very place for his own image ;
but another man stood in his accustomed comer, and
198 Greatest Short Stories
though the clock pointed to his usual time of day for
being there, he saw no likeness of himself among the
multitudes that poured in through the Porch. It gave
him little surprise, however ; for he had been revolving
in his mind a change of life, and he thought and
hoped he saw his new-born resolutions carried out in
this.
They left this busy scene, and went into an obscure
part of the town, to a low shop where iron, old rags,
bottles, bones, and greasy offal were bought. A gray-
haired rascal, of great age, sat smoking his pipe.
Scrooge and the Phantom came into the presence of
this man, just as a woman with a heavy bundle slunk
into the shop. But she had scarcely entered, when
another woman, similarly laden, came in too ; and she
was closely followed by a man in faded black. After a
short period of blank astonishment, in which the old
man with the pipe had joined them, they all three burst
into a laugh.
" Let the charwoman alone to be the first ! " cried she
who had entered first. " Let the laundress alone to be
the second ; and let the undertaker's man alone to be
the third. Look here, old Joe, here 's a chance ! If we
have n't all three met here without meaning it ! "
" You could n't have met in better place. You were
made free of it long ago, you know ; and the other two
ain't strangers. What have you got to sell? What
have you got to sell?"
" Half a minute's patience, Joe, and you shall see."
" What odds then ! What odds, Mrs. Dilber? " said
the woman. " Every person has a right to take care
of themselves. He always did ! Who 's the worse for
the loss of a few things like these? Not a dead man,
I suppose."
A Christmas Carol 199
Mrs. Dilber, whose manner was remarkable for gen-
eral propitiation, said, " No, indeed, ma'am."
•'* If he wanted to keep 'em after he was dead, a wicked
old screw, why was n't he natural in his lifetime ? If
he had been, he 'd have had somebody to look after him
when he was struck with Death, instead of lying gasping
out his last there, alone by himself."
" It 's the truest word that ever was spoke ; it 's a
judgment on him."
" I wish it was a little heavier judgment, and it should
have been, you may depend upon it, if I could have laid
my hands on anything else.. Open that bundle, old Joe,
and let me know the value of it. Speak out plain. I 'm
not afraid to be the first, nor afraid for them to see it."
Joe went down on his knees for the greater conven-
ience of opening the bundle, and dragged out a large
and heavy roll of some dark stuff.
'^ What do you call this? Bed-curtains ! "
" Ah ! Bed-curtains ! Don't drop that oil upon the
blankets, now."
''Bis blankets?"
** Whose else's, do you think ? He is n't likely to take
cold without 'em, I dare say. Ah ! You may look
through that shirt till your eyes ache ; but you won't
find a hole in it, nor a threadbare place. It is the best
he had, and a fine one too. They 'd have wasted it by
dressing him up in it, if it had n't been for me."
Scrooge listened to this dialogue in horror.
" Spirit ! I see, I see. The case of this unhappy
man might be my own. My life tends that way now.
Merciful Heaven, what is this?"
The scene had changed, and now he almost touched a
bare, uncurtained bed. A pale light, rising in the outer
air, fell straight upon this bed ; and on it, unwatched,
200 Greatest Short Stories
unwept, uncared for, was the body of this plundered
unknown man.
" Spirit, let me see some tenderness connected with a
death, or this dark chamber, Spirit, will be forever
present to me."
The Ghost conducted him to poor Bob Cratchit's
house, — the dwelling he had visited before, — and
found the mother and the children seated round the
fire.
Quiet. Very quiet. The noisy little Cratchits were
as still as statues in one corner, and sat looking up at
Peter, who had a book before him. The mother and
her daughters were engaged in needlework. But surely
they were very quiet !
" ' And he took a child, and set him in the midst of
them.' "
Where had Scrooge heard those words ? He had not
dreamed them. The boy must have read them out, as
he and the Spirit crossed the threshold. Why did he
not go on?
The mother laid her work upon the table, and put
her hand up to her face.
"The color hurts my eyes," she said.
The color? Ah, poor Tiny Tim !
" They 're better now again. Tt makes them weak by
candle-light; and I wouldn't show weak eyes to your
father when he comes home, for the world. It must be
near his time."
" Past it, rather," Peter answered, shutting up his
book. " But I think he has walked a little slower than
he used, these few last evenings, mother."
" I have known him walk with — I have known him
walk with Tiny Tim upon his shoulder, very fast indeed."
" And so have I," cried Peter. " Often."
A Christmas Carol 201
" And so have I," exclaimed another. So had all.
" But he was very light to carry, and his father loved
him so, that it was no trouble, — no trouble. And there
is your father at the door ! "
She hurried out to meet him ; and little Bob in his
comforter — he had need of it, poor fellow — came in.
His tea was ready for him on the hob, and they all tried
who should help him to it most. Then the two young
Cratchits got upon his knees and laid, each child, a little
cheek against his face, as if they said, " Don't mind it,
father. Don't be grieved ! "
Bob was very cheerful with them, and spoke pleasantly
to all the family. He looked at the work upon the
table, and praised the industry and speed of Mrs.
Cratchit and the girls. They would be done long
before Sunday, he said.
" Sunday ! You went to-day, then, Robert ? "
"Yes, my dear," returned Bob. "I wish you could
have gone. It would have done you good to see how
green a place it is. But you '11 see it often. I promised
him that I would walk there on a Sunday. My little,
Httle child ! My little child ! "
He broke down all at once. He could n't help it.
If he could have helped it, he and the child would have
been farther apart, perhaps, than they were.
" Spectre," said Scrooge, " something informs me that
our parting moment is at hand. I know it, but I know
not how. Tell me what man that was, with the covered
face, whom we saw lying dead ? "
The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come conveyed him
to a dismal, wretched, ruinous churchyard.
The Spirit stood among the graves, and pointed down
to One.
** Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you
202 Greatest Short Stories
point, answer me one question. Are these the shadows
of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of the
things that May be only?"
Still the Ghost pointed downward to the grave by
which it stood.
" Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to
which, if persevered in, they must lead. But if the
courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it
is thus with what you show me ! "
The Spirit was immovable as ever.
Scrooge crept towards it, trembling as he went; and,
following the finger, read upon the stone of the neglected
grave his own name, — Ebenezer Scrooge.
" Am / that man who lay upon the bed ? No, Spirit !
no, no ! Spirit ! hear me* ! I am not the man I was.
1 will not be the man I must have been but for this
intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope ?
Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you
have shown me by an altered life."
For the first time the kind hand faltered.
** I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep
it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and
the Future. The Spirits of all three shall strive within
me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. O,
tell me I may sponge aw^y the writing on this stone ! "
Holding up his hands in one last prayer to have his
fate reversed, he saw an alteration in the Phantom's
hood and dress. It shrunk, collapsed, and dwindled
down into a bedpost.
Yes, and the bedpost was his own. The bed was his
own, the room was his own. Best and happiest of all,
the Time before him was his own, to make amends in !
He was checked in his transports by the churches
ringing out the lustiest peals he had ever heard.
A Christmas Carol 203
Running to the window, he opened it, and put out
his head. No fog, no mist, no night; clear, bright,
stirring, golden day !
^'What's to-day?" cried Scrooge, calling downward
to a boy in Sunday clothes, who perhaps had loitered in
to look about him.
"Eh?"
"What 's to-day, my finje fellow? "
"To-day ! Why, Christmas day."
" It 's Christmas day ! I have n't missed it. Hallo,
my fine fellow ! "
"Hallo!"
" Do you know the Poulterer's, in the next street but
one, at the corner?"
" I should hope I did."
" An intelligent boy ! A remarkable boy ! Do you
know whether they 've sold the prize Turkey that was
hanging up there ? Not the little prize Turkey, — the
big one?"
" What, the one as big as me ? "
" What a delightful boy ! It 's a pleasure to talk to
him. Yes, my buck ! "
" It 's hanging there now."
"Is it? Go and buy it."
" Walk-ER ! " exclaimed the boy.
" No, no, I am in earnest. Go and buy it, and tell
'em to bring it here, that I may give them the direction
where to take it. Come back with the man, and I '11
give you a shilling. Come back with him in less than
five minutes, and I '11 give you half a crown ! "
The boy was off like a shot.
" I '11 send it to Bob Cratchit's ! He sha'n't know who
sends it. It 's twice the size of Tiny Tim. Joe Miller
never made such a joke as sending it to Bob's will be ! *'
204 Greatest Short Stories
The hand in which he wrote the address was not a
steady one; but write it he did, somehow, and went
down stairs to open the street door, ready for the com-
ing of the poulterer's man.
It was a Turkey ! He never could have stood upon
his legs, that bird. He would have snapped *em short
off in a minute, like sticks of sealing-wax.
Scrooge dressed himself ** all in his best," and at last
got out into the streets. The people were by this time
pouring forth, as he had seen them with the Ghost of
Christmas Present ; and, walking with his hands behind
him, Scrooge regarded every one with a delighted smile.
He looked so irresistibly pleasant, in a word, that three
or four good-humored fellows said, " Good morning, sir !
A merry Christmas to you ! " and Scrooge said often
afterwards, that, of all the blithe sounds he had ever
heard, those were the blithest in his ears.
In the afternoon, he turned his steps towards his
nephew's house.
He passed the door a dozen times, before he had the
courage to go up and knock. But he made a dash, and
did it.
" Is your master at home, my dear? " said Scrooge to
the girl. Nice girl ! Very.
" Yes, sir."
" Where is he, my love ? "
" He 's in the dining-room, sir, along with mistress."
" He knows me," said Scrooge, with his hand already
on the dining-room lock. " I '11 go in here, my dear."
" Fred ! "
" Why, bless my soul ! " cried Fred, " who 's that? "
" It 's I. Your uncle Scrooge. I have come to din-
ner. Will you let me in, Fred ? "
Let him in 1 It is a mercy he did n't shake his arna
A Christmas Carol 205
off. He was at home in five minutes. Nothing could
be heartier. His niece looked just the same. So did
Topper when he came. So did the plump sister when
she came. So did every one when they came. Won-
derful party, wonderful games, wonderful unanimity,
won-der-ful happiness !
But he was early at the office next morning. O, he
was early there ! If he could only be there first, and
catch Bob Cratchit coming late ! That was the thing he
had set his heart upon.
And he did it. The clock struck nine. No Bob. A
quarter past. No Bob. Bob was full eighteen minutes
and a half behind his time. Scrooge sat with his door
wide open, that he might see him come into the Tank.
Bob's hat was off before he opened the door ; his com-
forter too. He was on his stool in a jiffy j driving away
with his pen, as if he were trying to overtake nine
o'clock.
" Hallo ! " growled Scrooge in his accustomed voice,
as near as he could feign it. *' What do you mean by
coming here at this time of day? "
" I am very sorry, sir. I am behind my time."
** You are ? Yes. I think you are. Step this way,
if you please."
" It 's only once a year, sir. It shall not be repeated.
I was making rather merry yesterday, sir."
*' Now, I '11 tell you what, my friend. I am not going
to stand this sort of thing any longer. And therefore,"
Scrooge continued, leaping from his stool, and giving
Bob such a dig in the waistcoat that he staggered back
into the Tank again, — " and therefore I am about to
raise your salary ! "
Bob trembled, and got a little nearer to the ruler.
" A merry Christmas, Bob ! " said Scrooge, with an
2o6 Greatest Short Stories
earnestness that could not be mistaken, as he clapped
him on the back. " A merrier Christmas, Bob, my good
fellow, than I have given you for many a year ! I '11
raise your salary, and endeavor to assist your struggling
family, and we will discuss your affairs this very after-
noon, over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop. Bob !
Make up the fires, and buy a second coal-scuttle before
you dot another i. Bob Cratchit ! "
Scrooge was better than his -word. He did it all, and
infinitely more ; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he
was a second father. He became as good a friend, as
good a master, and as good a man as the good old city
knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough in
the good old world. Some people laughed to see the
alteration in him ; but his own heart laughed, and that
was quite enough for him.
He had no further intercourse with spirits, but lived
in that respect upon the total-abstinence principle ever
afterward ; and it was always said of him, that he knew
how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed
the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of
us ! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless us, every
one I
VII
A PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY
A PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY
FROM
'^BARRT LTNDON"
By W. M. THACKERAY
INTRODUCTORY
THE POWER OF RESERVE
ATTENTION has already been called to
the fact that prose style was a contribu-
tion of the essayists of the eighteenth
century. We have seen that at its best it was
constantly lending itself to fiction, until fiction
practically monopolized it. Among writers of
fiction it was Thackeray who perfected and made
best use of it. He is the acknowledged master of
limpid and beautiful style.
We shall find it instructive to compare the styles
of Dickens and Thackeray. The first thing that
strikes us in Thackeray is the even, musical flow
of his sentences, his words tripping along with
never an ungraceful angle. The sentences of
Dickens are more on a dead level of monotony;
but he secures variety by piling up his phrases,
one on top of another, and arranging them in all
kinds of fantastic geometrical figures, so to speak.
14
2IO Greatest Short Stories
Each succeeding section of his work seems to
bloom forth, opening in a splendid flower, like an
expanding rose. His methods are mechanical to
a considerable extent, like the methods of verse;
but he attains great variety, and holds the reader
by the tender feeling that is ever springing up
afresh in his heart, to be poured into his charac-
ters. With Thackeray, all is refinement and pol-
ish, all is graceful, easy movement; his humor is
whimsical, like that of the essayists, never senti-
mental ; and he is ever restrained, as a gentleman
should be. ** A Princess's Tragedy " is as free
from exaggeration as " Patient Griselda " or
"Aladdin;" but Thackeray is deliberate in his
withholding, while the earlier writers were igno-
rant of the art of expansion. As a result, we seem
to see all that is left unexpressed and much more.
This is because Thackeray saw it, and that which
he did not describe still left its impress upon what
he did. In Thackeray, words seemed to gain at-
mospheres and aromas of their own, due to the
delicate and suggestive turning^ of his phrases.
Dickens's method was more obvious, more strik-
ing, and hence more attractive, except to the judi-
cious few. The refinements of Thackeray's style
are more difficult to describe, and can be mastered
and imitated only by those who are especially sen-
sitive to delicate shades of meanings in words.
In " A Princess's Tragedy " we find none of
the light and winning humor which characterizes
"Vanity Fair," for example; and if we compare
A Princess's Tragedy 2H
the two we shall easily perceive the quality which
made that book so much more popular than ** Barry
Lyndon." The story has all the elements of the
blood-and-thunder dime novel, but Thackeray's
reserve, as well as his art, raises it into a drama
awful and majestic.
A PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY
ROSINA of Liliengarten it was, indeed — such a full
blown Rosina I have seldom seen. I found her in
a decent first-floor in Leicester Fields (the poor soul
fell much lower afterwards) drinking tea, which had
somehow a very strong smell of brandy in it; and
after salutations, which would be more tedious to
recount than they were to perform, and after further
straggling conversation, she gave me briefly the fol-
lowing narrative of the events in X , which I may
well entitle the " Princess's Tragedy."
"You remember Monsieur de Geldern, the Police
Minister. He was of Dutch extraction, and, what is
more, of a family of Dutch Jews. Although every-
body was aware of this blot in his scutcheon, he was
mortally angry if ever his origin was suspected; and
made up for his father's errors by outrageous professions
of religion, and the most austere practices of devotion.
He visited church every morning, confessed once a week,
and hated Jews and Protestants as much as an inquisitor
could do. He never lost an opportunity of proving his
sincerity, by persecuting one or the other whenever oc-
casion fell in his way.
" He hated the princess mortally ; for her highness in
212 Greatest Short Stories
some whim had insulted him with his origin, caused pork
to be removed from before him at table, or injured him
in some such silly way ; and he had a violent animosity
to the old Baron de Magny, both in his capacity of
Protestant, and because the latter in some haughty mood
had publicly turned his back upon him as a sharper and
a spy. Perpetual quarrels were taking place between
them in council ; where it was only the presence of his
august masters that restrained the baron from publicly
and frequently expressing the contempt which he felt foi
the officer of police.
" Thus Geldern had hatred as one reason for ruining
the princess, and it is my belief he had a stronger motive
still — interest. You remember whom the duke married,
after the death of his first wife ? — a princess of the
house of F . Geldern built his fine palace two
years after, and, as I feel convinced, with the money which
was paid to him by the F family for forwarding the
match.
" To go to Prince Victor, and report to his highness a
case which everybody knew, was not by any means
Geldern's desire. He knew the man would be ruined
forever in the prince's estimation who carried him in-
telligence so disastrous. His aim, therefore, was, to leave
the matter to explain itself to his highness ; and, when
the time was ripe, he cast about for a means of carrying
his point. He had spies in the houses of the elder and
younger Magny ; but this you know, of course, from your
experience of Continental customs. We had all spies
over each other. Your black (Zamor, I think, was his
name) used to give me reports every morning ; and I
used to entertain the dear old duke with stories of you
and your uncle practising piquet and dice in the morn-
ing, and with your quarrels and intrigues. We levied
A Princess's Tragedy 213
similar contributions on everybody in X , to amuse
the dear old man. Monsieur de Magny's valet used to
report both to me and Monsieur de Geldern.
" I knew of the fact of the emerald being in pawn ;
and it was out of my exchequer that the poor princess
drew the funds which were spent upon the odious Lowe,
and the still more worthless young chevalier. How the
princess could trust the latter as she persisted in doing,
is beyond my comprehension ; but there is no infatua-
tion like that of a woman in love, and you will remark,
my dear Monsieur de Balibari, that our sex generally fix
upon a bad man."
" Not always, Madam," I interposed ; " your humble
servant has created many such attachments."
" I do not see that that affects the truth of the proposi-
tion," said the old lady dryly, and continued her narrative.
" The Jew who held the emerald had had many dealings
with the princess, and at last was offered a bribe of such
magnitude, that he determined to give up the pledge.
He committed the inconceivable imprudence of bringing
the emerald with him to X , and waited on Magny,
who was provided by the princess with the money to re-
deem the pledge, and was actually ready to pay it.
" Their interview took place in Magny's own apart-
ments, when his valet overheard every word of their
conversation. The young man, who was always utterly
careless of money when it was in his possession, was so
easy in offering it, that Lowe rose in his demands, and
had the conscience to ask double the sum for which he
had previously stipulated.
"At this the chevalier lost all patience, fell on the
wretch, and was for killing him ; when the opportune
valet rushed in and saved him. The man had heard
every word of the conversation between the disputants,
214 Greatest Short Stories
and the Jew ran flying with terror into his arms ; and
Magny, a quick and passionate but not a violent man.
bade the servant lead the villain down stairs, and
thought no more of him.
" Perhaps he was not sorry to be rid of him, and to
have in his possession a large sum of money, four thou-
sand ducats, with which he could tempt fortune once
more ; as you know he did at your table that night."
" Your ladyship went halves. Madam," said I ; " and
you know how little I was the better for my winnings."
" The man conducted the trembling Israelite out of
the palace, and no sooner had seen him lodged at the
house of one of his brethren, where he was accustomed
to put up, than he went away to the office of his Excel-
lency the Minister of Police, and narrated every word of
the conversation which had taken place between the Jew
and his master.
"Geldern expressed the greatest satisfaction at his
spy's prudence and fidelity. He gave him a purse of
twenty ducats, and promised to provide for him hand-
somely : as great men do sometimes promise to reward
their instruments ; but you. Monsieur de Balibari, know
how seldom those promises are kept. ' Now, go and
find out,' said Monsieur de Geldern, * at what time the
Israelite proposes to return home again, or whether he
will repent and take the money.' The man went on
this errand. Meanwhile,, to make matters sure, Geldern
arranged a play-party at my house, inviting you thither
with your bank, as you may remember; and finding
means, at the same time, to let Maxime de Magny know
that there was to be faro at Madame de Lilicngarten's.
It was an invitation the poor fellow never neglected."
I remembered the facts, and listened on, amazed at
the artifice of the infernal Minister of Police.
A Princess's Tragedy 215
" The spy came back from his message to Lowe, and
stated that he had made inquiries among the servants of
the house where the Heidelberg banker lodged, and that
it was the latter's intention to leave X that after-
noon. He travelled by himself, riding an old horse,
exceedingly humbly attired, after the manner of his
people.
" ' Johann,' said the Minister, clapping the pleased spy
upon the shoulder, *I am more and more pleased with
you. 1 have been thinking, since you left me, of your
intelligence, and the faithful manner in which you have
served me ; and shall soon find an occasion to place you
according to your merits. Which way does this Israel-
itish scoundrel take ? '
" * He goes to R to-night.'
" * And must pass by the Kaiserwald. Are you a man
of courage, Johann Kerner? '
"*WilI your Excellency try me?' said the man, his
eyes glittering : * I served through the Seven Years' War,
and was never known to fail there.'
" ' Now, listen. The emerald must be taken from
that Jew : in the very keeping it the scoundrel has com-
mitted high treason. To the man who brings me that
emerald I swear I will give five hundred louis. You
understand why it is necessary that it should be restored
to her highness. I need say no more.'
"'You shall have it to-night, sir,' said the man. 'Of
course your Excellency will hold me harmless in case
of accident.'
" * Psha ! ' answered the Minister ; * I will pay you
half the money beforehand j such is my confidence in
you. Accident 's impossible, if you take your measures
properly. There are four leagues of wood; the Jew
rides slowly. It will be night before he can reach, let
2i6 Greatest Short Stories
us say, the old Powder-Mill in the wood. What's to
prevent you from putting a rope across the road, and
deahng with him there ? Be back with me this even-
ing at supper. If you meet any of the patrol, say
" Foxes are loose," — that 's the word for to-night.
They will let you pass them without questions.'
" The man went off quite charmed with his commis-
sion ; and when Magny was losing his money at our
faro-table, his servant waylaid the Jew at the spot
named the Powder-Mill in the Kaiserwald. The Jew's
horse stumbled over a rope which had been placed
across the road ; and, as the rider fell groaning to the
ground, Johann Kerner rushed out on him, masked,
and pistol in hand, and demanded his money. He
had no wish to kill the Jew, I believe, unless his re-
sistance should render extreme measures necessary.
"Nor did he commit any such murder; for, as the
yelling Jew roared for mercy, and his assailant menaced
him with a pistol, a squad of patrol came up, and laid
hold of the robber and the wounded man.
" Kerner swore an oath. * You have come too soon,'
said he to the sergeant of the police. * Foxes are loose.^
* Some are caught,' said the sergeant, quite uncon-
cerned ; and bound the fellow's hands with the rope
which he had stretched across the road to entrap the
Jew. He was placed behind a policeman on a horse ;
Lowe was similarly accommodated, and the party thus
came back into the town as the night fell.
" They were taken forthwith to the police quarter ;
and, as the chief happened to be there, they were ex-
amined by his Excellency in person. Both were rigor-
ously searched ; the Jew's papers and cases taken from
him : the jewel was found in a private pocket. As for the
spy, the Minister, looking at him angrily, said, * Why,
A Princess's Tragedy 217
this is the servant of the Chevalier de Magny, one of her
highness's equerries ! ' and without hearing a word in
exculpation from the poor frightened wretch, ordered
him into close confinement.
" Calling for his horse, he then rode to the prince's
apartments at the palace, and asked for an instant
audience. When admitted, he produced the emerald.
* This jewel,* said he, * has been found on the person of a
Heidelberg Jew, who has been here repeatedly of late,
and has had many dealings with her highness's equerry,
the Chevalier de Magny. This afternoon the cheva-
lier's servant came from his master's lodgings, accompa-
nied by the Hebrew ; was heard to make inquiries as to
the route the man intended to take on his way home-
wards ; followed him, or preceded him rather, and was
found in the act of rifling his victim by my police in
the Kaiserwald. The man will confess nothing; but,
on being searched, a large sum in gold was found on
his person ; and though it is with the utmost pain that
I can bring myself to entertain such an opinion, and to
implicate a gentleman of the character and name of
Monsieur de Magny, I do submit that our duty is to
have the chevalier examined relative to the affair. As
Monsieur de Magny is in her highness's private service,
and in her confidence, I have heard, I would not ven-'
ture to apprehend him without your highness's per-
mission.'
" The prince's master of the horse, a friend of the old
Baron de Magny, who was present at the interview, no
sooner heard the strange intelligence, than he hastened
away to the old general, with the dreadful news of his
grandson's supposed crime. Perhaps his highness him-
self was not unwilling that his old friend and tutor in
arms should have the chance of saving his family from
2i8 Greatest Short Stories
disgrace ; at all events, Monsieur de Hengst, the Master
of the Horse, was permitted to go off to the baron un-
disturbed, and break to him the intelligence of the accu-
sation pending over the unfortunate chevalier.
" It is possible that he expected some such dread-
ful catastrophe, for, after hearing Hengst's narrative (as
the latter afterwards told me), he only said, * Heaven's
will be done ! ' for some time refused to stir a step in the
matter, and then only by the solicitation of his friend,
was induced to write the letter which Maxime de Magny
received at our play-table.
"Whilst he was there, squandering the princess's
money, a police visit was paid to his apartments, and a
hundred proofs, not of his guilt with respect to the
robbery, but of his guilty connection with the princess,
were discovered there, — tokens of her giving, passion-
ate letters from her, copies of his own correspondence
to his young friends at Paris, — all of which the Police
Minister perused, and carefully put together under seal
for his highness. Prince Victor. I have no doubt he
perused them, for, on delivering them to the hereditary
prince, Geldern said that in obedience to his highnesses or-
ders, he had collected the chevalier's papers ; but he need
not say that, on his honor, he (Geldern) himself had never
examined the documents. His difference with Messieurs
de Magny was known ; he begged his highness to employ
any other official person in the judgment of the accusa-
tion brought against the young chevalier.
"All these things were going on while the chevalier
was at play. A run of luck — you had great luck in
those days. Monsieur de Balibari — was against him. He
stayed and lost his four thousand ducats. He received
his uncle's note, and, such was the infatuation of the
wretched gambler, that, on receipt of it, he went down
A Princess's Tragedy 219
to the courtyard, where the horse was in waiting, abso-
lutely took the money which the poor old gentleman had
placed in the saddle-holsters, brought it up stairs, played
it and lost it ; and when he issued from the room to fly,
it was too late : he was placed in arrest at the bottom of
my staircase, as you were upon entering your own home.
" Even when he came in under the charge of the sol-
diery sent to arrest him, the old general, who was waiting,
was overjoyed to see him, and flung himself into the lad's
arms, and embraced him : it was said, for the first time
in many years. * He is here, gentlemen,' he sobbed
out, — ' thank God he is not guilty of the robbery ! ' and
then sank back in a chair in a burst of emotion, painful,
it was said by those present, to witness on the part of a
man so brave, and known to be so cold and stern.
*' * Robbery ! ' said the young man. ' I swear before
Heaven I am guilty of none ! ' and a scene of almost
touching reconciliation passed between them, before the
unhappy young man was led from the guard-house into
the prison which he was destined never to quit.
" That night the duke looked over the papers which
Geldern had brought to him. It was at a very early stage
of the perusal, no doubt, that he gave orders for your
arrest ; for you were taken at midnight, Magny at ten
o'clock ; after which time the old Baron de Magny had
seen his highness, protesting of his grandson's innocence,
and the prince had received him most graciously and
kindly. His highness said he had no doubt the young
man was innocent ; his birth and his blood rendered such
a crime impossible ; but suspicion was too strong against
him : he was known to have been that day closeted with
the Jew; to have received a very large sum of money
which he squandered at play, and of which the Hebrew
had, doubtless, been the lender, — to have despatched
2 20 Greatest Short Stories
his servant after him, who inquired the hour of the Jew's
departure, lay in wait for him, and rifled him. Suspicion
was so strong against the chevaUer, that common justice
required his arrest ; and, meanwhile, until he cleared him-
self, he should be kept in not dishonorable durance, and
every regard had for his name, and the services of his
honorable grandfather. With this assurance, and with a
warm grasp of the hand, the prince left old General de
Magny that night ; and the veteran retired to rest, almost
consoled and confident in Maxime's eventual and imme-
diate release.
" But in the morning, before daybreak, the prince, who
had been reading papers all night, wildly called to the
page, who slept in the next room across the door, bade
him get horses, which were always kept in readiness in
the stables, and, flinging a parcel of letters into a box,
told the page to follow him on horseback with these.
The young man (Monsieur de Weissenborn) told this to
a young lady who was then of my household, and who is
now Madame de Weissenborn, and mother of a score
of children.
"The page described that never was such a change
seen as in his august master in the course of that single
night. His eyes were bloodshot, his face livid, his clothes
were hanging loose about him, and" he who had always
made his appearance on parade as precisely dressed as
any sergeant of his troops, might have been seen gallop-
ing through the lonely streets at early dawn without a
hat, his unpowdered hair streaming behind him like a
madman.
" The page, with the box of papers, clattered after his
master, — it was no easy task to follow him ; and they
rode from the palace to the town, and through it to the
general's quarter. The sentinels at the door were scared
A Princess's Tragedy 221
at the strange figure that rushed up to the general's gate,
and, not knowing him, crossed bayonets, and refused him
admission. * Fools,' said Weissenborn, * it is the prince ! *
And, jangling at the bell as if for an alarm of fire, the
door was at length opened by the porter, and his high-
ness ran up to the general's bedchamber, followed by the
page with the box.
" * Magny — Magny,' roared the prince, thundering at
the closed door, 'get up ! ' And to the queries of the
old man from within, answered, * It is I — Victor — the
prince ! — get up ! ' And presently the door was opened
by the general in his robe-de-chambre^ and the prince
entered. The page brought in the box, and was bidden
to wait without, which he did ; but there led from Mon-
sieur de Magny's bedroom into his ante-chamber two
doors, the great one which formed the entrance into his
room, and a smaller one which led, as the fashion is with
our houses abroad, into the closet which communicates
with the alcove where the bed is. The door of this was
found by M. de Weissenborn to be open, and the young
man was thus enabled to hear and see everything which
occurred within the apartment.
"The general, somewhat nervously, asked what was
the reason of so early a visit from his highness ; to which
the prince did not for a while reply, farther than by star-
ing at him rather wildly, and pacing up and down the
room.
" At last he said, * Here is the cause ! ' dashing his fist
on the box ; and, as he had forgotten to bring the key
with him, he went to the door for a moment, saying,
' Weissenborn perhaps has it ; ' but, seeing over the stove
one of the general's couteaux de chasse, he took it down,
and said, * That will do,' and fell to work to burst the
red trunk open with the blade of the forest-knife. The
222 Greatest Short Stories
point broke, and he gave an oath, but continued haggling
on with the broken blade, which was better suited to his
purpose than the long, pointed knife, and finally suc-
ceeded in wrenching open the lid of the chest.
" * What is the matter? ' said he, laughing. ' Here *s
the matter ; — read that ! — here 's more matter, read
that ! — here 's more — no, not that ; that 's somebody
else's picture — but here 's hers ! Do you know that,
Magny ? My wife's — the princess's ! Why did you
and your cursed race ever come out of France, to plant
your infernal wickedness wherever your feet fell, and to
ruin honest German homes? What have you and yours
ever had from my family but confidence and kindness?
We gave you a home when you had none, and here 's our
reward ! ' and he flung a parcel of papers down before
the old general, who saw the truth at once : — he had
known it long before, probably, and sunk down on his
chair, covering his face.
" The prince went on gesticulating, and shrieking al-
most. * If a man injured you so, Magny, before you
begot the father of that gambling, lying villain yonder,
you would have known how to revenge yourself. You
would have killed him ! Yes, would have killed him.
But who 's to help me to my revenge ? I 've no equal.
I can't meet that dog of a Frenchman"; — that pimp from
Versailles, and kill him, as if he had played the traitor
to one of his own degree.'
" * The blood of Maxime de Magny,' said the old
gentleman, proudly, ' is as good as that of any prince in
Christendom.'
" * Can I take it ? ' cried the prince : ' you know I
can't. I can't have the privilege of any other gentleman
of Europe. What am I to do ? Look here, Magny : I
was wild when I came here : I did n't know what to do.
A Princess's Tragedy 223
You 've served me for thirty years ; you Ve saved my life
twice : they are all knaves and harlots about my poor old
father here — no honest men or women — you are the
only one — you saved my life : tell me what am I to do ? '
Thus, from insulting Monsieur de Magny, the poor dis-
tracted prince fell to supplicating him ; and, at last, fairly
flung himself down, and burst out in an agony of tears.
" Old Magny, one of the most rigid and cold of men
on common occasions, when he saw this outbreak of pas-
sion on the prince's part, became, as my informant has
described to me, as much affected as his master. The old
man from being cold and high, suddenly fell, as it were,
into the whimpering querulousness of extreme old age.
He lost all sense of dignity : he went down on his knees,
and broke out into all sorts of wild, incoherent attempts
at consolation ; so much so, that Weissenborn said he
could not bear to look at the scene, and actually turned
away from the contemplation of it.
*' But, from what followed in a few days, we may guess
the results of the long interview. The prince, when he
came away from the conversation with his old servant,
forgot his fatal box of papers and sent the page back for
them. The general was on his knees praying in the
room when the young man entered, and only stirred and
looked round wildly as the other removed the packet.
The prince rode away to his hunting-lodge at three
leagues from X , and three days after that Maxime
de Magny died in prison ; having made a confession that
he was engaged in an attempt to rob the Jew, and that
he had made away with himself, ashamed of his dis-
honor.
" But it is not known that it was the general himself
who took his grandson poison : it was said even that he
shot him in the prison. This, however, was not the case.
224 Greatest Short Stories
General de Magny carried his grandson the draught
which was to carry him out of the world ; represented to
the wretched youth that his fate was inevitable ; that it
would be public and disgraceful unless he chose to an-
ticipate the punishment, and so left him. But it was
not of his own accord and not until he had used every
means of escape, as you shall hear, that the unfortunate
being's life was brought to an end.
" As for General de Magny, he quite fell into imbecil-
ity a short time after his nephew's death, and my honored
duke's demise. After his highness the prince married
the Princess Mary of F , as they were walking in the
English park together they once met old Magny riding
in the sun in the easy chair, in which he was carried
commonly abroad after his paralytic fits. * This is my
wife, Magny,' said the Prince, affectionately, taking the
veteran's hand : and he added, turning to his princess,
* General de Magny saved my life during the Seven Years'
War.'
" * What, you 've taken her back again? ' said the old
man. * I wish you 'd send me back my poor Maxima.'
He had quite forgotten the death of the poor princess
Olivia, and the prince, looking very dark indeed, passed
away.
" And now, " said Madame de Liliengarten, '* I have
only one more gloomy story to relate to you — the death
of the Princess Olivia. It is even more horrible than the
tale I have just told you." With which preface the old
lady resumed her narrative.
" The kind, weak princess's fate was hastened, if not
occasioned by the cowardice of Magny. He found
means to communicate with her from his prison, and her
highness, who was not in open disgrace yet (for the duke,
out of regard to the family, persisted in charging Magny
A Princess's Tragedy 225
with only robbery), made the most desperate efforts to
relieve him, and to bribe the jailers to effect his escape.
She was so wild that she lost all patience and prudence
in the conduct of any schemes she may have had for
Magny's liberation ; for her husband was inexorable, and
caused the chevalier's prison to be too strictly guarded for
escape to be possible. She offered the state jewels in
pawn to the court banker ; who of course was obliged
to decline the transaction. She fell down on her
knees, it is said, to Geldern, the Police Minister, and
offered him Heaven knows what as a bribe. Finally,
she came screaming to my poor dear duke, who, with his
age, diseases, and easy habits, was quite unfit for scenes of
so violent a nature ; and who, in consequence of the ex-
citement created in his august bosom by frantic violence
and grief, had a fit in which I very nigh lost him. That his
dear life was brought to an untimely end by these trans-
actions I have not the slightest doubt ; for the Strasbourg
pie, of which they said he died, never, I am sure, could
have injured him, but for the injury which his dear gentle
heart received from the unusual occurrences in which he
was forced to take a share.
" All her highness's movements were carefully, though
not ostensibly, watched by her husband. Prince Victor ;
who waiting upon his august father, sternly signified to
him that if his highness {tny duke) should dare to aid
the princess in her efforts to release Magny, he. Prince
Victor, would publicly accuse the princess and her
paramour of high treason, and take measures with the
Diet for removing his father from the throne, as incapac-
itated to reign. Hence interposition on our part was
vain, and Magny was left to his fate.
** It came, as you are aware, very suddenly. Gel-
dern, Police Minister, Hengst, Master of the Horse, and
IS
226 Greatest Short Stories
the Colonel of the Prince's guard, waited upon the
young man in his prison two days after his grandfather
had visited him there and left behind him the phial of
poison which the criminal had not the courage to use.
And Geldern signified to the young man that unless he
took of his own accord the laurel-water provided by the
elder Magny, more violent means of death would be
instantly employed upon him, and that a file of grena-
diers was in waiting in the courtyard to despatch him.
Seeing this, Magny, with the most dreadful self-abase-
ment, after dragging himself round the room on his
knees from one officer to another, weeping and scream-
ing with terror, at last desperately drank off the potion,
and was a corpse in a few minutes. Thus ended this
wretched young man.
" His death was made public in the * Court Gazette '
two days after, the paragraph stating that Monsieur de
M , struck with remorse for having attempted the
murder of the Jew, had put himself to death by poison
in prison ; and a warning was added to all young noble-
men of the duchy to avoid the dreadful sin of gambling,
which had been the cause of the young man's ruin, and
had brought upon the gray hairs of one of the noblest
and most honorable of the servants of the duke irre-
trievable sorrow.
" The funeral was conducted with decent privacy, the
General de Magny attending it. The carriage of the two
dukes and all the first people of the court made their
calls upon the general afterwards. He attended parade
as usual the next day on the Arsenal-Place, and Duke
Victor, who had been inspecting the building, came out
of it leaning on the brave old warrior's arm. He was
particularly gracious to the old man, and told his
officers the oft- repeated story how at Rosbach, when the
A Princess's Tragedy 227
X contingent served with the troops of the unlucky
Soubise, the general had thrown himself in the way of a
French dragoon who was pressing hard upon his high-
ness in the rout, had received the blow intended for his
master, and killed the assailant. And he alluded to the
family motto of * Magny sans tache,' and said * It had
been always so with his gallant friend and tutor in
arms.' This speech affected all present very much ;
with the exception of the old general, who only bowed
and did not speak : but when he went home he was
heard muttering ' Magny sans tache, Magny sans tache ! '
and was attacked with paralysis that night, from which
he never more than partially recovered.
"The news of Maxime's death had somehow been
kept from the princess until now: a 'Gazette' even
being printed without the paragraph containing the
account of his suicide ; but it was at length, I know not
how, made known to her. And when she heard it, her
ladies tell me, she screamed and fell, as if struck dead ;
then sat up wildly and raved like a madwoman, and was
then carried to her bed, where her physician attended
her, and where she lay of a brain-fever. All this while
the prince used to send to make inquiries concerning
her; and from his giving orders that his Castle of
Schlangenfels should be prepared and furnished, I make
no doubt it was his intention to send her into confine-
ment thither : as had been done with the unhappy sister
of his Britannic Majesty at Zell.
"She sent repeatedly to demand an interview with
his highness ; which the latter declined, saying that he
would communicate with her highness when her health
was sufficiently recovered. To one of her passionate
letters he sent back for reply a packet, which, when
opened, was found to contain the emerald that had
228 Greatest Short Stories
been the cause round which all this dark intrigue
moved.
" Her highness at this time became quite frantic ;
vowed in the presence of all her ladies that one lock of
her darling Maxime's hair was more precious to her
than all the jewels in the world ; rang for her carriage,
and said she would go and kiss his tomb ; proclaimed
the murdered martyr's innocence, and called down the
punishment of Heaven, the wrath of her family, upon his
assassin. The prince, on hearing these speeches (they
were all, of course, regularly brought to him), is said to
have given one of his dreadful looks (which I remem-
ber now), and to have said, *This cannot last much
longer.'
" All that day and the next the Princess Olivia passed
in dictating the most passionate letters to the prince her
father, to the Kings of France, Naples, and Spain, her
kinsmen, and to all other branches of her family, calling
upon them in the most incoherent terms to protect her
against the butcher and assassin her husband, assailing
his person in the maddest terms of reproach, and at the
same time confessing her love for the murdered Magny.
It was in vain that those ladies who were faithful to her
pointed out to her the inutility of these letters, the
dangerous folly of the confessions which they made;
she insisted upon writing them, and used to give them
to her second robe-woman, a Frenchwoman (her high-
ness always affectioned persons of that nation) who had
the key of her cassette, and carried every one of these
epistles to Geldern.
*« With the exception that no public receptions were
held, the ceremony of the princess's establishment went
on as before. Her ladies were allowed to wait upon her
and perform their usual duties about her person. The
A Princess's Tragedy 229
only men admitted were, however, her servants, her
physician and chaplain ; and one day when she wished
to go into the garden, a heyduc, who kept the door,
intimated to her highness that the prince's orders were
that she should keep her apartments.
"They abut, as you remember, upon the landing of
the marble staircase of Schloss X ; the entrance
to Prince Victor's suite of rooms being opposite the
princess's on the same landing. This space is large,
filled with sofas and benches, and the gentlemen and
officers who waited upon the duke used to make a sort
of ante-chamber of the landing-place, and pay their
court to his highness there, as he passed out, at eleven
o'clock, to parade. At such a time, the heyducs within
the princess's suite of rooms used to turn out with their
halberts and present to Prince Victor — the same cere-
mony being performed on his own side, when pages
came out and announced the approach of his highness.
The pages used to come out and say, 'The prince,
gentlemen ! ' and the drums beat in the hall, and the
gentlemen rose, who were waiting on the benches that
ran along the balustrade.
"As if fate impelled her to her death, one day the
princess, as her guards turned out, and she was aware
that the prince was standing, as was his wont, on the
landing, conversing with his gentlemen (in the old days
he used to cross to the princess's apartment and kiss
her hand) — the princess, who had been anxious all the
morning, complaining of heat, insisting that all the doors
of the apartments should be left open ; and giving tokens
of an insanity which I think was now evident, rushed
wildly at the doors when the guards passed out, flung
them open, and before a word could be said, or her
ladies could follow her, was in presence of Duke Victor,
230 Greatest Short Stories
who was talking as usual on the landing : placing herself
between him and the stair, she began apostrophizing him
with frantic vehemence : —
" ' Take notice, gentlemen ! ' she screamed out, * that
this man is a murderer and a liar ; that he lays plots for
honorable gentlemen, and kills them in prison ! Take
notice, that I too am in prison, and fear the same fate :
the same butcher who killed Maxime de Magny, may,
any night, put the knife to my throat. I appeal to you,
and to all the kings of Europe, my royal kinsmen. I de-
mand to be set free from this tyrant and villain, this liar
and traitor ! I adjure you all, as gentlemen of honor, to
carry these letters to my relatives, and say from whom
you had them ! ' and with this the unhappy lady began
scattering letters about the astonished crowd.
" * Let no man stoop ! ' cried the prince, in a voice of
thunder. ' Madame de Gleim, you should have watched
your patient better. Call the princess's physicians : her
highness's brain is affected. Gentlemen, have the good-
ness to retire.' And the prince stood on the landing as
the gentlemen went down the stairs, saying fiercely to
the guard, 'Soldier, if she moves, strike with your
halbert ! ' on which the man brought the point of his
weapon to the princess's breast ; and the lady, frightened,
shrank back and reentered her apartments. ' Now,
Monsieur de Weissenborn,' said the prince, * pick up all
those papers ; ' and the prince went into his own apart-
ments, preceded by his pages, and never quitted them
until he had seen every one of the papers burned.
'' The next day the ' Court Gazette ' contained a
bulletin signed by the three physicians, stating that ' Her
highness the hereditary princess labored under inflam-
mation of the brain, and had passed a restless and dis-
turbed night.' Similar notices were issued day after day.
A Princess's Tragedy 231
The services of all her ladies, except two, were dispensed
with. Guards were placed within and without her doors ;
her windows were secured, so that escape from them
was impossible : and you know what took place ten days
after. The church-bells were ringing all night, and the
prayers of the faithful asked for a person in extremis.
A * Gazette ' appeared in the morning, edged with black,
and stating that the high and mighty Princess Olivia
Maria Ferdinanda, consort of His Serene Highness
Victor Louis Emanuel, Hereditary Prince of X , had
died in the evening of the 24th of January, 1769.
" But do you know how she died, sir? That, too, is a
mystery. Weissenborn, the page, was concerned in
this dark tragedy ; and the secret was so dreadful, that
never, believe me, till Prince Victor's death did I reveal
it.
" After the fatal esclandre which the princess had
made, the prince sent for Weissenborn, and binding him
by the -most solemn adjuration to secrecy (he only
broke it to his wife many years after : indeed there is no
secret in the world that women cannot know if they
will), despatched him on the following mysterious
commission.
" * There lives,' said his highness, ' on the Kehl side
of the river, opposite to Strasbourg, a man whose
residence you will easily find out from his name, which
is Monsieur de Strasbourg. You will make your in-
quiries concerning him quietly, and without occasioning
any remark ; perhaps you had better go into Strasbourg
for the purpose, where the person is quite well known.
You will take with you any comrade on whom you can
perfectly rely : the lives of both, remember, depend on
your secrecy. You will find out some period when
Monsieur de Strasbourg is alone, or only in company of
232 Greatest Short Stories
the domestic who lives with him (I myself visited the
man by accident on my return from Paris five years
since, and hence am induced to send for him now, in
my present emergency). You will have your carriage
waiting at his door at night ; and you and your comrade^
will enter his house masked ; and present him with a
purse of a hundred louis ; promising him double that
sum on his return from his expedition. If he refuse,
you must use force and bring him ; menacing him with
instant death should he decHne to follow you. You will
place him in the carriage with the blinds drawn, one or
other of you never losing sight of him the whole way,
and threatening him with death if he discover himself or
cry out. You will lodge him in the old Tower here,
where a room shall be prepared for him ; and his work
being done, you will restore him to his home in the
same speed and secrecy with which you brought him
from it.'
" Such were the mysterious orders Prince Victor gave
his page ; and Weissenborn, selecting for his comrade in
the expedition Lieutenant Bartenstein, set out on his
strange journey.
" All this while the palace was hushed, as if in mourn-
ing ; the bulletins in the * Court Gazette ' appeared^
announcing the continuance of the princess's malady;
and though she had but few attendants, strange and
circumstantial stories were told regarding the progress
of her complaint. She was quite wild. She had tried
to kill herself. She had fancied herself to be I don't
know how many different characters. Expresses were
sent to her family informing them of her state, and
couriers despatched publicly to Vienna and Paris to pro-
cure the attendance of physicians skilled in treating
diseases of the brain. That pretended anxiety was all a
A Princess's Tragedy 233
feint : it was never intended that the princess should
recover.
" The day on which Weissenborn and Bartenstein
returned from their expedition, it was announced that
her highness the princess was much worse ; that night
the report through the town was that she was at the
agony : and that night the unfortunate creature was
endeavoring to make her escape.
" She had unUmited confidence in the French cham-
ber-woman who attended her, and between her and this
woman the plan of escape was arranged. The princess
took her jewels in a casket; a private door, opening
from one of her rooms and leading into the outer gate,
it was said, of the palace, was discovered for her : and a
letter was brought to her, purporting to be from the
duke her father-in-law, and stating that a carriage and
horses had been provided, and would take her to B :
the territory where she might communicate with her
family and be safe.
" The unhappy lady, confiding in her guardian, set
out on the expedition. The passages wound through
the walls of the modern part of the palace and abutted
in effect at the old Owl Tower, as it was called, on the
outer wall : the tower was pulled down afterwards, and
for good reason.
"At a certain place the candle, which the chamber-
woman was carrying, went out ; and the princess would
have screamed with terror, but her hand was seized, and
a voice cried, * Hush ! ' The next minute a man in a
mask (it was the duke himself) rushed forward, gagged
her with a handkerchief, her hands and legs were bound,
and she was carried swooning with terror into a vaulted,
room, where she was placed by a person there waiting,
and tied in an arm-chair. The same mask who had
234 Greatest Short Stories
gagged her, came and bared her neck and said, * It had
best be done now she has fainted.'
" Perhaps it would have been as well ; for though she
recovered from her swoon, and her confessor, who was
present, came forward and endeavored to prepare her
for the awful deed which was about to be done upon
her, and for the state into which she was about to enter,
when she came to herself it was only to scream like a
maniac, to curse the duke as a butcher and tyrant, and
to call upon Magny, her dear Magny.
** At this the duke said, quite calmly, * May God have
mercy on her sinful soul ! ' He, the confessor, and
Geldern, who were present, went down on their knees ;
and, as his highness dropped his handkerchief, Weissen-
born fell down in a fainting fit; while Monsieur de
Strasbourg^ taking the back hair in his hand, separated
the shrieking head of Olivia from the miserable, sinful
body. May Heaven have mercy upon her soul ! "
This was the story told by Madame de Liliengarten
VIII
THE GOLD-BUG
THE GOLD-BUG
By EDGAR ALLAN POE
INTRODUCTORY
PLOT CONSTRUCTION
IT would be impossible to say that any of the
short stories so far examined show the slight-
est progress in the special art of short story
construction. In ** Rip Van Winkle " we found
perfection in descriptive character-drawing ; in " A
Passion in the Desert," atmosphere ; in " A Child's
Dream of a Star," sentiment ; in " A Princess's
Tragedy," the power of suggestiveness inherent in
polished restraint: but it would be folly to pre-
tend that any one of these stories is even equal
in interest, as a story, to the two first presented,
which were written more than six hundred years
ago.
In Poe, however, we find a master of the short
story who towers above even the anonymous
author of the '* Arabian Nights," and above Boc-
caccio. " The Gold-Bug " is as good a story as
** Aladdin," and it wears better because it is so
much more finely wrought. It is just as romantic
as the " Arabian Nights," yet involves no assump-
tion of the obviously absurd. Moreover, Poe in-
238 Greatest Short Stories
vented it — created it, — while all the stories we
have yet examined are based on plots (so far as
they had plots of any value) which came to the
authors ready made. The author was only the
recorder or the '' dresser up." But Poe made his
story, and he made a good one; and since he
showed the world how to do it, the best stories
have been invented, not discovered.
Not only did Poe consciously invent the stories
he wrote, but in his " Philosophy of Composition"
he told us something of the way he went about
doing it. Of course not all that he says there can
be taken seriously, but much may be ; and what he
says of the construction of *' The Raven " applies
equally well, if not better, to the construction of a
short story.
The first thing to be noted is that the writer
starts with his conclusion. If he is to write a
detective story, he begins in his mind with the
solution of the mystery, and from that works back
to the mystery. Once the plot is worked out, the
author leads the reader from the mystery to the
solution, and since he has so arranged it, every-
thing works out to a nicety, to the wonder and
amazement of the reader, and to the satisfaction
of the author.
Second, in developing the details of a story,
every act must have its adequate motive, and
every fact its just reason. It is clear, therefore,
that the story-writer must have a far-reaching
knowledge of the springs of human action and
The Gold- Bug 239
the secrets of human life, for in his story he plays
the " god in the machine," and unless he does his
work well, the easy corhparison that may be made
with the real thing is so much to his disadvantage
that he is compelled to retire from the field in
disgrace.
The problem in *'The Gold-Bug" is purely in-
tellectual. Sentiment and descriptive character-
drawing are absent, and we detect no special
atmosphere. Poe concentrated his attention on
the problem of constructing his story; but he
shows that he understood something of the larger
art, for in another class of his tales he created per-
fectly the atmosphere of horror, and did it so well
that no one since has surpassed him. He was also
a poet, and his prose and his poetry find them-
selves curiously linked in his work. We have al-
ready noted that he was a critic as well as a poet
and a story writer, and told us much of the phil-
osophy of his literary discoveries.
Poe was not accepted by his contemporaries in
America, partly because he was constitutionally
unfortunate and was unjustly maligned even after
his death, partly because the discoveries of genius
cannot be fully comprehended by the generation
which gives them birth,
Poe's stories were translated into excellent
French by Charles Baudelaire, an intense ad-
mirer of the American inventor; and in these
translations the stories at once produced a marked
efifect on the French art, for it was much better
240 Greatest Short Stories
prepared for Poe's discoveries than the English.
A crop of conscious short story artists imme-
diately sprung up, who absorbed and greatly im-
proved Poe's principles. These French writers in
turn influenced later English and American writers,
who in this roundabout way came to know and
appreciate Poe. So, although Poe's own stories
are not sufficiently varied and profound to be
great literature in themselves, they are the crude-
models of nearly all the best that was to follow,
and in justice we must consider Poe the father
of the modern art of short story writing.
THE GOLD-BUG
What ho I what ho ! this fellow is dancing mad t
He hath been bitten by the Tarantula.
All in the Wrong.
MANY years ago I contracted an intimacy with a
Mr. William Legrand. He was of an ancient
Huguenot family, and had once been wealthy ; but a
series of misfortunes had reduced him to want. To
avoid the mortification consequent upon his disasters, he
left New Orleans, the city of his forefathers, and took
up his residence at Sullivan's Island, near Charleston,
South Carolina.
This island is a very singular one. It consists of Httle
else than the sea-sand, and is about three miles long.
Its breadth at no point exceeds a quarter of a mile. It
is separated from the mainland by a scarcely perceptible
creek oozing its way through a wilderness of reeds and
slime, a favorite resort of the marsh-hen. The vegeta-
The Gold-Bug 241
tion, as might be supposed, is scant, or at least dwarfish.
No trees of any magnitude are to be seen. Near the
western extremity, where Fort Moultrie stands, and
where are some miserable frame buildings, tenanted,
during summer, by the fugitives from Charleston dust
and fever, may be found, indeed, the bristly palmetto ;
but the whole island, with the exception of this western
point, and a line of hard, white beach on the sea-coast,
is covered with a dense undergrowth of the sweet myrtle,
so much prized by the horticulturists of England. The
shrub here often attains the height of fifteen or twenty
feet, and forms an almost impenetrable coppice, burden-
ing the air with its fragrance.
In the inmost recesses of this coppice, not far from
the eastern or more remote end of the island, Legrand
had built himself a small hut, which he occupied when I
first, by mere accident, made his acquaintance. This
soon ripened into friendship, — for there was much in
the recluse to excite interest and esteem. 1 found him
well educated, with unusual powers of mind, but infected
with misanthropy, and subject to perverse moods of alter-
nate enthusiasm and melancholy. He had with him
many books, but rarely employed them. His chief
amusements were gunning and fishing, or sauntering
along the beach and through the myrtles, in quest of
shells or entomological specimens ; — his collection of
the latter might have been envied by a Swammerdam.
In these excursions he was usually accompanied by an
old negro, called Jupiter, who had been manumitted
before the reverses of the family, but who could be
induced, neither by threats nor by promises, to abandon
what he considered his right of attendance upon the
footsteps of his young " Massa Will." It is not improba-
ble that the relatives of Legrand, conceiving him to be
16
242 Greatest Short Stories
somewhat unsettled in intellect, had contrived to instil
this obstinacy into Jupiter, with a view to the supervision
and guardianship of the wanderer.
The winters in the latitude of Sullivan's Island are
seldom very severe, and in the fall of the year it is a rare
event indeed when a fire is considered necessary. About
the middle of October, 18 — , there occurred, however,
a day of remarkable chilliness. Just before sunset I
scrambled my way through the evergreens to the hut of
my friend, whom I had not visited for several weeks, —
my residence being, at that time, in Charleston, a dis-
tance of nine miles from the island, while the facilities
of passage and re-passage were very far behind those of
the present day. Upon reaching the hut I rapped, as
was my custom, and getting no reply, sought for the key
where I knew it was secreted, unlocked the door, and
went in. A fine fire was blazing upon the hearth. It
was a novelty, and by no means an ungrateful one. I
threw off an overcoat, took an arm-chair by the crackling
logs, and awaited patiently the arrival of my hosts.
Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cor-
dial welcome. Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, bustled
about to prepare some marsh-hens for supper. Legrand
was in one of his fits — how else shall I term them ? —
of enthusiasm. He had found" an unknown bivalve,
forming a new genus, and, more than this, he had hunted
down and secured, with Jupiter's assistance, a scarabceus
which he believed to be totally new, but in respect to
which he wished to have my opinion on the morrow.
** And why not to-night? " I asked, rubbing my hands
over the blaze, and wishing the whole tribe of scarabcei
at the devil.
" Ah, if I had only known you were here ! " said
Legrand, " but it 's so long since I saw you ; and how
The Gold-Bug 243
could I foresee that you would pay me a visit this very
night of all others ? As I was coming home t met Lieu-
tenant G , from the fort, and, very foolishly, I lent
him the bug ; so it will be impossible for you to see it
until the morning. Stay here to-night, and I will send
Jup down for it at sunrise. It is the loveliest thing in
creation ! "
"What? — sunrise?"
" Nonsense ! no ! — the bug. It is of a brilliant gold
color, — about the size of a large hickory-nut, — with two
jet-black spots near one extremity of the back, and an-
other, somewhat longer, at the other. The antennm
are "
" Dey ain't no tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin'
on you," here interrupted Jupiter; "de bug is a goole-
bug, solid, ebery bit of him, inside and all, sep him wing,
— neber feel half so hebby a bug in my life."
" Well, suppose it is, Jup," replied Legrand, some-
what more earnestly, it seemed to me, than the case
demanded, " is that any reason for your letting the birds
burn ? The color " — here he turned to me — " is really
almost enough to warrant Jupiter's idea. You never saw
a more brilliant metaUic lustre than the scales emit, —
but of this you cannot judge till to-morrow. In the
meantime I can give you some idea of the shape." Say-
ing this, he seated himself at a small table, on which
were a pen and ink, but no paper. He looked for some
in a drawer, but found none.
" Never mind," said he at length, " this will answer " ;
and he drew from his waistcoat- pocket a scrap of what I
took to be very dirty foolscap, and made upon it a rough
drawing with the pen. While he did this, I retained my
seat by the fire, for I was still chilly. When the design
was complete, he handed it to me without rising. As
244 Greatest Short Stories
I received it, a loud growl was heard, succeeded by
a scratching at the door. Jupiter opened it, and a
large Newfoundland, belonging to Legrand, rushed in,
leaped upon my shoulders, and loaded me with ca-
resses j for I had shown him much attention during
previous visits. When his gambols were over, I
looked at the paper, and, to speak the truth, found
myself not a little puzzled at what my friend had
depicted.
" Well ! " I said, after contemplating it for some
minutes, " this is a strange scarabceus, I must confess :
new to me : never saw anything like it before, — unless
it was a skull, or a death's-head, — which it more nearly
resembles than anything else that has come under my
observation."
" A death's-head ! " echoed Legrand — " Oh — yes —
well, it has something of that appearance upon paper,
no doubt. The two upper black spots look like eyes,
eh? and the longer one at the bottom like a mouth, —
and then the shape of the whole is oval."
" Perhaps so," said I ; " but, Legrand, I fear you are
no artist. I must wait until I see the beetle itself, if I
am to form any idea of its personal appearance."
" Well, I don't know," said he, a little nettled, " I
draw tolerably, — should do it at leasl:, — have had good
masters, and flatter myself that I am not quite a block-
head."
" But, my dear fellow, you are joking, then," said I ;
" this is a very passable skull, — indeed, I may say that
it \s diVtiy excellent s\iM\\y according to the vulgar notions
about such specimens of physiology, — and your scara-
bceus must be the queerest scarabceus in the world if
it resembles it. Why, we may get up a very thrilling
bit of superstition upon this hint. I presume you will
The Gold-Bug 245
call the bug scarabceus caput hominis^ or something of
that kind, — there are many similar titles in the Natural
Histories. But where are the antenncB you spoke of? "
"The antennce!'^ said Legrand, who seemed to be
getting unaccountably warm upon the subject ; " I am
sure you must see the anienncB. I made them as dis-
tinct as they are in the original insect, and I presume
that is sufficient."
*' Well, well," I said, " perhaps you have, — still I
don't see them " \ and I handed him the paper without
additional remark, not wishing to ruffle his temper. But
I was much surprised at the turn affairs had taken ; his
ill-humor puzzled me ; and, as for the drawing of the
beetle, there were positively no antennce visible, and the
whole did bear a very close resemblance to the ordinary
cuts of a death's-head.
He received the paper very peevishly, and was about
to crumple it, apparently to throw it in the fire, when a
casual glance at the design seemed suddenly to rivet his
attention. In an instant his face grew violently red, - —
in another as excessively pale. For some minutes, he
continued to scrutinize the drawing minutely where he
sat. At length he arose, took a candle from the table,
and proceeded to seat himself upon a sea-chest in the
farthest corner of the room. Here again he made an
anxious examination of the paper, turning it in all di-
rections. He said nothing, however, and his conduct
greatly astonished me ; yet I thought it prudent not to
exacerbate the growing moodiness of his temper by any
comment. Presently he took from his coat-pocket a
wallet, placed the paper carefully in it, and deposited
both in a writing-desk, which he locked. He now grew
more composed in his demeanor ; but his original air of
enthusiasm had quite disappeared. Yet he seemed not
246 Greatest Short Stories
so much sulky as abstracted. As the evening wore away
he became more and more absorbed in re very, from
which no salHes of mine could arouse him. It had been
my intention to pass the night at the hut, as I had fre-
quently done before, but seeing my host in this mood, I
deemed it proper to take leave. He did not press me to
remain, but, as I departed, be shook my hand with even
more than his usual cordiality.
It was about a month after this (and during the
interval I had seen nothing of Legrand) when I received
a visit, at Charleston, from his man, Jupiter. I had
never seen the good old negro look so dispirited, and
I feared that some serious disaster had befallen my
friend.
" Well, Jup," said I, " what is the matter now? — how
is your master? "
" Why, to speak de troof, massa, him not so berry well
as mought be."
" Not well ! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does he
complain of ? "
" Dar ! dat 's it ! — him neber 'plain of notin, — but
him berry sick for all dat."
" Very sick, Jupiter! — why didn't you say so at
once? Is he confined to bed? "
" No, dat he ain't ! — he ain't 'fin'd nowhar, — dat 's
just whar de shoe pinch, — my mmd is got to be berry
hebby 'bout poor Massa Will."
" Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you
are talking about. You say your master is sick. Has n't
he told you what ails him? "
*' Why, massa, 't ain't worf while for to git mad about
de matter, — Massa Will say noffin at all ain't de matter
wid him, — but den what make him go about looking dis
here way, wid he head down and he soldiers up, and as
The Gold-Bug 247
white as a gose? And den he keep a syphon all de
time "
*' Keeps a what, Jupiter ? "
*' Keeps a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate, — de
queerest figgurs I ebber did see. I 's gittin' to be
skeered, I tell you. Hab for to keep mighty tight eye
'pon him 'noovers. T' odder day he gib me slip 'fore de
sun up and was gone de whole ob de blessed day. I
had a big stick ready cut for to gib him deuced good
beating when he did come, — but I 's sich a fool dat I
had n't de heart arter all, — he look so berry poorly."
"Eh? — what? — ah, yes ! — upon the whole I think
you had better not be too severe with the poor fellow,
— don't flog him, Jupiter, — he can't very well stand it,
— but can you form no idea of what has occasioned
this illness, or rather this change of conduct? Has any
thing unpleasant happened since I saw you?"
" No, massa, dey ain't bin noffin onpleasant since den,
— 't was fore den, I 'm feared, — 't was de berry day
you was dare."
** How? what do you mean? "
*'Why, massa, I mean de bug — dare now."
"The what?"
" De bug, — I 'm berry sartain dat Massa Will bin
bit somewhere 'bout de head by dat goole-bug."
" And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a
supposition?"
" Claws enuff, massa, and mouff too. I nebber did
see sich a deuced bug, — he kick and he bite ebery
ting what cum near him. Massa Will cotch him fuss,
but had for to let him go gin mighty quick, I tell you
— den was de time he must ha' got de bite. I did n't
like de look ob de bug mouff, myself, nohow, so
I would n't take hold ob him wid my finger, but I
548 Greatest Short Stories
cotch him wid a piece ob paper dat I found. I rap
him up in de paper and stuff piece ob it in he mouff, —
dat was de way."
" And you think, then, that your master was really
bitten by the beetle, and that the bite made him sick?"
" I don't tink noffin about it, — I nose it. What
make him dream 'bout de goole so much, if 't ain't cause
he bit by de goole-bug? I 's heerd 'bout dem goole-
bugs 'fore dis."
** But how do you know he dreams about gold ? "
" How I know ? why, cause he talk about it in he sleep,
— dat 's how I nose."
" Well, Jup, perhaps you are right ; but to what fortu-
nate circumstance am I to attribute the honor of a visit
from you to-day ? "
" What de matter, massa?"
" Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand ? "
" No, massa, I bring dis here pissel " ; and here
Jupiter handed me a note which ran thus :
My Dear : Why have I not seen you for so long a
time ? I hope you have not been so foolish as to take
offence at any little brusquerie of mine ; but no, that is im-
probable.
Since I saw you I have had great" cause for anxiety.
I have something to tell you, yet scarcely know how to tell
it, or whether I should tell it at all.
I have not been quite well for some days past, and poor
old Jup annoys me, almost beyond endurance, by his well-
meant attentions. Would you believe it? — he had pre-
pared a huge stick, the other day, with which to chastise me
for giving him the slip, and spending the day, solus, among
the hills on the mainland. I verily believe that my ill looks
alone saved me a flogging.
I have made no addition to my cabinet since we met.
If you can in any way make it convenient, come over with
The Gold- Bug 249
Jupiter. Do come. I wish to see you to-night^ upon busi-
ness of importance. I assure you that it is of the highest
importance. Ever yours,
William Legrand.
There was something in the tone of this note which
gave me great uneasiness. Its whole style differed ma-
terially from that of Legrand. What could he be dream-
ing of ? What new crotchet possessed his excitable
brain? What " business of the highest importance "
could he possibly have to transact? Jupiter's account
of him boded no good. I dreaded lest the continued
pressure of misfortune had, at length, fairly unsettled
the reason of my friend. Without a moment's hesitation,
therefore, I prepared to accompany the negro.
Upon reaching the wharf, I noticed a scythe and three
spades, all apparently new, lying in the bottom of the
boat in which we were to embark.
" What is the meaning of all this Jup ? " I inquired.
" Him syfe, massa, and spade."
'* Very true ; but what are they doing here ? "
" Him de syfe and de spade what Massa Will sis 'pon
my buying for him in de town, and de debbil's own lot
of money I had to gib for 'em."
" But what, in the name of all that is mysterious, is
your * Massa Will ' going to do with scythes and spades? "
" Dat 's more dan / know, and debbil take me if I
don't b'lieve 't is more dan he know too. But it 's all
cum ob de bug.'*
Finding that no satisfaction was to be obtained of
Jupiter, whose whole intellect seemed to be absorbed
by " de bug," I now stepped into the boat and made
sail. With a fair and strong breeze we soon ran into the
little cove to the northward of Fort Moultrie, and a walk
of some two miles brought us to the hut. It was about
250 Greatest Short Stories
three in the afternoon when we arrived. Legrand had
been awaiting us in eager expectation. He grasped my
hand with a nervous empressement which alarmed me
and strengthened the suspicions already entertained.
His countenance was pale even to ghastliness, and his
deep-set eyes glared with unnatural lustre. After some
inquiries respecting his health, I asked him, not knowing
what better to say, if he had yet obtained the scarabceus
from Lieutenant G .
" Oh, yes," he replied, coloring violently, '* I got it
from him the next morning. Nothing should tempt me
to part with that scarabceus. Do you know that Jupiter
is quite right about it?"
*' In what way?" I asked, with a sad foreboding at
heart.
" In supposing it to be a bug of real gold.^^ He said
this with an air of profound seriousness, and I felt inex-
pressibly shocked.
" This bug is to make my fortune," he continued,
with a triumphant smile, ** to reinstate me in my family
possessions. Is it any wonder, then, that I prize it?
Since Fortune has thought fit to bestow it upon me, I
have only to use it properly and I shall arrive at the
gold of which it is the index. Jupiter, bring me that
scarabceus! "
" What ! de bug, massa ? I'd rudder not go fer trub-
ble dat bug, — you mus' git him for your own self."
Hereupon Legrand arose, with a grave and stately air,
and brought me the beetle from a glass case in which it
was enclosed. It was a beautiful scarabceus^ and, at that
time, unknown to naturalists, — of course a great prize
in a scientific point of view. There were two round
black spots near one extremity of the back, and a long
one near the other. The scales were exceedingly hard
The Gold-Bug 251
and glossy, with all the appearance of burnished gold.
The weight of the insect was very remarkable, and, tak-
ing all things into consideration, I could hardly blame
Jupiter for his opinion respecting it ; but what to make
of Legrand's concordance with that opinion I could not
for the life of me tell.
** I sent for you," said he, in a grandiloquent tone,
when I had completed my examination of the beetle, —
" I sent for you, that I might have your counsel and
assistance in furthering the views of Fate and of the
bug "
" My dear Legrand," I cried, interrupting him, " you
are certainly unwell, and had better use some little pre-
cautions. You shall go to bed, and I will remain with
you a few days, until you get over this. You are fever-
ish and "
" Feel my pulse," said he.
I felt it, and, to say the truth, found not the slightest
indication of fever.
" But you may be ill and yet have no fever. Allow
me this once to prescribe for you. In the first place, go
to bed. In the next "
*' You are mistaken," he interposed ; " I am as well
as I can expect to be under the excitement which I suf-
fer. If you really wish me well, you will relieve this
excitement."
" And how is this to be done? "
** Very easily. Jupiter and myself are going upon an
expedition into the hills, upon the mainland, and in this
expedition we shall need the aid of some person in whom
we can confide. You are the only one we can trust.
Whether we succeed or fail, the excitement which you
now perceive in me will be equally allayed."
" I am anxious to oblige you in any way," I replied ;
252 Greatest Short Stories
" but do jou mean to say that this infernal beetle has any
connection with your expedition into the hills? "
** It has."
" Then, Legrand, I can become a party to no such
absurd proceeding."
" I am sorry — very sorry, — for we shall have to try
it by ourselves."
" Try it by yourselves ! The man is surely mad ! —
but stay ! — how long do you propose to be absent? "
** Probably all night. We shall start immediately, and
be back, at all events, by sunrise."
" And will you promise.rne, upon your honor, that when
this freak of y ours is over, and the bug business (good
God !) settled to ^louT satisfaction, you will then return
home and follow my advice implicitly, as that of your_
physician?"
" Yes ; ^Ij)romise ; and now let us be off, for we have
no time to lose."
With a heavy heart I accompanied my friend. We
started about four o'clock, — Legrand, Jupiter, the
dog, and myself. Jupiter had with him the scythe and
spades, the whole of which he insisted upon carrying, —
more through fear, it seemed to me, of trusting either of
the implements within reach of his ^master, than from
any excess of industry or complaisance. His demeanor
was dogged in the extreme, and " dat deuced bug " were
the sole words which escaped his lips during the journey.
For my own part, I had charge of a couple of dark-lan-
terns, while Legrand contented himself with the scara-
bceus, which he carried attached to the end of a bit of
whipcord ; twirling it too and fro, with the air of a con-
jurer, as he went. When I observed this last plain evi-
dence of my friend's aberration of mind, I could scarcely
refrain from tears. I thought it best, however, to humor
The Gold-Bug 253
his fancy, at least for the present, or until I could adopt
some more energetic measures with a chance of success.
In the meantime I endeavored, but all in vain, to sound
him in regard to the object of the expedition. Having
succeeded in inducing me to accompany him, he seemed
unwilling to hold conversation upon any topic of minor
importance, and to ^11 my questions vouchsafed no other
reply than " We shall see ! "
We crossed the creek at the head of the island by
means of a skiff, and, ascending the high grounds on the
shore of the mainland, proceeded in a northwesterly
direction, through a tract of country excessively wild and
desolate, where no trace of a human footstep was to be
seen. Legran(i led the way with decision, pausing only
for an instant, here and there, to consult what appeared
to be certain landmarks of his own contrivance upon a
former occasion.
In this manner we journeyed for about two hours, and
the sun was just setting when we entered a region infi-
nitely more dreary than any yet seen. It was a species
of table-land, near the summit of an almost inaccessible
hill, densely wooded from base to pinnacle, and inter-
spersed with huge crags that appeared to he loosely upon
the soil, and in many cases were prevented from precipi-
tating themselves into the valleys below, merely by the
support of the trees against which they reclined. Deep
ravines, in various directions, gave an air of still sterner
solemnity to the scene.
The natural platform to which we had clambered was
thickly overgrown with brambles, through which we soon
discovered that it would have been impossible to force
our way but for the scythe ; and Jupiter, by direction of
his master, proceeded to clear for us a path to the foot
of an enormously tall tulip-tree, which stood, with some
254 Greatest Short Stories
eight or ten oaks, upon the level, and far surpassed them
all, and all other trees which I had then ever seen, in the
beauty of its foliage and form, in the wide spread of its
branches, and in the general majesty of its appearance.
When we reached this tree, Legrand turned to Jupiter,
and asked him if he thought he could climb it. The old
man seemed a little staggered by the question, and for
some moments made no reply. At length he approached
the huge trunk, walked slowly around it, and examined it
with minute attention. When he had completed his
scrutiny, he merely said :
" Yes, massa, Jup climb any tree he ebber see in he life."
"Then up with you as soon as possible, for it will
soon be too dark to see what we are about."
" How far mus' go up, massa? " inquired Jupiter.
" Get up the main trunk first, and then I will tell you
which way to go — and here — stop ! take this beetle
with you."
" De bug, Massa Will ! — de goole-bug ! " cried the
negro, drawing back in dismay — " what for mus' tote de
bug way up de tree ? — d — n if I do ! "
" If you are afraid, Jup, a great big negro like you, to
take hold of a harmless little dead beetle, why you can
carry it up by this string ; but, if you do not take it up
with you in some way, I shall be under the necessity of
breaking your head with this shovel."
"What de matter now, massa? "said Jup, evidently
shamed into compliance ; " always want for to raise fuss
wid old nigger. Was only funnin anyhow. Me feered
de bug! what I keer for de bug? " Here he took
cautiously hold of the extreme end of the string, and,
maintaining the insect as far from his person as circum-
stances would permit, prepared to ascend the tree.
In youth, the tulip- tree, or Liriodendron tuiiptferum,
The Gold-Bug 255
the most magnificent of American foresters, has a trunk
peculiarly smooth, and often rises to a great height with-
out lateral branches ; but, in its riper age, the bark
becomes gnarled and uneven, while many short limbs
make their appearance on the stem. Thus the difficulty
of ascension, in the present case, lay more in semblance
than in reality. Embracing the huge cylinder, as
closely as possible, with his arms and knees, seizing with
his hands some projections, and resting his naked toes
upon others, Jupiter, after one or two narrow escapes
from falling, at length wriggled himself into the first
great fork, and seemed to consider the whole business
as virtually accomplished. The risk of the achievement
was, in fact, now over, although the climber was some
sixty or seventy feet from the ground.
** Which way mus' go now, Massa Will? " he asked.
** Keep up the largest branch, — the one on this side,"
said Legrand. The negro obeyed him promptly, and
apparently with but little trouble ; ascending higher and
higher, until no glimpse of his squat figure could be
obtained through the dense foliage which enveloped it.
Presently his voice was heard in a sort of halloo.
" How much fudder is got for go? "
" How high up are you? " asked Legrand.
" Ebber so fur," replied the negro; "can see de sky
fru de top ob de tree."
" Never mind the sky, but attend to what I say.
Look down the trunk and count the limbs below you on
this side. How many limbs have you passed? "
" One, two, tree, four, fibe, — I done pass fibe big
limb, massa, 'pon dis side."
''Then go one limb higher."
In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announc-
ing that the seventh limb was attained.
256 Greatest Short Stories
" Now, Jup," cried Legrand, evidently much excited,
" I want you to work your way out upon that hmb as far
as you can. If you see anything strange, let me know."
By this time what little doubt I might have entertained
of my poor friend's insanity was put finally at rest. I
had no alternative but to conclude him stricken with
lunacy, and I became seriously anxious about getting
him home. While I was pondering upon what was best
to be done, Jupiter's voice was again heard.
" *Mos' feerd for to ventur 'pon dis limb berry far, —
'tis dead limb putty much all de way."
"Did you say it was a tfea^/ limb, Jupiter?" cried
Legrand, in a quavering voice.
" Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail — done up
for sartain — done departed dis here life."
" What in the name of Heaven shall I do ? " asked
Legrand, seemingly in the greatest distress.
" Do ! " said I, glad of an opportunity to interpose a
word ; " why, come home and go to bed. Come, now !
— that 's a fine fellow. It 's getting late, and, besides,
you remember your promise."
"Jupiter," cried he, without heeding me in the least,
" do you hear me ? "
"Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebbei:so plain."
" Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see if
you think it very rotten."
" Him rotten, massa, sure nuff," replied the negro in
a few moments, " but not so berry rotten as mought be.
Mought ventur out leetle way 'pon de limb by myself,
dat's true."
" By yourself I — What do you mean ? "
" Why I mean de bug. 'T is ^eny hebby bug.
S'pose I drop him down fuss, and den de limb won't
break wid just de weight ob one nigger."
The Gold-Bug 257
"You infernal scoundrel ! " cried Legrand, apparently
much relieved, " what do you mean by telling me such
nonsense as that? As sure as you drop that beetle I '11
break your neck. Look here, Jupiter, do you hear
me?"
" Yes, massa, need n't hollo at poor nigger dat style."
*' Well I now listen ! — if you will venture out on the
limb as far as you think safe, and not let go the beetle,
I '11 make you a present of a silver dollar as soon as you
get down."
" I *m gvvine, Massa Will, — 'deed I is," replied the
negro very promptly, — " mos' out to the eend now."
^^ Out to the end!'' here fairly screamed Legrand;
** do you say you are out to the end of that limb?"
" Soon be to de eend, massa, — 0-0-0-0-oh 1 Lor-gol-
a-marcy ! what is dis here 'pon de tree ? "
" Well ! " cried Legrand, highly delighted, " what is
it?"
" Why, 't ain't noffin but a skull — somebody bin lef
him head up de tree, and de crows done gobble ebery
bit ob de meat off."
" A skull, you say ! very well ! — how is it fastened to
the limb? — what holds it on?"
*' Sure nuff, massa ; mus' look. Why dis berry curous
sarcumstance, 'pon my word, — dare 's a great big nail in
de skull, what fastens ob it on to de tree."
"Well, now, Jupiter, do exactly as I tell you, — do
you hear? "
" Yes, massa."
" Pay attention, then ! — find the left eye of the skull."
" Hum ! hoo ! dat 's good ! why, dare ain't no eye lef
at all."
" Curse your stupidity ! do you know your right hand
from your left? "
17
258 Greatest Short Stories
" Yes, I nose dat, — nose all 'bout dat, — 't is my lef
hand what I chops de wood wid."
" To be sure ! you are left-handed ; and your left eye
is on the same side as your left hand. Now, I suppose,
you can find the left eye of the skull, or the place where
the left eye has been. Have you found it ? "
Here was a long pause. At length the negro asked :
" Is de lef eye of de skull 'pon de same side as de lef
hand of de skull too ? — 'cause de skull ain't not got a bit
ob a hand at all, — nebber mind ! I got de lef eye now,
— here de lef eye ! what mus' do wid it? "
" Let the beetle drop through it, as far as the string
will reach, — but be careful and not let go your hold of
the string."
" All dat done, Massa Will ; mighty easy ting for to
put de bug fru de hole, — look out for him dare below ! "
During this colloquy no portion of Jupiter's person
could be seen ; but the beetle, which he had suffered to
descend, was now visible at the end of the string, and
glistened, like a globe of burnished gold, in the last rays
of the setting sun, some of which still faintly illumined
the eminence upon which we stood. The scarabceus
hung quite clear of any branches, and, if allowed to fall,
would have fallen at our feet. Legrand immediately
took the scythe, and cleared with' it a circular space,
three or four yards in diameter, just beneath the insect,
and having accomplished this, ordered Jupiter to let go
the string and come down from the tree.
Driving a peg, with great nicety, into the ground, at
the precise spot where the beetle fell, my friend now
produced from his pocket a tape-measure. Fastening
one end of this at that point of the trunk of the tree
which was nearest the peg, he unrolled it till it reached
the peg, and thence farther unrolled it, in the direction
The Gold- Bug 259
already established by the two points of the tree and
the peg, for the distance of fifty feet, — Jupiter clear-
ing away the brambles with the scythe. At the spot thus
attained a second peg was driven, and about this, as a
centre, a rude circle, about four feet in diameter, de-
scribed. Taking now a spade himself, and giving one
to Jupiter and one to me, Legrand begged us to set about
digging as quickly as possible.
To speak the truth, I had no especial relish for such
amusement at any time, and, at that particular moment,
would most willingly have declined it ; for the night was
coming on, and I felt much fatigued with the exercise
already taken ; but I saw no mode of escape, and was
fearful of disturbing my poor friend's equanimity by a
refusal. Could I have depended, indeed, upon Jupiter's
aid, I would have had no hesitation in attempting to get
the lunatic home by force ; but I was too well assured of
the old negro's disposition, to hope that he would assist
me, under any circumstances, in a personal contest with
his master. I made no doubt that the latter had been
infected with some of the innumerable Southern super-
stitions about money buried, and that his fantasy had
received confirmation by the finding of the scarabceus,
or, perhaps, by Jupiter's obstinacy in maintaining it to
be " a bug of real gold." A mind disposed to lunacy
would readily be led away by such suggestions, — espe-
cially if chiming in with favorite preconceived ideas, —
and then I called to mind the poor fellow's speech about
the beetle's being " the index of his fortune." Upon
the whole, I was sadly vexed and puzzled, but, at length,
I concluded to make a virtue of necessity, — to dig with
a good will, and thus the sooner to convince the vision-
ary, by ocular demonstration, of the fallacy of the opin-
ions he entertained.
26o Greatest Short Stories
The lanterns having been lit, we all fell to work with
a zeal worthy a more rational cause ; and, as the glare
fell upon our persons and implements, I could not help
thinking how picturesque a group we composed, and how
strange and suspicious our labors must have appeared
to any interloper who, by chance, might have stumbled
upon our whereabouts.
We dug very steadily for two hours. Little was said ;
and our chief embarrassment lay in the yelpings of the
dog, who took exceeding interest in our proceedings.
He at length became so obstreperous that we grew
fearful of his giving the alarm to some stragglers in
the vicinity, — or, rather, this was the apprehension of
Legrand ; — for myself, I should have rejoiced at any
interruption which might have enabled me to get the
wanderer home. The noise was, at length, very effectu-
ally silenced by Jupiter, who, getting out of the hole with
a dogged air of deliberation, tied the brute's mouth up
with one of his suspenders, and then returned, with a
grave chuckle, to his task.
When the time mentioned had expired, we had
reached a depth of five feet, and yet no signs of any
treasure became manifest. A general pause ensued, and
I began to hope that the farce was at an end. Legrand,
however, although evidently much disconcerted, wiped
his brow thoughtfully, and recommenced. We had ex-
cavated the entire circle of four feet diameter, and now
we slightly enlarged the limit, and went to the farther
depth of two feet. Still nothing appeared. The gold-
seeker, whom I sincerely pitied, at length clambered from
the pit, with the bitterest disappointment imprinted
upon every feature, and proceeded, slowly and reluc-
tantly, to put. on his coat, which he had thrown off at the
beginning of his labor. In the meantime I made no
The Gold-Bug 261
remark. Jupiter, at a signal from his master, began to
gather up his tools. This done, and the dog having
been unmuzzled, we turned in profound silence towards
home.
We had taken, perhaps, a dozen steps in this direction,
when, with a loud oath, Legrand strode up to Jupiter,
and seized him by the collar. The astonished negro
opened his eyes and mouth to the fullest extent, let fall
the spades, and fell upon his knees.
"You scoundrel," said Legrand, hissing out the syl-
lables from between his clenched teeth, -— " you infernal
black villain ! — speak, I tell you ! — answer me this in-
stant, without prevarication ! — which — which is your
left eye?"
" Oh, my golly, Massa Will ! ain't dis here my lef eye
for sartain?" roared the terrified Jupiter, placing his
hand upon his right organ of vision, and holding it there
with a desperate pertinacity, as if in immediate dread of
his master's attempt at a gouge.
" I thought so ! — I knew it ! hurrah ! " vociferated
Legrand, letting "the negro go, and executing a series of
curvets and caracoles, much to the astonishment of his
valet, who, arising from his knees, looked, mutely, from
his master to myself, and then from myself to his
master.
" Come ! we must go back," said the latter, '^ the
game 's not up yet." And he again led the way to the
tuhp-tree.
" Jupiter," said he, when we reached its foot, " come
here ! Was the skull nailed to the limb with the face
outwards, or with the face to the limb?"
" De face was out, massa, so dat de crows could get
at de eyes good, widout any trouble."
" Well, then, was it this eye or that through which you
262 Greatest Short Stories
dropped the beetle?" — here Legrand touched each ol
Jupiter's eyes.
" 'T was dis eye, massa, — de lef eye, — jis as you tell
me," and here it was his right eye that the negro indi-
cated.
" That will do, — we must try it again."
Here my friend, about whose madness I now saw, or
fancied that I saw, certain indications of method, re-
moved the peg which marked the spot where the beetle
fell, to a spot about three inches to the westward of its
former position. Taking, now, the tape-measure from
the nearest point of the trunk to the peg, as before, and
continuing the extension in a straight hne to the distance
of fifty feet, a spot was indicated, removed, by several
yards, from the point at which we had been digging.
Around the new position a circle, somewhat largei
than in the former instance, was now described, and we
again set to work with the spades. I was dreadfully
weary, but, scarcely understanding what had occasioned
the change in my thoughts, I felt no longer any great
aversion from the labor imposed. I had become most
unaccountably interested, — nay, even excited. Perhaps
there was something, amid all the extravagant demeanor
of Legrand, — some air of forethought, or of deliberation,
— which impressed me. I dug eagerly, and now and
then caught myself actually looking, with something that
very much resembled expectation, for the fancied treas-
ure, the vision of which had demented my unfortunate
companion. At a period when such vagaries of thought
most fully possessed me, and when we had been at work
perhaps an hour and a half, we were again interrupted by
the violent bowlings of the dog. His uneasiness, in the
first instance, had been, evidently, but the result of play-
fulness or caprice, but he now assumed a bitter and
The Gold- Bug 263
serious tone. Upon Jupiter's again attempting to muzzle
him, he made furious resistance, and, leaping into the
hole, tore up the mould frantically with his claws. In a
few seconds he had uncovered a mass of human bones,
forming two complete skeletons, intermingled with several
buttoi^s of metal, and what appeared to be the dust of
decayed woollen. One or two 'strokes of a spade up-
turned the blade of a large Spanish knife, and, as we dug
farther, three or four loose pieces of gold and silver
coin came to light.
At sight of these, the joy of Jupiter could scarcely be
restrained, but the countenance of his master wore an
air of extreme disappointment. He urged us, however,
to continue our exertions, and the words were hardly
uttered, when I stumbled and fell forward, having caught
the toe of my boot in a large ring of iron that lay half
buried in the loose earth.
We now worked in earnest, and never did I pass ten
minutes of more intense excitement. During this in-
terval we had fairly unearthed an oblong chest of wood,
which, from its perfect preservation and wonderful hard-
ness, had plainly been subjected to some mineralizing
process, — perhaps that of the bichloride of mercury.
This box was three feet and a half long, three feet broad,
and two and a half feet deep. It was firmly secured by
bands of wrought-iron, riveted, and forming a kind of
open Irellis-work over the whole. On each side of the
chest, near the top, were three rings of iron, — six in all, —
by means of which a firm hold could be obtained by six
persons. Our utmost united endeavors served only to
disturb the coffer very slightly in its bed. We at once
saw the impossibility of removing so great a weight.
Luckily, the sole fastenings of the lid consisted of two
sliding bolts. These we drew back, — trembling and
264 Greatest Short Stories
panting with anxiety. In an instant, a treasure of in-
calculable value lay gleaming before us. As the rays of
the lanterns fell within the pit, there flashed upwards a
glow and a glare, from a confused heap of gold and of
jewels, that absolutely dazzled our eyes.
I shall not pretend to describe the feelings with which
I gazed. Amazement was, of course, predominant. Le-
grand appeared exhausted with excitement, and spoke
very few words. Jupiter's countenance wore, for some
minutes, as deadly a pallor as it is possible, in the nature
of things, for any negro's visage to assume. He seemed
stupefied, — thunder-stricken. Presently he fell upon
his knees in the pit, and, burying his naked arms up to
the elbows in gold, let them there remain, as if enjoying
the luxury of a bath. At length, with a deep sigh, he
exclaimed, as if in a soliloquy :
" And dis all cum ob de goole-bug ! de putty goole-
bug ! de poor little goole-bug, what I boosed in dat
sabage kind ob style ! Ain't you 'shamed ob yourself,
nigger? — Answer me dat ! "
It became necessary, at last, that I should arouse both
master and valet to the expediency of removing the
treasure. It was growing late, and it behooved us to
make exertion, that we might get everything housed
before daylight. It was difficult to say what should be
done, and much time was spent in dehberation, — so
confused were the ideas of all. We finally lightened the
box by removing two-thirds of its contents, v/hen we
were enabled, with some trouble, to raise it from the hole.
The articles taken out were deposited among the bram-
bles, and the dog left to guard them, with strict orders
from Jupiter neither, upon any pretence, to stir from the
spot, nor to open his mouth, until our return. We then
hurriedly made for home with the chest ; reaching the
The Gold-Bug 265
hut in safety, but after excessive toil, at one o'clock in
the morning. Worn out as we were, it was not in hu-
man nature to do more immediately. We rested until
two, and had supper ; starting for the hills immediately
afterwards, armed with three stout sacks, which, by good
luck, were upon the premises. A Httle before four we
arrived at the pit, divided the remainder of the booty, as
equally as might be, among us, and, leaving the holes
unfilled, again set out for the hut, at which, for the sec-
ond time, we deposited our golden burdens, just as the
first faint streaks of the dawn gleamed from over the
tree-tops in the east.
We were now thoroughly broken down ; but the in-
tense excitement of the time denied us repose. After
an unquiet slumber of some three or four hours' duration,
we arose, as if by preconcert, to make examination of
our treasure.
The chest had been full to the brim, and we spent the
whole day and the greater part of the next night in a
scrutiny of its contents. There had been nothing like
order or arrangement. Everything had been heaped in
promiscuously. Having assorted all with care, we found
ourselves possessed of even vaster wealth than we had at
first supposed. In coin there was rather more than four
hundred and fifty thousand dollars, — estimating the
value of the pieces, as accurately as we could, by the
tables of the period. There was not a particle of silver.
All was gold of antique date and of great variety, —
French, Spanish, and German money, with a few English
guineas, and some counters, of which we had never seen
specimens before. There were several very large and
heavy coins, so worn that we could make nothing of
their inscriptions. There was no American money. The
value of the jewels we found more difficulty in es-
266 Greatest Short Stories
timating. There were diamonds, — some of them
exceedingly large and fine, — a hundred and ten in
all, and not one of them small ; eighteen rubies of
remarkable brilliancy ; three hundred and ten emeralds,
all very beautiful ; and twenty-one sapphires, with an
opal. These stones had all been broken from their
settings and thrown loose in the chest. The settings
themselves, which we picked out from among the other
gold, appeared to have been beaten up with hammers
as if to prevent identification. Besides all this, there
was a vast quantity of solid gold ornaments ; — nearly
two hundred massive finger and ear rings ; — rich chains,
— thirty of these, if I remember ; — eighty-three very
large and heavy crucifixes ; — five gold censers of great
value ; — a prodigious golden punch-bowl, ornamented
with richly chased vine-leaves and Bacchanalian figures ;
with two sword-handles exquisitely embossed, and many
other smaller articles which I cannot recollect. The
weight of these valuables exceeded three hundred and
fifty pounds avoirdupois ; and in this estimate I have
not included one hundred and ninety-seven superb
gold watches ; three of the number being worth each
five hundred dollars, if one. Many of them were very
old, and as time-keepers valueless; the works having
suffered, more or less, from corrosion ; but all were
richly jewelled and in cases of great worth. We es-
timated the entire contents of the chest, that night, at
a milHon and a half of dollars; and, upon the subse-
quent disposal of the trinkets and jewels (a few being
retained for our own use), it was found that we had
greatly undervalued the treasure.
When, at length, we had concluded our examination,
and the intense excitement of the time had in some meas-
ure subsided, Legrand, who saw that I was dying with
The Gold-Bug 267
impatience for a solution of this most extraordinary rid-
dle, entered into a full detail of all the circumstances
connected with it.
" You remember," said he, " the night when I handed
you the rough sketch I had made of the scarabceus.
You recollect, also, that I became quite vexed at you
for insisting that my drawing resembled a death's-head.
When you first made this assertion I thought you were
jesting ; but afterwards I called to mind the peculiar spots
on the back of the insect, and admitted to myself that
your remark had some little foundation in fact. Still, the
sneer at my graphic powers irritated me, — for I am con-
sidered a good artist, — and, therefore, when you handed
me the scrap of parchment, I was about to crumple it up
and throw it angrily into the fire."
" The scrap of paper, you mean," said I.
'* No ; it had much of the appearance of paper, and at
first I supposed it to be such, but when I came to draw
upon it, I discovered it, at once, to be a piece of very thin
parchment. It was quite dirty, you remember. Well, as
I was in the very act of crumpling it up, my glance fell
upon the sketch at which you had been looking, and you
may imagine my astonishment when I perceived, in fact,
the figure of a death's-head, just where, it seemed to me,
I had made the drawing of the beetle. For a moment I
was too much amazed to think with accuracy. I knew
that my design was very different in detail from this, —
although there was a certain similarity in general outline.
Presently I took a candle, and seating myself at the other
end of the room, proceeded to scrutinize the parchment
more closely. Upon turning it over, I saw my own sketch
upon the reverse, just as I had made it. My first idea,
now, was mere surprise at the really remarkable similarity of
outline, — at the singular coincidence involved in the fact
268 Greatest Short Stories
that, unknown to me, there should have been a skull upon
the other side of the parchment, immediately beneath
my figure of the scarabceus, and that this skull, not only
in outline, but in size, should so closely resemble my
drawing. I say the singularity of this coincidence abso-
lutely stupefied me for a time. This is the usual effect
of such coincidences. The mind struggles to establish
a connection, — a sequence of cause and effect, — and,
being unable to do so, suffers a species of temporary pa-
ralysis. But, when I recovered from this stupor, there
dawned upon me gradually a conviction which startled me
even far more than the coincidence. I began distinctly,
positively, to remember that there had been no drawing
upon the parchment when I made my sketch of the sca-
rabceus. I became perfectly certain of this ; for I recol-
lected turning up first one side and then the other, in
search of the cleanest spot. Had the skull been there
then, of course I could not have failed to notice it.
Here was indeed a mystery which I felt it impossible to
explain ; but, even at that early moment, there seemed
to glimmer, faintly, within the most remote and secret
chambers of my intellect, a glowworm-like conception of
that truth which last night's adventure brought to so mag-
nificent a demonstration. I arose at once, and putting
the parchment securely away, dismfssed all further reflec-
tion until I should be alone.
" When you had gone, and when Jupiter was fast asleep,
I betook myself to a more methodical investigation of the
affair. In the first place I considered the manner in
which the parchment had come into my possession. The
spot where we discovered the sca^-abceus was on the coast
of the mainland, about a mile eastward of the island, and
but a short distance above high-water mark. Upon my tajc-
ing hold of it, it gave me a sharp bite, which caused me
The Gold-Bug 269
to let it drop. Jupiter, with his accustomed caution, be-
fore seizing the insect, which had flown towards him,
looked about hira for a leaf, or something of that nature,
by which to take- hold of it. It was at this moment that
his eyes, and mine also, fell upon the scrap of parchment,
which I then supposed to be paper. It was lying half buried
in the sand, a corner sticking up. Near the spot where
we found it, I observed the remnants of the hull of what
appeared to have been a ship's long-boat. The wreck
seemed to have been there for a very great while ; for the
resemblance to boat timbers could scarcely be traced.
" Well, Jupiter picked up the parchment, wrapped the
beetle in it, and gave it to me. Soon afterwards we
turned to go home, and on the way met Lieutenant
G . I showed him the insect, and he begged me to
let him take it to the fort. Upon my consenting, he
thrust it forthwith into his waistcoat-pocket, without the
parchment in which it had been wrapped, and which I
had continued to hold in my hand during his inspection.
Perhaps he dreaded my changing my mind, and thought
it best to make sure of the prize at once, — you know how
enthusiastic he is on all subjects connected with natural
history. At the same time, without being conscious of it,
I must have deposited the parchment in my own pocket.
" You remember that when I went to the table, for the
purpose of making a sketch of the beetle, I found no
paper where it was usually kept. I looked in the drawer,
and found none there. I searched my pockets, hoping
to find an old letter, when my hand fell upon the parch-
ment. I thus detail the precise mode in which it came
into my possession ; for the circumstances impressed me
with peculiar force.
*' No doubt you will think me fanciful, — but I had
already established a kind of connection, I had .put to-
270 Greatest Short Stories
gether two links of a great chain. There was a boat
lying upon a sea-coast, and not far from the boat was a
parchment — not a paper — with a skull depicted upon
it. You will, of course, ask : * Where is the connection ? '
I reply that the skull, or death's-head, is the well-known
emblem of the pirate. The flag of the death's-head is
hoisted in all engagements.
" I have said that the scrap was parchment, and not
paper. Parchment is durable, — almost imperishable.
Matters of little moment are rarely consigned to parch-
ment ; since, for the mere ordinary purposes of drawing
or writing, it is not nearly so well adapted as paper.
This reflection suggested some meaning — some rele-
vancy — in the death's-head. I did not fail to observe,
also, the fo7'fn of the parchment. Although one of its
corners had been, by some accident, destroyed, it could
be seen that the original form was oblong. It was just
such a slip, indeed, as might have been chosen for a
memorandum, — for a record of something to be long
remembered and carefully preserved."
" But," I interposed, you say that the skull was not
upon the parchment when you made the drawing of the
beetle. How then do you trace any connection between
the boat and the skull, — since this latter, according to
your own admission, must have been designed (God
only knows how or by whom) at some period subsequent
to your sketching the scarab (eus ? "
" Ah, hereupon turns the whole mystery ; although
the secret, at this point, I had comparatively little diffi-
culty in solving. My steps were sure, and could afford
but a single result. I reasoned, for example, thus :
When I drew the scarabceus, there was no skull apparent
upon the parchment. When I had completed the draw-
ing I gave it to you, and observed you narrowly until
The Gold- Bug 271
you returned it. You, therefore, did not design the skull,
and no one else was present to do it. Then it was not
done by human agency. And nevertheless it was done.
"At this stage of my reflections I endeavored to
remember, and did remember, with entire distinctness,
every incident which occurred about the period in ques-
tion. The weather was chilly (O rare and happy acci-
dent !), and a fire was blazing upon the hearth. I was
heated with exercise, and sat near the table. You, how-
ever, had drawn a chair close to the chimney. Just as
I placed the parchment in your hand, and as you were
in the act of inspecting it, Wolf, the Newfoundland,
entered, and leaped upon your shoulders. With your
left hand you caressed him and kept him off, while your
right, holding the parchment, was permitted to fall list-
lessly between your knees, and in close proximity to the
fire. At one moment I thought the blaze had caught it,
and was about to caution you, but, before I could speak,
you had withdrawn it, and were engaged in its examina-
tion. When I considered all these particulars, I doubted
not for a moment that heat had been the agent in bring-
ing to light, upon the parchment, the skull which I saw
designed upon it. You are well aware that chemical
preparations exist, and have existed time out of mind,
by means of which it is possible to write upon either
paper or vellum, so that the characters shall become
visible only when subjected to the action of fire. Zaifre,
digested in aqua regia, and diluted with four times its
weight of water, is sometimes employed \ a green tint
results. The regulus of cobalt, dissolved in spirit of nitre,
gives a red. These colors disappear at longer or shorter
intervals after the material written upon cools, but again
become apparent upon the re-application of heat.
" I now scrutinized the death's-head with care. Its
272 Greatest Short Stories
outer edges — the edges of the drawing nearest the edg^
of the vellum — were far more distifict than the others.
It was clear that the action of the caloric had been im-
perfect or unequal. I immediately kindled a fire, and
subjected every portion of the parchment to a glowing
heat. At first, the only effect was the strengthening of
the faint lines in the skull ; but, upon persevering in the
experiment, there became visible, at the corner of the
slip, diagonally opposite to the spot in which the death's-
head was delineated, the figure of what I at first sup-
posed to be a goat. A closer scrutiny, however, satisfied
me that it was intended for a kid."
"Ha! ha!" said I, "to be sure I have no right to
laugh at you, — a million and a half of money is too
serious a matter for mirth, — but you are not about to
establish a third link in your chain, — you will not find
any especial connection between your pirates and a goat,
— pirates, you know, have nothing to do with goats ;
they appertain to the farming interest."
" But I have just said that the figure was not that of a
goat."
" Well, a kid then, — pretty much the same thing."
" Pretty much, but not altogether," said Legrand.
" You may have heard of one Captain Kidd. I at once
looked upon the figure of the animal as a kind of pun-
ning or hieroglyphical signature. I say signature, because
its position upon ihe vellum suggested this idea. The
death's-head at the corner diagonally opposite had, in
the same manner, the air of a stamp, or seal. But I was
sorely put out by the absence of all else — of the body to
my imagined instrument — of the text for my context."
" I presume you expected to find a letter between the
Stamp and the signature."
*' Something of that kind. The fact is, I felt irresisti*
The Gold-Bug 273
bly impressed with a presentiment of some vast good-for-
tune impending. I can scarcely say why. Perhaps, after
all, it was rather a desire than an actual belief; — but do
you know that Jupiter's silly words, about the bug being
of solid gold, had a remarkable effect upon my fancy?
And then the series of accidents and coincidences, —
these were so very extraordinary. Do you observe how
mere an accident it was that these events should have
occurred upon the sole day of all the year in which it has
been, or may be, sufficiently cool for fire, and that with-
out the fire, or without the intervention of the dog at the
precise moment in which he appeared, I should never
have become aware of the death's-head, and so never
the possessor of the treasure ? ' '
" But proceed, — I am all impatience."
** Well j you have heard, of course, the many stories
current — the thousand vague rumors afloat about money
buried, somewhere upon the Atlantic coast, by Kidd and
his associates. These rumors must have had some foun-
dation in fact. And that the rumors have existed so
long and so continuously could have resulted, it appeared
to me, only from the circumstance of the buried treasure
still remaining entombed. Had Kidd concealed his
plunder for a time, and afterwards reclaimed it, the
rumors would scarcely have reached us in thei"r present
unvarying form. You will observe that the stories told
are all about money-seekers, not about money-finders.
Had the pirate recovered his money, there the affair
would have dropped. It seemed to me that some acci-
dent — say the loss of a memorandum indicating its
locality — had deprived him of the means of recovering it,
and that this accident had become known to his followers,
who otherwise might never have heard that treasure had
been concealed at all, and who, busying themselves in
18
274 Greatest Short Stories
vain, because unguided, attempts to regain it, had given
first birth, and then universal currency, to the reports
which are now so common. Have you ever heard of any
important treasure being unearthed along the coast? "
" Never."
" But that Kidd's accumulations were immense, is .
well known. I took it for granted, therefore, that the
earth still held them ; and you will scarcely be surprised
when I tell you that I felt a hope, nearly amounting to
certainty, that the parchment so strangely found involved
a lost record of the place of deposit."
" But how did you proceed? "
" I held the vellum again to the fire, after increasing
the heat; but nothing appeared. I now thought it
possible that the coating of dirt might have something to
do with the failure ; so I carefully rinsed the parchment
by pouring warm water over it, and, having done this,
I placed it in a tin pan, with the skull downwards,
and put the pan upon a furnace of lighted charcoal.
In a few minutes, the pan having become thoroughly
heated, I removed the slip, and, to my inexpressible joy,
found it spotted, in several places, with what appeared
to be figures arranged in lines. Again I placed it in the
pan, and suffered it to remain another minute. Upon
taking it off, the whole was just as you see it now."
Here Legrand, having re-heated the parchment, sub-
mitted it to my inspection. The following characters
were rudely traced, in a red tint, between the death's-
head and the goat :
53nt305))6*;4826)4t.)4t);8o6*;48t8l[6o))85;it
(;:J*8t83(88)5n;46(;88*96*?;8)n(;485);5*t2:n(;
4956*2(5*— 4)8ni8*;4o69285);)6t8)4U;i(t9;48o8i
;8:8ii;48t85;4)485t5288o6*8i(|9;48i8)8;4(t?34;48)
4j;i6i;:i88;J?;
The Gold-Bug 275
" But," said I, returning him the sUp, " I am as much
in the dark as ever. Were all the jewels of Golconda
awaiting me upon my solution of this enigma, I am quite
sure that I should be unable to earn them."
" And yet," said Legrand, ** the solution is by no
means so difficult as you might be led to imagine from the
first hasty inspection of the characters. These characters,
as any one might readily guess, form a cipher — that is
to say, they convey a meaning ; but then, from what is
known of Kidd, I could not suppose him capable of con-
structing any of the more abstruse cryptographs. I made
up my mind, at once, that this was of a simple species, —
such, however, as would appear, to the crude intellect of
the sailor, absolutely insoluble without the key."
" And you really solved it? "
'* Readily ; T have solved others of an abstruseness ten
thousand times greater. Circumstances, and a certain
bias of mind, have led me to take interest in such riddles,
and it may well be doubted whether human ingenuity
can construct an enigma of the kind which human in-
genuity may not, by proper application, resolve. In fact,
having once established connected and legible characters,
I scarcely gave a thought to the mere difficulty of devel-
oping their import.
" In the present case, — indeed in all cases of secret
writing, — the first question regards the language of the
cipher ; for the principles of solution, so far, especially,
as the more simple ciphers are concerned, depend upon,
and are varied by, the genius of the particular idiom.
In general, there is no alternative but ei^periment (di-
rected by probabilities) of every tongue known to him
who attempts the solution, until the true one be attained.
But, with the cipher now before us, all difficulty was
removed by the signature. The pun upon the word
276
Greatest Short Stories
' Kidd ' is appreciable in no other language than the
English. But for this consideration I should have begun
my attempts with the Spanish and French, as the tongues
in which a secret of this kind would most naturally have
been written by a pirate of the Spanish main. As it was,
I assumed the cryptograph to be English.
" You observe there are no divisions between the
words. Had there been divisions, the task would have
been comparatively easy. In such case I should have
commenced with a collation and analysis of the shorter
words, and, had a word of a single letter occurred, as is
most likely {a or /, for example) , I should have considered
the solution as assured. But, there being no division,
my first step was to ascertain the predominant letters, as
well as the least frequent. Counting all, I constructed
a table, thus :
Of the character 8 there are 33
^ 66-
26.
4
t(
19.
\)
t(
16.
*
ft
13-
5
t(
12.
6
it
II.
ti
ft
8.
(t
6.
92
tt
5.
:3
It
4.
?
tt
3-
H
it
2.
__ ,
tt
I.
" Now, in English, the letter which most frequently
occurs is e. Afterwards, the succession runs thus \ aoi
The Gold-Bug 277
dh n rstuycfghn w bkp qxz. E predominates so re-
markably, that an individual sentence of any length is
rarely seen in which it is not the prevailing character.
**Here, then, we have, in the very beginning, the
groundwork for something more than a mere guess.
The general use which may be made of the table is
obvious ; but, in this particular cipher, we shall only very
partially require its aid. As our predominant character
is 8, we will commence by assuming it as the e of the
natural alphabet. To verify the supposition, let us ob-
serve if the 8 be seen often in couples, — for <? is doubled
with great frequency in English, — in such words, for
example, as * meet,' * fleet,' * speed,' ' seen,' * been,'
* agree,' etc. In the present instance we see it doubled
no less than five times, although the cryptograph is
brief.
" Let us assume 8, then, as e. Now, of all words in
the language, * the ' is most usual ; let us see, therefore,
whether there are not repetitions of any three characters,
in the same order of collocation, the last of them being
8. If we discover repetitions of such letters, so arranged,
they will most probably represent the word * the.' Upon
inspection, we find no less than seven such arrangements,
the characters being ;48. We may, therefore, assume
that ; represents /, 4 represents h^ and 8 represents ^,
— the last being now well confirmed. Thus a great
step has been taken.
" But, having established a single word, we are enabled
to estabHsh a vastly important point; that is to say,
several commencements and terminations of other
words. Let us refer, for example, to the last instance
but one, in which the combination ;48 occurs, — not
far from the end of the cipher. We know that the ;
immediately ensuing is the commencement of a word.
278 Greatest Short Stories
and, of the six characters succeeding this ' the,' we are
cognizant of no less than five. Let us set these charac-
ters down, thus, by the letters we know them to repre-
sent, leaving a space for the unknown —
t eeth.
" Here we are enabled, at once, to discard the thy as
forming no portion of the word commencing with the
first /; since, by experiment of the entire alphabet for a
letter adapted to the vacancy, we perceive that no word
can be formed of which this th can be a part. We are
thus narrowed into
t ee,
and, going through the alphabet, if necessary, as before,
we arrive at the word ' tree,' as the sole possible read-
ing. We thus gain another letter, r, represented by (,
with the words * the tree ' in juxtaposition.
" Looking beyond these words, for a short distance,
we again see the combination ;48, and employ it by
way of termination to what immediately precedes. We
have thus this arrangement :
the tree ;4(| ?34 the,
or, substituting the natural letters, where known, it reads
thus ;
the tree thrj ?3h the.
" Now, if, in place of the unknown characters, we
leave blank spaces, or substitute dots, we read thus :
the tree thr...h the,
The Gold-Bug 279
when the word * through ' makes itself evident at once.
But this discovery gives us three new letters, a, Uj and ^,
represented by {, ?, and 3.
" Looking, now, narrowly, through the cipher for
combinations of known characters, we find, not very far
from the beginning, this arrangement,
83(88, or egree,
which, plainly, is the conclusion of the word * degree,'
and gives us another letter d, represented by f.
" Four letters beyond the word * degree,' we perceive
the combination
;46(;88*.
" Translating the known characters, and representing
the unknown by dots, as before, we read thus :
th.rtee.,
an arrangement immediately suggestive of the word
* thirteen,' and again furnishing us with two new charac-
ters, / and n, represented by 6 and *.
"Referring, now, to the beginning of the crypto-
graph, we find the combination,
S3Ut.
"Translating, as before, we obtain
.good,
which assures us that the first letter is A, and that the
first two words are *A good.'
" It is now time that we arrange our key, as far as
28o Greatest Short Stories
discovered, in a tabular form, to avoid confusion. It
will stand thus :
5 represents a
t " d
8 " e
3 " g
4 " h
6 " i
«
n
J " o
( " r
t
?
" We have, therefore, no less than eleven of the most
important letters represented, and it will be unnecessary
to proceed with the details of the solution. I have said
enough to convince you that ciphers of this nature are
readily soluble, and to give you some insight into the
rationale of their development. But be assured that
the specimen before us appertains to the very simplest
species of cryptograph. It now only remains to give
you the full translation of the characters upon the parch-
ment, as unriddled. Here it is :
" * A good glass in the bishop's hostel in the devil's
seat forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes northeast and
by north main branch seventh lifnb east side shoot from
the left eye of the death' s-head a bee line from the tree
through the shot fifty feet out' "
" But," said I, " the enigma seems still in as bad a
condition as ever. How is it possible to extort a mean-
ing from all this jargon about * devil's seats,' * death's-
heads,' and * bishop's hotels ' ? "
The Gold-Bug 281
'* I confess," replied Legrand, '' that the matter still
wears a serious aspect, when regarded with a casual
glance. My first endeavor was to divide the sentence
into the natural division intended by the crypto-
graphist."
" You mean, to punctuate it? "
" Something of that kind."
" But how was it possible to effect this? "
" I reflected that it had been a point with the writer
to run his words together without division, so as to
increase the difficulty of solution. Now, a not over-
acute man, in pursuing such an object, would be nearly
certain to overdo the matter. When, in the course of
his composition, he arrived at a break in his subject
which would naturally require a pause, or a point, he
would be exceedingly apt to run his characters, at this
place, more than usually close together. If you will
observe the manuscript in the present instance, you will
easily detect five such cases of unusual crowding. Act-
ing upon this hint, I made the division thus ;
" * A good glass in the bishop's hostel in the devils'
seat — forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes — northeast
and by north — main branch seventh limb east side —
shoot from the left eye of the death' s-head — a bee-line
from the tree through the shot fifty feet out' "
" Even this division," said I, " leaves me still in the
dark."
" It left me also in the dark," replied Legrand, " for
a few days ; during which I made diligent inquiry, in
the neighborhood of Sullivan's Island, for any building
which went by the name of the * Bishop's Hotel ' ; for,
of course, I dropped the obsolete word * hostel.* Gain-
282 Greatest Short Stories
ing no information on the subject, I was on the point of
extending my sphere of search, and proceeding in a
more systematic manner, when, one morning, it entered
into my head, quite suddenly, that this ' Bishop's Hos-
tel ' might have some reference to an old family, of the
name of Bessop, which, time out of mind, had held
possession of an ancient manor-house, about four miles
to the northward of the island. I accordingly went over'
to the plantation, and reinstituted my inquiries among
the older negroes of the place. At length one of the
most aged of the women said that §he had heard of
such a place as Bessop* s Castle^ and thought that she
could guide me to it, but that it was not a castle, nor a
tavern, but a high rock.
" I offered to pay her well for her trouble, and, after
some demur, she consented to accompany me to the
spot. We found it without much difficulty, when, dis-
missing her, I proceeded to examine the place. The
* castle ' consisted of an irregular assemblage of cliffs
and rocks, — one of the latter being quite remarkable
for its height as well as for its insulated and artificial
appearance. I clambered to its apex, and then felt
much at a loss as to what should be next done.
" While I was busied in reflection,^ my eyes fell upon
a narrow ledge in the eastern face of the rock, perhaps
a yard below the summit upon which I stood. This
ledge projected about eighteen inches, and was not more
than a foot wide, while a niche in the cliff just above it
gave it a rude resemblance to one of the hollow-backed
chairs used by our ancestors. I made no doubt that
here was the * devil's seat ' alluded to in the manuscript,
and now I seemed to grasp the whole secret.
"The *good glass,' I knew, could have reference to
Dothing but a telescope ;- for the word * glass ' is rarely
The Gold-Bug 283
employed in any other sense by seamen. Now here,
I at once saw, was a telescope to be used, and a definite
point of view, admitting no variation, from which to use
it. Nor did I hesitate to believe that the phrases,
* forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes,' and * northeast
and by north,' were intended as directions for the
levelling of the glass. Greatly excited by these dis-
coveries, I hurried home, procured a telescope, and
returned to the rock.
" I let myself down to the ledge, and found that it
was impossible to retain a seat upon it except in one
particular position. This fact confirmed my precon-
ceived idea. I proceeded to use the glass. Of course,
the * forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes ' could
allude to nothing but elevation above the visible horizon,
since the horizontal direction was clearly indicated by
the words, * northeast and by north.' This latter direc-
tion I at once established by means of a pocket-com-
pass; then, pointing the glass as nearly at an angle
of forty-one degrees of elevation as I could do it by
guess, I moved it cautiously up or down, until my atten-
tion was arrested by a circular rift or opening in the
foliage of a large tree that overtopped its fellows in the
distance. In the centre of this rift I perceived a white
spot, but could not, at first, distinguish what it was.
Adjusting the focus of the telescope, I again looked, and
now made it out to be a human skull.
" Upon this discovery I was so sanguine as to con-
sider the enigma solved ; for the phrase, ' main branch,
seventh limb, east side,' could refer only to the position
of the skull upon the tree, while * shoot from the left eye
of the death's-head ' admitted, also, of but one interpre-
tation, in regard to a search for buried treasure. I per-
ceived that the design was to drop a bullet from the
284 Greatest Short Stories
left eye of the skull, and that a bee-line, or, in other
words, a straight line, drawn from the nearest point of
the trunk through ' the shot ' (or the spot where the
bullet fell), and thence extended to a distance of fifty
feet, would indicate a definite point, — and beneath this
point I thought it at least possible that a deposit of value
lay concealed."
" All this," I said, " is exceedingly clear, and, although
ingenious, still simple and explicit. When you left the
'Bishop's Hotel,' what then?"
" Why, having carefully taken the bearings of the
tree, I turned homewards. The instant that I left * the
devil's seat,' however, the circular rift vanished, nor
could I get a glimpse of it afterwards, turn as I would.
What seems to me the chief ingenuity in this whole
business is the fact (for repeated experiment has con-
vinced me it is a fact) that the circular opening in
question is visible from no other attainable point of view
than that afforded by the narrow ledge upon the face of
the rock.
"In this expedition to the 'Bishop's Hotel' I had
been attended by Jupiter, who had, no doubt, observed,
for some weeks past, the abstraction of my demeanor,
and took especial care not to leave me alone. But, on
the next day, getting up very early," I contrived to give
him the sHp, and went into the hills in search of the
tree. After much toil I found it. When I came home
at night my valet proposed to give me a flogging. With
the rest of the adventure I believe you are as well ac-
quainted as myself."
" I suppose," said I, " you missed the spot, in the
first attempt at digging, through Jupiter's stupidity in
letting the bug fall through the right instead of through
the left eye of the skull."
The Gold-Bug 285
'* Precisely. This mistake made a difference of about
two inches and a half in * the shot * — that is to say, in
the position of the peg nearest the tree ; and had the
treasure been beneath * the shot,' the error would have
been of little moment ; but ' the shot,' together with the
nearest point of the tree, were merely two points for the
establishment of a line of direction ; of course the error,
however trivial in the beginning, increased as we pro-
ceeded with the line, and by the time we had gone fifty
feet threw us quite off the scent. But for my deep-
seated impressions that treasure was here somewhere
actually buried, we might have had all our labor in
vain."
" But your grandiloquence, and your conduct in swing-
ing the beetle, — how excessively odd ! , I was sure you
were mad. And why did you insist upon letting fall the
bug, instead of a bullet, from the skull? "
" Why, to be frank, I felt somewhat annoyed by your
evident suspicions touching my sanity, and so resolved to
punish you quietly, in my own way, by a little bit of sober
mystification. For this reason I swung the beetle, and
for this reason I let it fall from the tree. An observa-
tion of yours about its great weight suggested the latter
idea."
" Yes, I perceive ; and now there is only one point
which puzzles me. What are we to make of the skele-
tons found in the hole ? '*
" That is a question I am no more able to answer than
yourself. There seems, however, only one plausible way
of accounting for them, — and yet it is dreadful to be-
lieve in such atrocity as my suggestion would imply. It
is clear that Kidd, — if Kidd indeed secreted this
treasure, which I doubt not, — ■■ it is clear that he must
have had assistance in the labor. But, this labor con-
286 Greatest Short Stories
eluded, he may have thought it expedient to remove
all participants in his secret. Perhaps a couple of blows
with a mattock were sufficient, while his coadjutors were
busy in the pit ; perhaps it required a dozen, — who shall
tell?"
IX
THE GREAT STONE FACE
THE GREAT STONE FACE
By NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE
INTRODUCTORY
THE MORAL ELEMENT
POE was a purely intellectual being, and his
stories are stories of the intellect. As
such they are masterpieces, but no doubt
their lack of moral significance is the one thing
which has done most to blight the author's
fame. The element which Poe lacked we find
in supreme perfection in Hawthorne, who also
was a conscious artist in the writing of short
stories. These two men were contemporaries,
and appreciated each the work of the other, but
it would appear that neither influenced the other
in any way whatever. The era of the short story
was ripe, and the times produced two great short
story writers at the same season and in the same
country.
About the only thing resembling the short story
in ancient times was the fable. That was an ex-
tremely short tale with an extremely obvious
moral ; indeed, the moral was about all there was
to it. Until the time of Hawthorne, the fable
19
290 Greatest Short Stories
seems to have entered but slightly into the prog-
ress of the short story; but he took it up and
made it the keynote of nearly all he wrote. His
stories are all intended to illustrate a moral of some
kind, just as Poe's were intended to illustrate an
intellectual principle or problem.
We have already referred to the influence of
the ballad and song on the short story, and have
spoken of them as the source of the sentiment in
Dickens. Hawthorne was to add to the short story
also an element from the lyric and the poetic tale
(so closely akin to the ballad and song), namely,
beauty. Hawthorne even went further, and ap-
propriated characteristics of the painter and the
sculptor. A short story as Hawthorne tells it is a
perfect canvas. The subject is arranged with a
view to light and shade, and it is treated with per-
fect sense of color. Every line is a line of beauty,
and the atmosphere is ethereal and aesthetic. In
" The Great Stone Face " we also see the same
lofty sentiment that we found in Dickens, the same
intimate treatment of that which, but for fiction,
must remain forever hidden from the world's eye,
and the same succession of emotion following upon
emotion. Poetry has always been apt in blending
the noble and lofty in moral sentiment with the
element of beauty ; and in Hawthorne we find the
ancient fable clothed most naturally and grace-
fully with the poet's clouds of fancy and splendor
of color. Had Hawthorne possessed also Poe's
masterful intellect, he would no doubt have proved
The Great Stone Face 291
to be the supreme genius of the short story. Poe,
we shall find, has had many successors, but Haw-
thorne none.
THE GREAT STONE FACE.
ONE afternoon, when the sun was going down, a
mother and her little boy sat at the door of their
cottage, talking about the Great Stone Face. They had
but to lift their eyes, and there it was plainly to be seen,
though miles away, with the sunshine brightening all its
features.
And what was the Great Stone Face ?
Embosomed amongst a family of lofty mountains, there
was a valley so spacious that it contained many thousand
inhabitants. Some of these good people dwelt in log-
huts, with the black forest all around them, on the steep
and difficult hillsides. Others had their homes in com-
fortable farm-houses, and cultivated the rich soil on the
gentle slopes or level surfaces of the valley. Others,
again, were congregated into populous villages, where
some wild, highland rivulet, tumbling down from its birth-
place in the upper mountain region, had been caught
and tamed by human cunning, and compelled to turn the
machinery of cotton-factories. The inhabitants of this
valley, in short, were numerous, and of many modes of life.
But all of them, grown people and children, had a kind
of familiarity with the Great Stone Face, although some
possessed the gift of distinguishing this grand natural
phenomenon more perfectly than many of their neighbors.
The Great Stone Face, then, was a work of Nature in
her mood of majestic playfulness, formed on the perpen-
dicular side of a mountain by some immense rocks, which
had been thrown together in such a position as, when
292 Greatest Short Stories
viewed at a proper distance, precisely to resemble the
features of the human countenance. It seemed as if an
enormous giant, or a Titan, had sculptured his own like-
ness on the precipice. There was the broad arch of the
forehead, a hundred feet in height ; the nose, with its long
bridge ; and the vast lips, which, if they could have spoken,
would have rolled their thunder accents from one end of
the valley to the other. True it is, that if the spectator
approached too near, he lost the outline of the gigantic
visage, and could discern only a heap of ponderous and
gigantic rocks, piled in chaotic ruin one upon another.
Retracing his steps, however, the wondrous features
would again be seen ; and the farther he withdrew from
them, the more like a human face, with all its original
divinity intact, did they appear ; until, as it grew dim in
the distance, with the clouds and glorified vapor of the
mountains clustering about it, the Great Stone Face
seemed positively to be alive.
It was a happy lot for children to grow up to man-
hood or womanhood with the Great Stone Face before
their eyes, for all the features were noble, and the ex-
pression was at once grand and sweet, as if it were the
glow of a vast, warm heart, that embraced all mankind in
its affections, and had room for more. It was an education
only to look at it. According to the -belief of many peo-
ple, the valley owed much of its fertility to this benign
aspect that was continually beaming over it, illuminat-
ing the clouds, and infusing its tenderness into the sun-
shine.
As we began with saying, a mother and her little boy
sat at their cottage-door, gazing at the Great Stone Face,
and talking about it. The child's name was Ernest.
" Mother," said he, while the Titanic visage smiled on
him, " I wish that it could speak, for it looks so very
The Great Stone Face 293
kindly that its voice must needs be pleasant. If I
were to see a man with such a face, I should love him
dearly."
" If an old prophecy should come to pass," answered
his mother, " we may see a man, some time or other, with
exactly such a face as that."
" What prophecy do you mean, dear mother? " eagerly
inquired Ernest. " Pray tell me all about it ! "
So his mother told him a story that her own mother
had told to her, when she herself was younger than little
Ernest ; a story, not of things that were past, but of what
was yet to come ; a story, nevertheless, so very old, that
even the Indians, who formerly inhabited this valley, had
heard it from their forefathers, to whom, as they affirmed,
it had been murmured by the mountain streams, and
whispered by the wind among the tree-tops. The pur-
port was, that, at some future day, a child should be born
hereabouts, who was destined to become the greatest and
noblest personage of his time, and whose countenance, in
manhood, should bear an exact resemblance to the Great
Stone Face. Not a few old-fashioned people, and young
ones likewise, in the ardor of their hopes, still cherished
an enduring faith in this old prophecy. But others, who
had seen more of the world, had watched and waited till
they were weary, and had beheld no man with such a face,
nor any man that proved to be much greater or nobler
than his neighbors, concluded it to be nothing but an idle
tale. At all events, the great man of the prophecy had
not yet appeared.
** O mother, dear mother ! " cried Ernest, clapping his
hands above his head, " I do hope that I shall live to see
him ! "
His mother was an affectionate and thoughtful woman,
and felt that it was wisest not to discourage the generous
294 Greatest Short Stories
hopes of her little boy. So she only said to him, " Per-
haps you may."
And Ernest never forgot the story that his mother told
him. It was always in his mind, whenever he looked
upon the Great Stone Face. He spent his childhood in
the log-cottage where he was born, and was dutiful to
his mother, and helpful to her in many things, assisting
her much with his little hands, and more with his loving
heart. In this manner, from a happy yet often pensive
child, he grew up to be a mild, quiet, unobtrusive boy,
and sun-browned with labor in the fields, but with more
intelligence brightening his aspect than is seen in many
lads who have been taught at famous schools. Yet
Ernest had had no teacher, save only that the Great
Stone Face became one to him. When the toil of the
day was over, he would gaze at it for hours, until he
began to imagine that those vast features recognized
him, and gave him a smile of kindness and encourage-
ment, responsive to his own look of veneration. We
must not take upon us to affirm that this was a mistake,
although the Face may have looked no more kindly at
Ernest than at all the world besides. But the secret was,
that the boy's tender and confiding simplicity discerned
what other people could not see ; and thus the love, which
was meant for all, became his peculiar portion.
About this time, there went a rumor throughout the
valley, that the great man, foretold from ages long ago,
who was to bear a resemblance to the Great Stone Face,
had appeared at last. It seems that, many years before,
a young man had migrated from the valley and settled at
a distant seaport, where, after getting together a little
money, he had setup as a shopkeeper. His name — but
I could never learn whether it was his real one, or a
nickname that had grown. out of his habits and success
The Great Stone Face 295
in life — was Gathergold. Being shrewd and active,
and endowed by Providence with that inscrutable faculty
which develops itself in what the world calls luck, he be-
came an exceedingly rich merchant, and owner of a whole
fleet of bulky-bottomed ships. All the countries of the
globe appeared to join hands for the mere purpose of
adding heap after heap to the mountainous accumulation
of this one man's wealth. The cold regions of the north,
almost within the gloom and shadow of the Arctic Circle,
sent him their tribute in the shape of furs ; hot Africa
sifted for him the golden sands of her rivers, and gathered
up the ivory tusks of her great elephants out of the for-
ests ; the East came bringing him the rich shawls, and
spices, and teas, and the effulgence of diamonds, and the
gleaming purity of large pearls ; the ocean, not to be
behindhand with the earth, yielding up her mighty whales,
that Mr. Gathergold might sell their oil, and make a
profit on it. Be the original commodity what it might,
it was gold within his grasp. It might be said of him,
as of Midas in the fable, that whatever he touched with
his finger immediately glistened, and grew yellow, and
was changed at once into sterling metal, or, which suited
him still better, into piles of coin. And, when Mr. Gath-
ergold had become so very rich that it would have taken
him a hundred years only to count his wealth, he be-
thought himself of his native valley, and resolved to go
back thither, and end his days where he was born. With
this purpose in view, he sent a skilful architect to build
him such a palace as should be fit for a man of his vast
wealth to live in.
As I have said above, it had already been rumored in
the valley that Mr. Gathergold had turned out to be the
prophetic personage so long and vainly looked for, and
that his visage was the perfect and undeniable similitude
296 Greatest Short Stories
of the Great Stone Face. People were the more ready
to beheve that this must needs be the fact, when they be-
held the splendid edifice that rose, as if by enchantment,
on the site of his father's old weather-beaten farm-house.
The exterior was of marble, so dazzlingly white that it
seemed as though the whole structure might melt away
in the sunshine, like those humbler ones which Mr. Gath-
ergold, in his young play-days, before his fingers were
gifted with the touch of transmutation, had been accus-
tomed to build of snow. It had a richly ornamented
portico, supported by tall pillars, beneath which was a
lofty door, studded with silver knobs, and made of a kind
of variegated wood that had been brought from beyond
the sea. The windows, from the floor to the ceiling of
each stately apartment, were composed, respectively, of
but one enormous pane of glass, so transparently pure
that it was said to be a finer medium than even the va-
cant atmosphere. Hardly anybody had been permitted
to see the interior of this palace ; but it was reported,
and with good semblance of truth, to be far more gor-
geous than the outside, insomuch that whatever was iron
or brass in other houses was silver or gold in this ; and
Mr. Gathergold's bedchamber, especially, made such a
glittering appearance that no ordinary man would have
been able to close his eyes there. ^ But, on the other
hand, Mr. Gathergold was now so inured to wealth, that
perhaps he could not have closed his eyes unless where
the gleam of it was certain to find its way beneath his
eyelids.
In due time, the mansion was finished ; next came the
upholsterers, with magnificent furniture ; then, a whole
troop of black and white servants, the harbingers of Mr.
Gathergold, who, in his own majestic person, was ex-
pected to arrive at sunset. Our friend Ernest, mean*.
The Great Stone Face 297
while, had been deeply stirred by the idea that the great
man, the noble man, the man of prophecy, after so many
ages of delay, was at length to be made manifest to his
native valley. He knew, boy as he was, that there were
a thousand ways in which Mr. Gathergold, with his vast
wealth, might transform himself into an angel of benefi-
cence, and assume a control over human affairs as wide
and benignant as the smile of the Great Stone Face,
Full of faith and hope, Ernest doubted not that what the
people said was true, and that now he was to behold the
living Hkeness of those wondrous features on the moun-
tain-side. While the boy was still gazing up the valley,
and fancying, as he always did, that the Great Stone
Face returned his gaze and looked kindly at him, the
rumbling of wheels was heard, approaching swiftly along
the winding road.
'* Here he comes ! " cried a group of people who were
assembled to witness the arrival. " Here comes the
great Mr. Gathergold ! "
A carriage, drawn by four horses, dashed round the
turn of the road. Within it, thrust partly out of the
window, appeared the physiognomy of a litde old man,
with a skin as yellow as if his own Midas-hand had
transmuted it. He had a low forehead, small, sharp
eyes, puckered about with innumerable wrinkles, and
very thin lips, which he made still thinner by pressing
them forcibly together.
" The very image of the Great Stone Face ! " shouted
the people. " Sure enough, the old prophecy is true ;
and here we have the great man come, at last ! "
And, what greatly perplexed Ernest, they seemed act-
ually to believe that here was the likeness which they
spoke of. By the roadside there chanced to be an old
beggar-woman and two little beggar- children, stragglers
298 Greatest Short Stories
from some far-off region, who, as the carriage rolled on-
ward, held out their hands and lifted up their doleful
voices, most piteously beseeching charity. A yellow claw
— the very same that had clawed together so much
wealth — poked itself out of the coach-window, and
dropped some copper coins upon the ground ; so that,
though the great man's name seems to have been Gath-
ergold, he might just as suitably have been nicknamed
Scattercopper. Still, nevertheless, with an earnest shout,
and evidently with as much good faith as ever, the people
bellowed, —
** He is the very image of the Great Stone Face ! "
But Ernest turned sadly from the wrinkled shrewd-
ness of that sordid visage, and gazed up the valley,
where, amid a gathering mist, gilded by the last sun-
beams, he could still distinguish those glorious features
which had impressed themselves into his soul. Their
aspect cheered him. What did the benign lips seem to
say?
" He will come ! Fear not, Ernest ; the man will
come ! '*
The years went on, and Ernest ceased to be a boy.
He had grown to be a young man now. He attracted
little notice from the other inhabitants of the valley ; for
they saw nothing remarkable in his way of life, save that,
when the labor of the day was over, he still loved to go
apart and gaze and meditate upon the Great Stone Face.
According to their idea of the matter, it was a folly, in-
deed, but pardonable, inasmuch as Ernest was industri-
ous, kind, and neighborly, and neglected no duty for the
sake of indulging this idle habit. They knew not that
the Great Stone Face had become a teacher to him, and
that the sentiment which was expressed in it would enlarge
the young man's heart, and fill it with wider and deeper
The Great Stone Face 299
sympathies than other hearts. They knew not that thence
would come a better wisdom than could be learned from
books, and a better life than could be moulded on the
defaced example of other human lives. Neither did
Ernest know that the thoughts and affections which
came to him so naturally, in the fields and at the fire-
side, and wherever he communed with himself, were of
a higher tone than those which all men shared with him.
A simple soul, — simple as when his mother first taught
him the old prophecy, — he beheld the marvellous feat-
ures beaming adown the valley, and still wondered
that their human counterpart was so long in making his
appearance.
By this time poor Mr. Gathergold was dead and
buried ; and the oddest part of the matter was, that his
wealth, which was the body and spirit of his existence,
had disappeared before his death, leaving nothing of him
but a living skeleton, covered over with a wrinkled, yel-
low skin. Since the melting away of his gold, it had
been very generally conceded that there was no such
striking resemblance, after all, betwixt the ignoble feat-
ures of the ruined merchant and that majestic face upon
the mountain-side. So the people ceased to honor him
during his lifetime, and quietly consigned him to forget-
fulness after his decease. Once in a while, it is true,
his memory was brought up in connection with the mag-
nificent palace which he had built, and which had long
ago been turned into a hotel for the accommodation of
strangers, multitudes of whom came, every summer, to
visit that famous natural curiosity, the Great Stone Face.
Thus, Mr. Gathergold being discredited and thrown into
the shade, the man of prophecy was yet to come.
It so happened that a native-born son of the valley,
many years before, had enlisted as a soldier, and^ aftef
300 Greatest Short Stories
a great deal of hard fighting, had now become an illus-
trious commander. Whatever he may be called in his-
tory, he was known in camps and on the battle-field
under the nickname of Old Blood-and-Thunder. This
war-worn veteran, being now infirm with age and wounds,
and weary of the turmoil of a military life, and of the
roll of the drum and the clangor of the trumpet, that had
so long been ringing in his ears, had lately signified a
purpose of returning to his native valley, hoping to find
repose where he remembered to have left it. The in-
habitants, his old neighbors and their grown-up children,
were resolved to welcome the renowned warrior with a
salute of cannon and a public dinner ; and all the more
enthusiastically, it being affirmed that now, at last, the
likeness of the Great Stone Face had actually appeared.
An aid-de-camp of Old Blood-and-Thunder, travelling
through the valley, was said to have been struck with
the resemblance. Moreover the schoolmates and early
acquaintances of the general were ready to testify, on
oath, that, to the best of their recollection, the aforesaid
general had been exceedingly like the majestic image,
even when a boy, only that the idea had never occurred
to them at that period. Great, therefore, was the excite-
ment throughout the valley ; and many people, who had
never once thought of glancing at the Great Stone Face
for years before, now spent their time in gazing at it, for
the sake of knowing exactly how General Blood-and-
Thunder looked.
On the day of the great festival, Ernest, with all the
other people of the valley, left their work, and proceeded
to the spot where the sylvan banquet was prepared. As
he approached, the loud voice of the Rev. Dr. Battleblast
was heard, beseeching a blessing on the good things set
before them, and on the distinguished friend of peace
The Great Stone Face 301
in whose honor they were assembled. The tables were
arranged in a cleared space of the woods, shut in by the
surrounding trees, except where a vista opened eastward,
and afforded a distant view of the Great Stone Face.
Over the general's chair, which was a relic from the home
of Washington, there was an arch of verdant boughs, with
the laurel profusely intermixed, and surmounted by his
country's banner, beneath which he had won his victo-
ries. Our friend Ernest raised himself on his tiptoes,
in hopes to get a glimpse of the celebrated guest ; but
there was a mighty, crowd about the tables anxious to
hear the toasts and speeches, and to catch any word
that might fall from the general in reply ; and a volun-
teer company, doing duty as a guard, pricked ruthlessly
with their bayonets at any particularly quiet person among
the throng. So Ernest, being of an unobtrusive char-
acter, was thrust quite into the background, where he
could see no more of Old Blood-and-Thunder's physiog-
nomy than if it had been still blazing on the battle-field.
To console himself, he turned towards the Great Stone
Face, which, like a faithful and long-remembered friend,
looked back and smiled upon him through the vista ot
the forest. Meantime, however, he could overhear the
remarks of various individuals, who were comparing
the features of the hero with the face on the distant
mountain-side.
" 'T is the same face, to a hair ! " cried one man, cut-
ting a caper for joy,
" Wonderfully like, that *s a fact ! " responded another.
" Like ! why, I call it Old Blood-and-Thunder him-
self, in a monstrous looking-glass ! " cried a third. *' And
why not ? He 's the greatest man of this or any other
age, beyond a doubt."
And then all three of the speakers gave a great shout,
302 Greatest Short Stories
which communicated electricity to the crowd, and called
forth a roar from a thousand voices, that went reverber-
ating for miles among the mountains, until you might
have supposed that the Great Stone Face had poured its
thunder-breath into the cry. All these comments, and
this vast enthusiasm, served the more to interest our
friend ; nor did he think of questioning that now, at
length, the mountain-visage had found its human coun-
terpart. It is true, Ernest had imagined that this long-
looked-for personage would appear in the character of
a man of peace, uttering wisdom, and doing good, and
making people happy. But, taking an habitual breadth
of view, with all his simpUcity, he contended that Provi-
dence should choose its own method of blessing man-
kind, and could conceive that this great end might be
effected even by a warrior and a bloody sword, should
inscrutable wisdom see fit to order matters so.
"The general! the general!" was now the cry.
" Hush ! silence ! Old Blood-and-Thunder 's going to
make a speech."
Even so ; for, the cloth being removed, the general's
health had been drunk amid shouts of applause, and he
now stood upon his feet to thank the company. Ernest
saw him. There he was, over the shoulders of the crowd,
from the two glittering epaulets and embroidered collar
upward, beneath the arch of green boughs with inter-
twined laurel, and the banner drooping as if to shade
his brow ! And there, too, visible in the same glance,
through the vista of the forest, appeared the Great Stone
Face ! And was there, indeed, such a resemblance as
the crowd had testified ? Alas, Ernest could not recog-
nize it ! He beheld a war-worn and weather-beaten
countenance, full of energy, and expressive of an iron
will; but the gentle wisdom, the deep, broad, tender
The Great Stone Face 303
sympathies, were altogether wanting in Old Blood-and-
Thunder's visage ; and even if the Great Stone Face had
assumed his look of stern command, the milder traits
would still have tempered it.
" This is not the man of prophecy," sighed Ernest, to
himself, as he made his way out of the throng. <* And
must the world wait longer yet? "
The mists had congregated about the distant moun-
tain-side, and there were seen the grand and awful fea-
tures of the Great Stone Face, awful but benignant, as
if a mighty angel were sitting among the hills, and en-
robing himself in a cloud-vesture of gold and purple.
As he looked, Ernest could hardly believe but that a
smile beamed over the whole visage, with a radiance
still brightening, although without motion of the lips.
It was probably the effect of the western sunshine, melt-
ing through the thinly diffused vapors that had swept
between him and the object that he gazed at. But —
as it always did — the aspect of his marvellous friend
made Ernest as hopeful as if he had never hoped in
vain.
" Fear not, Ernest," said his heart, even as if the
Great Face were whispering him, — " fear not, Ernest ;
he will come."
More years sped swiftly and tranquilly away. Ernest
still dwelt in his native valley, and was now a man of
middle age. By imperceptible degrees, he had become
known among the people. Now, as heretofore, he la-
bored for his bread, and was the same simple-hearted
man that he had always been. But he had thought and
felt so much, he had given so many of the best hours of
his hfe to unworldly hopes for some great good to man-
kind, that it seemed as though he had been talking with
the angels, and had imbibed a portion of their wisdom
304 Greatest Short Stories
unawares. It was visible in the calm and well-consid-
ered beneficence of his daily life, the quiet stream of
which had made a wide green margin all along its course.
Not a day passed by, that the world was not the better
because this man, humble as he was, had lived. He
never stepped aside from his own path, yet would always
reach a blessing to his neighbor. Almost involuntarily,
too, he had become a preacher. The pure and high
simplicity of his thought, which, as one of its manifesta-
tions, took shape in the good deeds that dropped silently
from his hand, flowed also forth in speech. He uttered
truths that wrought upon and moulded the lives of those
who heard him. His auditors, it may be, never suspected
that Ernest, their own neighbor and familiar friend, was
more than an ordinary man ; least of all did Ernest him-
self suspect it ; but, inevitably as the murmur of a rivulet,
came thoughts out of his mouth that no other human lips
had spoken.
When the people's minds had had a little time to
cool, they were ready enough to acknowledge their
mistake in imagining a similarity between General Blood-
and-Thunder's truculent physiognomy and the benign
visage on the mountain-side. But now, again, there
were reports and many paragraphs in the newspapers,
affirming that the Hkeness of the Great Stone Face had
appeared upon the broad shoulders of a certain emi
nent statesman. He, like Mr. Gathergold and Old Blood-
and-Thunder, was a native of the valley, but had left it
in his early days, and taken up the trades of law and
politics. Instead of the rich man's wealth and the war-
rior's sword, he had but a tongue, and it was mightier
than both together. So wonderfully eloquent was he,
that whatever he might choose to say, his auditors had
no choice but to believe him ; wrong looked like right,
The Great Stone Face 305
and right like wrong ; for when it pleased him, he could
make a kind of illuminated fog with his mere breath,
and obscure the natural daylight with it. His tongue,
indeed, was a magic instrument : sometimes it rumbled
like the thunder ; sometimes it warbled like the sweetest
music. It was the blast of war, — the song of peace ;
and it seemed to have a heart in it, when there was no
such matter. In good truth, he was a wondrous man ;
and when his tongue had acquired him all other imagina-
ble success, — when it had been heard in halls of state,
and in the courts of princes and potentates, — after it
had made him known all over the world, even as a voice
crying from shore to shore, — it finally persuaded his
countrymen to select him for the Presidency. Before
this time, — indeed, as soon as he began to grow cele-
brated, — his admirers had found out the resemblance
between him and the Great Stone Face ; and so much
were they struck by it, that throughout the country this
distinguished gentleman was known by the name of Old
Stony Phiz. The phrase was considered as giving a
highly favorable aspect to his political prospects; for,
as is likewise the case with the Popedom, nobody ever
becomes President without taking a name other than his
own.
While his friends were doing their best to make him
President, Old Stony Phiz, as he was called, set out on a
visit to the valley where he was born. Of course, he had
no other object than to shake hands with his fellow-
citizens, and neither thought nor cared about any effect
which his progress through the country might have upon
the election. Magnificent preparations were made to
receive the illustrious statesman ; a cavalcade of horse-
men set forth to meet him at the boundary line of the
State, and all the people left their business and gathered
20
3o6 Greatest Short Stories
along the wayside to see him pass. Among these was
Ernest. Though more than once disappointed, as we
have seen, he had such a hopeful and confiding nature,
that he was always ready to believe in whatever seemed
beautiful and good. He kept his heart continually open,
and thus was sure to catch the blessing from on high,
when it should come. So now again, as buoyantly as
ever, he went forth to behold the likeness of the Great
Stone Face.
The cavalcade came prancing along the road, with a
great clattering of hoofs and a mighty cloud of dust,
which rose up so dense and high that the visage of the
mountain-side was completely hidden from Ernest's eyes.
All the great men of the neighborhood were there on
horseback : militia officers, in uniform ; the member of
Congress ; the sheriff of the county ; the editors of news-
papers ; and many a farmer, too, had mounted his pa-
tient steed, with his Sunday coat upon his back. It
really was a very brilliant spectacle, especially as there
were numerous banners flaunting over the cavalcade, on
some of which were gorgeous portraits of the illustrious
statesman and the Great Stone Face, smiling familiarly
at one another, like two brothers. If the pictures were
to be trusted, the mutual resemblance, it must be con-
fessed, was marvellous. We must riot forget to mention
that there was a band of music, which made the echoes
of the mountains ring and reverberate with the loud
triumph of its strains; so that airy and soul-thrilling
melodies broke out among all the heights and hollows,
as if every nook of his native valley had found a voice,
to welcome the distinguished guest. But the grandest
effect was when the far-off mountain precipice flung
back the music ; for then the Great Stone Face itself
seemed to be swelling the triumphant chorus, in ac-
The Great Stone Face 307
knowledgment that, at length, the man of prophecy
was come.
All this while the people were throwing up their hats
and shouting, with enthusiasm so contagious that the
heart of Ernest kindled up, and he likewise threw up
his hat, and shouted, as loudly as the loudest, " Huzza
for the great man ! Huzza for Old Stony Phiz ! " But
as yet he had not seen him.
" Here he is, now ! " cried those who stood near Er-
nest. " There ! There ! Look at Old Stony Phiz and
then at the Old Man of the Mountain, and see if they
are not as like as two twin-brothers ! "
In the midst of all this gallant array, came an open
barouche, drawn by four white horses ; and in the ba-
rouche, with his massive head uncovered, sat the illustri-
ous statesman. Old Stony Phiz himself.
"Confess it," said one of Ernest's neighbors to him,
" the Great Stone Face has met its match at last ! "
Now, it must be owned that, at his first glimpse of the
countenance which was bowing and smiling from the
barouche, Ernest did fancy that there was a resemblance
between it and the old familiar face upon the mountain-
side. The brow, with its massive depth and loftiness,
and all the other features, indeed, were boldly and
strongly hewn, as if in emulation of a more than heroic,
of a Titanic model. But the sublimity and stateliness,
the grand expression of a divine sympathy, that illumi-
nated the mountain visage, and etherealized its ponder-
ous granite substance into spirit, might here be sought
in vain. Something had been originally left out, or had
departed. And therefore the marvellously gifted states-
man had always a weary gloom in the deep caverns of
his eyes, as of a child that has outgrown its playthings,
or a man of mighty faculties and little aims, whose life^
3o8 Greatest Short Stories
with all its high performances, was vague and empty,
because no high purpose had endowed it with reality.
Still, Ernest's neighbor was thrusting his elbow into
his side, and pressing him for an answer.
" Confess ! confess ! Is not he the very picture of
your Old Man of the Mountain? "
*• No ! " said Ernest, bluntly, *' I see little or no
likeness."
*' Then so much the worse for the Great Stone Face ! "
answered his neighbor ; and again he set up a shout for
Old Stony Phiz.
But Ernest turned away, melancholy, and almost
despondent : for this was the saddest of his disappoint-
ments, to behold a man who might have fulfilled the
prophecy, and had not willed to do so. Meantime, the
cavalcade, the banners, the music, and the barouches
swept past him, with the vociferous crowd in the rear,
leaving the dust to settle down, and the Great Stone
Face to be revealed again, with the grandeur that it had
worn for untold centuries.
" Lo, here I am, Ernest ! " the benign lips seemed to'
say. " I have waited longer than thou, and am not yet
weary. Fear not ; the man will come."
The years hurried onward, treading in their haste on
one another's heels. And now they began to bring
white hairs, and scatter them over the head of Ernest ;
they made reverend wrinkles across his forehead, and
furrows in his cheeks. He was an aged man. But not
in vain had he grown old : more than the white hairs on
his head were the sage thoughts in his mind ; his wrinkles
and furrows were inscriptions that Time had graved, and
in which he had written legends of wisdom that had been
tested by the tenor of a Hfe. And Ernest had ceased
to be obscure. Unsought for, undesired, had come the
The Great Stone Face 309
fame which so many seek, and made him known in the
great world, beyond the limits of the valley in which
he had dwelt so quietly. College professors, and even
the active men of cities, came from far to see and con-*
verse with Ernest ; for the report had gone abroad that
this simple husbandman had ideas unlike those of other
men, not gained from books, but of a higher tone, — a
tranquil and familiar majesty, as if he had been talking
with the angels as his daily friends. Whether it were
sage, statesman, or philanthropist, Ernest received these
visitors with the gentle sincerity that had characterized
him from boyhood, and spoke freely with them of what-
ever came uppermost, or lay deepest in his heart or
their own. While they talked together, his face would
kindle, unawares, and shine upon them, as with a mild
evening light. Pensive with the fulness of such dis-
course, his guests took leave and went their way ; and
passing up the valley, paused to look at the Great Stone
Face, imagining that they had seen its likeness in a
human countenance, but could not remember where.
While Ernest had been growing up and growing old,
a bountiful Providence had granted a new poet to this
earth. He, likewise, was a native of the valley, but had
spent the greater part of his life at a distance from that
romantic region, pouring out his sweet music amid the
bustle and din of cities. Often, however, did the moun-
tains which had been familiar to him in his childhood
lift their snowy peaks into the clear atmosphere of his
poetry. Neither was the Great Stone Face forgotten,
for the poet had celebrated it in an ode, which was
grand enough to have been uttered by its own majestic
lips. This man of genius, we may say, had come down
from heaven with wonderful endowments. If he sang
of a mountain, the eyes of all mankind beheld a mightier
3IO Greatest Short Stories
grandeur reposing on its breast, or soaring to its summit,
than had before been seen there. If his theme were a
lovely lake, a celestial smile had now been thrown over
it, to gleam forever on its surface. If it were the vast
old sea, even the deep immensity of its dread bosom
seemed to swell the higher, as if moved by the emotions
of the song. Thus the world assumed another and a
better aspect from the hour that the poet blessed it with
his happy eyes. The Creator had bestowed him, as the
last best touch to his own handiwork. Creation was
not finished till the poet came to interpret, and so com-
plete it.
The effect was no less high and beautiful, when his
human brethren were the subject of his verse. The man
or woman, sordid with the common dust of Hfe, who
crossed his daily path, and the little child who played in
it, were glorified if he beheld them in his mood of poetic
faith. He showed the golden links of the great chain
that intertwined them with an angelic kindred; he
brought out the hidden traits of a celestial birth that
made them worthy of such kin. Some, indeed, there
were, who thought to show the soundness of their judg-
ment by affirming that all the beauty and dignity of the
natural world existed only in the poet's fancy. Let such
men speak for themselves, who undoubtedly appear to
have been spawned forth by Nature with a contemptuous
bitterness; she having plastered them, up out of her
refuse stuff, after all the swine were made. As respects
all things else, the poet's ideal was the truest truth.
The songs of this poet found their way to Ernest. He
read them after his customary toil, seated on the bench
before his cottage-door, where for such a length of time
he had filled his repose with thought, by gazing at the
Great Stone Face. And now as he read stanzas that
The Great Stone Face 311
caused the soul to thrill within him, he lifted his eyes
to the vast countenance beaming on him so benignantly.
"O majestic friend," he murmured, addressing the
Great Stone Face, " is not this man worthy to resemble
thee?"
The Face seemed to smile, but answered not a word.
Now it happened that the poet, though he dwelt so
far away, had not only heard of Ernest, but had medi-
tated much upon his character, until he deemed nothing
so desirable as to meet this man, whose untaught wis-
dom walked hand in hand with the noble simplicity of
his Hfe. One summer morning, therefore, he took pas-
sage by the railroad, and, in the decHne of the afternoon,
alighted from the cars at no great distance from Ernest's
cottage. The great hotel, which had formerly been the
palace of Mr. Gathergold, was close at hand, but the
poet, with his carpet-bag on his arm, inquired at once
where Ernest dwelt, and was resolved to be accepted
as his guest.
Approaching the door, he there found the good old
man, holding a volume in his hand, which alternately he
read, and then, with a finger between the leaves, looked
lovingly at the Great Stone Face.
" Good evening," said the poet. " Can you give a
trav^eller a night's lodging?"
"Willingly," answered Ernest; and then he added,
smiling, '' Methinks I never saw the Great Stone Face
look so hospitably at a stranger."
The poet sat down on the bench beside him, and he
and Ernest talked together. Often had the poet held
intercourse with the wittiest and the wisest, but never
before with a man like Ernest, whose thoughts and feel-
ings gushed up with such a natural freedom, and who
made great truths so familiar by his simple utterance 0/
312 Greatest Short Stories
them. Angels, as had been so often said, seemed to
have wrought with him at his labor in the fields ; angels
seemed to have sat with him by the fireside ; and, dwell-
ing with angels as friend with friends, he had imbibed
the sublimity of their ideas, and imbued it with the sweet
and lowly charm of household words. So thought the
poet. And Ernest, on the other hand, was moved and
agitated by the living images which the poet flung out
of his mind, and which peopled all the air about the
cottage-door with shapes of beauty, both gay and pensive.
The sympathies of these two men instructed them with
a profounder sense than either could have attained alone.
Their minds accorded into one strain, and made delight-
ful music which neither of them could have claimed as
all his own, nor distinguished his own share from the
other's. They led one another, as it were, into a high
pavilion of their thoughts, so remote, and hitherto so
dim, that they had never entered it before, and so beau-
tiful that they desired to be there always.
As Ernest listened to the poet, he imagined that the
Great Stone Face was bending forward to listen too.
He gazed earnestly into the poet's glowing eyes.
" Who are you, my strangely gifted guest ? " he said.
The poet laid his finger on the volume that Ernest
had been reading.
" You have read these poems," said he. " You know
me, then, — for I wrote them."
Again, and still more earnestly than before, Ernest
examined the poet's features ; then turned towards the
Great Stone Face ; then back, with an uncertain aspect,
to his guest. But his countenance fell ; he shook his
head, and sighed.
" Wherefore are you sad? " inquired the poet.
" Because," replied Ernest, ** all through life I have
The Great Stone Face 313
awaited the fulfilment of a prophecy ; and, when I read
these poems, I hoped that it might be fulfilled in you."
" You hoped," answered the poet, faintly smiling, " to
find in me the likeness of the Great Stone Face. And
you are disappointed, as formerly with Mr. Gathergold,
and Old Blood-and-Thunder, and Old Stony Phiz. Yes,
Ernest, it is my doom. You must add my name to the
illustrious three, and record another failure of your
hopes. For — in shame and sadness do I speak it,
Ernest — I am not worthy to be typified by yonder
benign and majestic image."
"And why?" asked Ernest. He pointed to the
volume. "Are not those thoughts divine?"
"They have a strain of the Divinity," repUed the
poet. " You can hear in them the far-off echo of a
heavenly song. But my life, dear Ernest, has not cor-
responded with my thought. I have had grand dreams,
but they have been only dreams, because I have lived
— and that, too, by my own choice — among poor and
mean realities. Sometimes even — shall I dare to say
it ? — I lack faith in the grandeur, the beauty, and the
goodness, which my own works are said to have made
more evident in nature and in human life. Why, then,
pure seeker of the good and true, shouldst thou hope to
find me, in yonder image of the divine? "
The poet spoke sadly, and his eyes were dim with
tears. So, likewise, were those of Ernest.
At the hour of sunset, as had long been his frequent
custom, Ernest was to discourse to an assemblage of the
neighboring inhabitants in the open air. He and the
poet, arm in arm, still talking together as they went
along, proceeded to the spot. It was a small nook
among the hills, with a gray precipice behind, the stern
front of which was relieved by the pleasant foliage of
314 Greatest Short Stories
many creeping plants, that made a tapestry for the
naked rock, by hanging their festoons from all its rugged
angles. At a small elevation above the ground, set in
a rich framework of verdure, there appeared a niche,
spacious enough to admit a human figure, with freedom
for such gestures as spontaneously accompany earnest
thought and genuine emotion. Into this natural pulpit
Ernest ascended, and threw a look of familiar kindness
around upon his audience. They stood, or sat, or re-
clined upon the grass, as seemed good to each, with the
departing sunshine falling obliquely over them, and
mingHng its subdued cheerfulness with the solemnity of
a grove of ancient trees, beneath and amid the boughs
of which the golden rays were constrained to pass. In
another direction was seen the Great Stone Face, with
the same cheer, combined with the same solemnity, in
its benignant aspect.
Ernest began to speak, giving to the people of what
was in his heart and mind. His words had power,
because they accorded with his thoughts ; and his
thoughts had reality and depth, because they harmonized
with the life which he had always lived. It was not
mere breath that this preacher uttered ; they were the
words of life, because a life of good deeds and holy love
was melted into them. Pearls, pure and rich, had been
dissolved into this precious draught. The poet, as he
listened, felt that the being and character of Ernest were
a nobler strain of poetry than he had ever written. His
eyes glistening with tears, he gazed reverentially at the
venerable man, and said within himself that never was
there an aspect so worthy of a prophet and a sage as that
mild, sweet, thoughtful countenance, with the glory of
white hair diffused about it. At a distance, but dis-
tinctly to be seen, high up in the golden light of the
The Great Stone Face 315
setting sun, appeared the Great Stone Face, with hoary
mists around it, like the white hairs around the brow
of Ernest. Its look of grand beneficence seemed to
embrace the world.
At that moment, in sympathy with a thought which
he was about to utter, the face of Ernest assumed a
grandeur of expression, so imbued with benevolence,
that the poet, by an irresistible impulse, threw his arms
aloft, and shouted, — •
*' Behold ! Behold ! Ernest is himself the likeness of
the Great Stone Face ! "
Then all the people looked, and saw that what the
deep-sighted poet said was true. The prophecy was
fulfilled. But Ernest, having finished what he had to
say, took the poet's arm, and walked slowly homeward,
still hoping that some wiser and better man than himself
would by and by appear, bearing a resemblance to the
Great Stone Face.
X
THE NECKLACE. THE STRING
THE NECKLACE. THE STRING
By guy DE MAUPASSANT
INTRODUCTORY
THE WELL-BALANCED SHORT STORY
THE legitimate successor of Poe as an in-
ventor and constructor of short stories
is Guy de Maupassant, who carried the
art well-nigh to perfection. It is said that he re-
ceived a most careful training at the hands of
Flaubert, his uncle, and was not allowed to pub-
lish anything for the space of seven years, when
" Boule de Suif " made its appearance in a volume
of short stories by the younger French writers,
edited by Zola. This single story made Maupas-
sant's reputation, and in only one or two cases did
he surpass or even equal it in his subsequent work.
His two masterpieces are this story and *' La
Maison Tellier," but both are the stories of pros-
titutes and unsuitable for English translation.
Not far behind them stands "The String;" and
no story illustrates Maupassant's art better than
" The Necklace." Both are very short, and so
better illustrative of his most striking character-
istic than either of the stories mentioned above.
Had Maupassant possessed Hawthorne's loftiness
320 Greatest Short Stories
of character and Poe's breadth of understanding
he would unquestionably have been our supreme
artist in the short story. As it is he illustrates
the possibilities of art triumphant over littleness
of soul and narrowness of mind. He deliberately
chooses the most insignificant incidents and the
slightest possible problems of life, and makes
them supremely interesting. It is difficult to
conceive of any greater triumph of mere art.
It is true that Maupassant's method is artificial,
and any attempt at direct imitation of him would
no doubt prove disastrous. But for the critical
student seeking to penetrate the principles which
govern the art of short story writing, no stories
will so well repay careful study as his.
It will be of interest to state briefly the char-
acteristics of a short story as we find them in
Maupassant.
First, in order to construct a short story we
must have a central idea which comes to us from
real life. Formerly the whole story, nearly, was
taken from life: in Maupassant very little of it is
a mere discovery, but on that little a great deal
depends. That a woman should lose a diamond
necklace, work ten years to pay for it, and then
discover that it was paste, is but a new form of a
very old situation, and one that is constantly re-
curring in everyday life ; but it is striking.
Given our central idea, how shall we develop it?
Maupassant begins "The Necklace " thus : "She
was one of those pretty and charming girls who
The Necklace. The String 321
are sometimes, as if by a mistake of destiny, born
in a family of clerks." We must choose a charac-
ter best adapted to illustrating, by his or her life,
the effect of our central idea. It is not necessary
here to give all the reasons why Maupassant chose
the particular character he did for this story, for
many of them are sufficiently obvious. In writing
the story he begins by describing her, and devotes
fully three hundred of his brief eighteen hundred
words to this description. He tells how she dressed,
what sort of things she had in the house, what
sort of man her husband was, what they had for
dinner, her dreams and hopes. And all the rest of
the story is about this woman, what happened to
her, how she was delighted and disappointed. Her
husband is hardly mentioned after the first. It
is a story about this woman who has interested
you, and everything is omitted but that which
affects her life.
In the course of the story we note that the event
permanently changes the course of the life of the
central character. Here we may note that in every
story that is technically a " short story " the inter-
est centres on but one character, and the event of
the story must permanently alter the course of life
of that character. The lives of other persons also
may be altered, but they are referred to in the
story only so far as they have relations to the
central character, and are necessary to a proper
presentation of that character. Herein is the dif V
ference between a novel and a short story, — at /
32 2 Greatest Short Stories
least between a short story and a novel developed
according to the laws of the drama : a short story
has but one character whose life (either physical
or mental) is materially altered by the event, while
a novel represents the collision of several charac-
ters who alter each other's lives.
The event is highly dramatic, and though fore-
shadowed and prepared for throughout, comes as
a surprise. Much of the interest and effect of the
story depends on this surprise, which nevertheless
appears to be the most natural and logical out-
come of the story. An unnatural event produces
no effect. An unexpected catastrophe, which at
the same time appears perfectly natural, forces the
mind to reflect on the moral or intellectual prob-
lem presented. After reading *' The Necklace "
we spontaneously ejaculate, ** Oh, the irony of
fate ! " and this ejaculation, unexpressed in the
story, but inevitable on the part of the reader,
constitutes the moral of the tale. The reader will
observe the superior art which points the moral
without expressing it. In order, to have interest,
a story must have some relation to the reflec-
tions or experiences of the reader. Success de-
pends largely on understanding the reader's life,
and nicely adapting the story to the solution of
the reader's doubts or stimulating the mind to
new reflections.
One point remains to be noted. Dramatic
strength is always attained by sudden and strik-
ing contrasts. In ** The Necklace," notice the
The Necklace 323
striking contrast in the latter part of the story
between what Madame Loisel actually did and
what in the first part of the story she wanted to
do. She wanted luxuries, servants, a fine house;
but she dismissed the servant she had, and rented
a garret under the roof. Each fact in the last
part is matched with a corresponding dream in
the first part. Then at the end of the story her
friend, who is rich and still remains young, with
smooth, white hands, is brought face to face with
madame, who has grown coarse and rough. The
use. of contrast is constant and extreme, and the
dramatic strength gained is corresponding.
The reader will take interest in analyzing ** The
String " in the same way, and noting how closely
similar is the method of its construction. The
elements pointed out above will be found in
varying proportions in all completely artistic
short stories. .
THE NECKLACE
SHE was one of those pretty and charming girls who,
as if by a mistake of destiny, are born in a family
of clerks. She had no dowry, no expectations, no
means of becoming known, understood, loved, wedded
by any rich and distinguished man ; and so she let
herself be married to a petty clerk in the Bureau of
Public Instruction.
She was simple in her dress because she could not be
elaborate, but she was as unhappy as if she had fallen
from a higher rank, for with women there is no distinc-
324 Greatest Short Stories
tion of higher and lower : their beauty, their grace, and
their natural charm fill the place of birth and family.
Natiiral delicacy, instinctive elegance, a lively wit, are the
ruling forces in the social realm, and make daughters of
the common people the equals of the finest ladies.
She suffered ceaselessly, feeling herself born for all the
refinements and luxuries of life. She suffered from the
poverty of her home as she looked at the dirty walls,
the worn-out chairs, the ugly curtains. All those things
of which another woman of her station would have been
quite unconscious tortured her and made her indignant.
The sight of the country girl who was maid-of-all-works in
her humble household filled her almost with desperation.
She dreamed of echoing halls hung with Oriental
draperies and lighted by tall bronze candelabra, while
two tall footmen in knee-breeches drowsed in great
armchairs by reason of the heating stove's oppressive
warmth. She dreamed of splendid parlors furnished in
rare old silks, of carved cabinets loaded with priceless
curiosities, and of entrancing little boudoirs just right
for afternoon chats with bosom friends — men famous
and sought after, the envy and the desire of all the other
women.
When she sat down to dinner at a little table covered
with a cloth three days old, and looked across at her hus-
band as he uncovered the soup and exclaimed with an
air of rapture, " Oh, the delicious stew ! I know nothing
better than that," she dreamed of dainty dinners, of
shining silverware, of tapestries which peopled the walls
with antique figures and strange birds in fairy forests ;
she dreamed of delicious viands served in wonderful
dishes, of whispered gallantries heard with a sphinx-like
smile as you eat the pink flesh of a trout or the wing of
a bird
The Necklace 325
She had no dresses, no jewels, nothing; and she
loved only that, she felt made for that. She was filled
with a desire to please, to be envied, to be bewitching
and sought after. She had a rich friend, a former
schoolmate at the convent, whom she no longer wished
to visit because she suffered so much when she came
home. For whole days at a time she wept without ceas-
ing in bitterness and hopeless misery.
Now, one evening her husband came home with a
triumphant air, holding in his hand a large envelope.
"There," said he, *' there is something for you."
She quickly tore open the paper and drew out a
printed card, bearing these words ; —
"The Minister of Public Instruction and Mme.
Georges Rampouneau request the honor of M. and
Mme. Loisel's company at the palace of the Ministry,
Monday evening, January i8ith."
Instead of being overcome with delight, as her hus-
band expected, she threw the invitation on the table
with disdain, murmuring :
" What do you wish me to do with that ? "
"Why, my dear, I thought you would be pleased.
You never go out, and it is such a fine opportunity,
this ! I had awful trouble in getting it. Every one
wants to go ; it is very select, and they are not giving
many invitations to clerks. You will see the whole
official world."
She looked at him with irritation, and said, impatiently :
" What do you wish me to put on my back if I go ? "
He had not thought of that. He stammered :
" Why, the dress you go to the theatre in. It seems
all right to me."
He stopped, stupefied, distracted, on seeing that his
326 Greatest Short Stories
wife was crying. Two great tears descended slowly from
the corners of her eyes toward the corners of her mouth.
He stuttered :
" What 's the matter? What 's the matter? "
By a violent effort she subdued her feelings and re-
plied in a calm voice, as she wiped her wet cheeks :
" Nothing. Only I have no dress and consequently
I cannot go to this ball. Give your invitation to some
friend whose wife is better equipped than I."
He was in despair. He replied :
" Let us see, Mathilde. How much would it cost, a
suitable dress, which you could wear again on future
occasions, something very simple?"
She reflected for some seconds, computing the cost^
and also wondering what sum she could ask without
bringing down upon herself an immediate refusal and an
astonished exclamation from the economical clerk.
At last she answered hesitatingly :
" I don't know exactly, but it seems to me that with
four hundred francs I could manage."
He turned a trifle pale, for he had been saving just
that sum to buy a gun and treat himself to a little hunt-
ing the following summer, in the country near Nanterre,
with a few friends who went there to shoot larks of a
Sunday. . '
However, he said :
" Well, I think I can give you four hundred francs.
But see that you have a pretty dress."
The day of the ball drew near, and Madame Loisel
seemed sad, unhappy, anxious. Her dress was ready,
however. Her husband said to her one evening :
"What is the matter? Come, you've been looking
queer these last three days."
The Necklace 327
And she replied :
" It worries me that I have no jewels, not a single
stone, nothing to put on. I shall look wretched enough.
I would almost rather not go to this party."
He answered :
" You might wear natural flowers. They are very
fashionable this season. For ten francs you can get two
or three magnificent roses."
She was not convinced.
" No ; there is nothing more humiliating than to look
poor among women who are rich."
But her husband cried :
" How stupid of you ! Go and find your friend Ma-
dame Forestier and ask her to lend you some jewels.
You are intimate enough with her for that."
She uttered a cry of joy.
" Of course. I had not thought of that."
The next day she went to her friend's house and told
her distress.
Madame Forestier went to her handsome wardrobe,
took out a large casket, brought it back, opened it, and
said to Madame Loisel :
" Choose, my dear."
She saw first of all some bracelets, then a pearl neck-
lace, then a Venetian cross, gold and precious stones
of wonderful workmanship. She tried on the ornaments
before the glass, hesitated, could not make up her mind
to part with them, to give them back. She kept asking :
" You have nothing else? "
** Why, yes. See, I do not know what will please
you."
All at once she discovered, in a black satin box, a
splendid diamond necklace, and her heart began to beat
with immoderate desire. Her hands trembled as she
328 Greatest Short Stories
took it. She fastened it around her throat, over hei
high-necked dress, and stood lost in ecstasy as she looked
at herself.
Then she asked, hesitating, full of anxiety :
*' Would you lend me that, — only that? "
** Why, yes, certainly."
She sprang upon the neck of her friend, embraced her
rapturously, then fled with her treasure.
The day of the ball arrived. Madame Loisel was a
success. She was prettier than all the others, elegant,
gracious, smiling, and crazy with joy. All the men stared
at her, asked her name, tried to be introduced. All the
cabinet officials wished to waltz with her. The minister
noticed her.
She danced with intoxication, with passion, made
drunk with pleasure, forgetting all in the triumph of her
beauty, in the glory of her success, in a sort of mist of
happiness, the result of all this homage, all this admira-
tion, all these awakened desires, this victory so complete
and so sweet to the heart of woman.
She left about four o'clock in the morning. Her hus-
band had been sleeping since midnight in a little deserted
anteroom with three other gentlemen, whose wives were
having a good time.
He threw about her shoulders the wraps which he had
brought for her to go out in, the modest wraps of com-
mon life, whose poverty contrasted sharply with the ele-
gance of the ballroom toilet. She felt this and wished
to escape, that she might not be noticed by the other
women who were enveloping themselves in costly furs.
Loisel held her back.
" Wait here, you will catch cold outside. I will go
and find a cab."
The Necklace 329
But she would not listen to him, and rapidly descended
the stairs. When they were at last in the street, they
could find no carriage, and began to look for one, cry-
ing after the cabmen they saw passing at a distance.
They walked down toward the Seine in despair, shiver-
ing with the cold. At last they found on the quay one
of those ancient nocturnal coupes that one sees in Paris
only after dark, as if they were ashamed to display their
wretchedness during the day.
They were put down at their door in the Rue des Mar-
tyrs, and sadly mounted the steps to their apartments.
It was all over, for her. And as for him, he reflected
that he must be at his office at ten o'clock.
She took off the wraps which enveloped her shoulders
before the glass, to take a final look at herself in all her
glory. But suddenly she uttered a cry. She no longer
had the necklace about her neck !
Her husband, already half undressed, inquired :
♦'What is the matter?"
She turned madly toward him.
" I have — I have — 1 no longer have Madame Fores-
tier's necklace."
He stood up, distracted.
" What ! — how ! — it is impossible ! "
They looked in the folds of her dress, in the folds of
her cloak, in the pockets, everywhere. They could not
find a trace of it.
He asked :
*' You are sure you still had it when you left the ball? "
" Yes. I felt it in the vestibule at the palace."
" But if you had lost it in the street we should have
heard it fall. It must be in the cab."
" Yes. That 's probably it. Did you take the num-
ber?"
330 Greatest Short Stories
" No. And you, you did not notice it? "
" No."
They looked at each other thunderstruck. At last
Loisel put on his clothes again.
" I am going back," said he, " over every foot of the
way we came, to see if I shall not find it."
So he started. She remained in her ball dress without
strength to go to bed, sitting on a chair, with no fire,
her mind a blank.
Her husband returned about seven o'clock. He had
found nothing.
He went to police headquarters, to the newspapers
to offer a reward, to the cab companies, everywhere, in
short, where a suspicion of hope led him.
She watched all day, in the same state of blank despair
before this frightful disaster.
Loisel returned in the evening with cheeks hollow and
pale ; he had found nothing.
" You must write to your friend," said he, " that you
have broken the clasp of her necklace and that you are
having it repaired. It will give us time to turn around."
She wrote at his dictation.
. • • . . •
At the end of a week they had lost all hope.
And Loisel, looking five years older, declared :
" We must consider how to replace the ornament."
The next day they took the box which had contained
it, and went to the place of the jeweller whose name they
found inside. He consulted his books.
" It was not I, madame, who sold the necklace ; I must
simply have furnished the casket."
Then they went from jeweller to jeweller, looking for
an ornament like the other, consulting their memories,
both sick with chagrin and anguish.
The Necklace 331
They found, in a shop at the Palais- Royal, a string of
diamonds which seemed to them exactly what they were
looking for. It was worth forty thousand francs. They
could have it for thirty-six thousand.
So they begged the jeweller not to sell it for three
days. And they made an arrangement that he should
take it back for thirty-four thousand francs if the other
were found before the end of February.
Loisel had eighteen thousand francs which his father
had left him. He would borrow the rest.
He did borrow, asking a thousand francs of one, five
hundred of another, five louis here, three louis there.
He gave notes, made ruinous engagements, dealt with
usurers, with all the tribe of money-lenders. He com-
promised the rest of his life, risked his signature with-
out knowing if he might not be involving his honor,
and, terrified by the anguish yet to come, by the black
misery about to fall upon him, by the prospect of every
physical privation and every mental torture, he went to
get the new necklace, and laid down on the dealer's
counter thirty-six thousand francs.
When Madame Loisel took the ornament back to
Madame Forestier, the latter said coldly :
*' You should have returned it sooner, for I might
have needed it."
She did not open the case, to the relief of her friend.
If she had detected the substitution, what would she
have thought ? What would she have said ? Would she
have taken her friend for a thief?
Madame Loisel now knew the horrible life of the
needy; moreover, all at once she took her part
heroically. They must pay this frightful debt. She
would pay it. They disri^issed their maid, they gave
332 Greatest Short Stories
up their apartment, they rented another under the
roof.
She came to know the drudgery of housework, the
odious cares of the kitchen. She washed the dishes,
using her rosy nails on the greasy pots and the bottoms
of the saucepans. She washed the dirty linen, the shirts
and the dishcloths, which she hung to dry on a line ;
she carried the garbage down to the street every morn-
ing, and carried up the water, stopping at each landing
to rest. And, dressed like a woman of the people, she
went to the fruiterer's, the grocer's, the butcher's, her
basket on her arm, bargaining, abusing, defending sou by
sou her miserable money.
Each month they had to pay some notes, renew
others, obtain more time.
The husband worked evenings neatly footing up the
account books of some tradesman, and often far into
the night he sat copying manuscript at five sous a
page.
And this life lasted ten years.
At the end of ten years they had paid everything, —
everything, with the exactions of usury and the accumu-
lations of compound interest.
Madame Loisel seemed old now. She had become
the woman of impoverished households, — strong and
hard and rough. With hair half combed, with skirts
awry, and reddened hands, she talked loud as she
washed the floor with great swishes of water. But some-
times, when her husband was at the office, she sat down
near the window and thought of that evening at the
ball so long ago, when she had been so beautiful and
so feted.
What would have happened if she had not lost that
necklace ? Who knows, who knows ? How strange life
The Necklace 333
is, how changeful ! How little a thing is needed for us
to be lost or to be saved !
But one Sunday, as she was going for a walk in the
Champs Elysees to refresh herself after the labors of the
week, all at once she saw a woman walking with a child.
It was Madame Forestier, still young, still beautiful, still
charming.
Madame Loisel was agitated. Should she speak to
her? Why, of course. And now that she had paid,
she would tell her all. Why not?
She went up.
" Bonjour, Jeanne."
The other, astonished to be addressed so familiarly
by this woman of the people, did not recognize her.
She stammered :
" But — madame — I do not know you. You must
have made a mistake."
" No, I am Mathilde Loisel."
Her friend uttered a cry.
" Oh ! my poor Mathilde, how changed you are ! "
"Yes, I have had days hard enough since I saw
you, days wretched enough — and all because of you ! "
"Me? How so?"
" You remember that necklace of diamonds that you
lent me to wear to the ministerial ball?"
"Yes. Well?"
"Well, I lost it."
" How ? But you returned it to me."
" I returned to you another exactly like it. These
ten years we 've been paying for it. You know it was
not easy for us, who had nothing. At last it is over, and
I am very glad."
Madame Forestier stood staring at her.
334 Greatest Short Stones
" You say that you bought a necklace of diamonds to
replace mine?"
"Yes; you did not notice it, then? They were very
like."
And she smiled with a proud and naive pleasure.
Madame Forestier, deeply moved, took both her
hands.
" Oh, my poor Mathilde ! Why, my necklace was
paste. It was worth five hundred francs at most."
THE STRING
BY every road round Goderville the countrymen with
their wives were coming toward the town, for it was
market-day. The men plodded on, their bodies lurching
forward at every movement of their long twisted limbs,
which were deformed by hard work, — by holding the
plough, which throws up the left shoulder and twists the
figure ; by mowing grain, which forces out the knees in
the effort to stand quite steady ; in short, by all the ted-
ious and painful toil of the fields. Their blue blouses,
starched and shining as if they had been varnished, with
collar and cuffs stitched in a neat design, were inflated
about their bony forms, exactly like balloons ready to soar,
but putting forth a head, two arms, and two legs.
Some were leading a cow or a calf by a rope ; and, just
behind, their wives lashed the animal over the back with
a leafy branch, to hasten its pace. On their arms the
women carried large baskets, whence protruded the heads
of chickens or of ducks ; and they walked with shorter,
quicker steps than the men, their withered, upright fig-
ures wrapped in scanty little shawls pinned over their flat
breasts, their hair closely done up in white cloths, with a
cap above.
The String 335
Now a cart passed by, jerked along by an ambling nag ;
and queerly it shook up the two men sitting side by side
and a woman at the bottom of the vehicle, who held on to
the sides to ease the heavy jolting.
In the market-place at Goderville a crowd had gath-
ered, a mingled multitude of men and beasts. The horns
of the cattle, the tall, long-napped hats of the rich peas-
ants, and the head-dresses of the peasant women rose
above the surface of that living sea ; and the harsh, shrill,
squeaking voices made a continuous and savage roar ;
while at times there rose above it a burst of laughter from
the husky throat of an amused country fellow, or the long-
drawn moo of a cow tied to a wall.
It all smelled of the stable, of milk and dung, of hay
and sweat, emitting that pungent and disagreeable odor
of man and beast, which is peculiar to the inhabitants of
the fields.
Master Hauchecorne, of Br^aut^, had just arrived at
Goderville, and was making his way toward the market-
place when he saw on the ground a little piece of string.
Master Hauchecorne, economical like all true Normans,
considered everything worth picking up which might be
of use ; so he stooped painfully down, — for he suffered
from rheumatism, — took the bit of twine from the
ground, and was preparing to roll it up with care, when
he noticed Master Malandain the harness-maker on his
doorstep, looking at him. They had once had a differ-
ence in regard to a halter, and they remained angry, with
ill will on both sides. Master Hauchecorne was seized
with a feeling of shame at being caught thus by his en-
emy looking in the dirt for a piece of string. He hastily
concealed his find under his blouse, then in the pocket
of his trousers ; then he pretended still to be looking on
the ground for something he failed to find, and at last
33^ Greatest Short Stories
went away toward the market-place, his head thrust for-
ward, his body doubled up by his pains.
In a moment he was lost in the clamorous and slow-
moving crowd, agitated by its interminable bargains. The
peasants felt of the cows, went away, came back, per-
plexed and forever afraid of being cheated, never daring
to decide, eying the seller, always searching to discover
the tricks of the man and the defects of the beast.
The women had placed their great baskets at their
feet ; and they drew out their poultry and placed it
on the ground, where it lay with legs tied, scared eye,
and scarlet comb.
They listened to offers, dryly maintaining their price
with impassive countenance ; or, all at once deciding to
accept the proposed reduction, they cried out to the cus-
tomer who was slowly moving away :
" Oh, say, Mas' Anthime, I '11 let you have it."
Then little by little the market-place was emptied, and
when the Angelus sounded noon, those who lived at a dis-
tance scattered to the inns.
At Jourdain's the great dining-room was filled with
eaters, just as the vast court was filled with vehicles of
every kind — carts, gigs, wagons, tilburies, nameless tilt-
carts, yellow with mud, misshapen, patched, their shafts
pointing to the skies like two arms, or' else their noses to
the ground and their tails in the air.
Opposite the diners as they sat at table the fire burned
freely in the huge chimney, throwing out a lively warmth
upon the backs of the row upon the right. On three spits
chickens, pigeons, and legs of lamb were turning before
the fire ; and a savory odor of roast meat, and of gravy
streaming over its crisp, browned surface, floated up from
the hearth, kindUng the appetite till the mouth watered
for the viands.
The String 337
All the aristocracy of the plough were eating there with
Master Jourdain, innkeeper and horse-dealer, a knave
whose pockets were well lined.
The plates went round, and were emptied, as were the
jugs of yellow cider. Each told of his affairs, his bargains,
and his sales ; and all discussed the crops. The season
was good for vegetables, but a little wet for grain.
All at once the rub-a-dub of the drum sounded in the
court before the house. In a moment every man was
on his feet (save some of the more indifferent) and rushed
to door or windows, his mouth still full, and his napkin
in his hand.
After he had finished his tattoo, the public crier raised
his voice, launching his jerky phrases with pauses quite
out of place :
" Be it known to the inhabitants of Goderville, and in
general to all — persons present at the market, that there
has been lost this morning, on the road from Beuzeville,
between — nine and ten o'clpck, a black leather pocket-
book, containing five hundred francs and business papers.
You are requested to return it — to the mayor's office,
without delay, or to Master Fortune Houlbr^que, of
Manneville. There will be twenty francs reward."
Then the man went away. Far down the street the
muffled beating of the drum might have been heard, and
the faint voice of the crier repeating his announcement.
In a moment every one was talking of the incident,
discussing the chances Master Houlbr^que had of re-
covering or not recovering his pocketbook.
So the meal went on.
As they were draining their coffee cups, a px)lice officei
appeared on the threshold.
He asked :
" Is Master Hauchecorne, of Br6aut6, here ? "
333 Greatest Short Stories
Master Hauchecorne, who was seated at the opposite
end of the table, answered :
"That's me."
The officer replied :
" Master Hauchecorne, will you have the kindness to
accompany me to the office of the mayor? His honor,
the mayor, wishes to speak with you."
The farmer, surprised, disturbed, finished his glass at
a gulp, rose, and, even more bent than in the morning,
since the first steps after each period of rest were particu-
larly difficult, he started along, saying over and over :
" That 's me, that 's me."
So he followed the officer.
The mayor was waiting for him, seated in an armchair.
He was the notary of the district, a big, severe man,
pompous in his speech.
" Master Hauchecorne," said he, ** you were seen this
morning to pick up, on the road from Beuzeville, the
pocketbook lost by Master Houlbreque, of Manneville."
The old fellow stood looking at the mayor, speechless,
already terrified by the suspicion that rested upon him,
without in the least knowing why.
" Me, me ! I picked up that pocketbook?"
" Yes, you."
" Word of honor, I don't know nothing about it at
all."
" You were seen."
" Seen? Me? Who says he saw me? "
" M. Malandain, the harness-maker."
Then the old man remembered, understood ; and, red-
dening with anger, he said :
" Uh ! 'e saw me, did 'e, the rat ! 'E saw me pick
up this string here ; see here, your honor."
And, fumbling at the bottom of his pocket, he drew
out a little piece of twine.
The String 339
But the mayor incredulously shook his head.
" You will not make me believe, Master Hauchecorne,
that M. Malandain, who is a man of his word, has mis-
taken this string for a pocketbook."
The farmer, furious, raising his hand and spitting ^ to
attest his good faith, repeated :
" Nevertheless, it is the truth of the good God, the
solemn truth, your honor. There ! on my soul and
salvation, I swear it."
The mayor replied :
"After you had picked up the object, you even hunted
about a long time in the dust, to see if some piece of
money had not slipped out of it."
The good man was stifled with indignation and fear.
" How can they tell ! — how can they tell ! — such
lies as that to libel an honest man ! How can they tell ! "
He might protest : no one beheved him.
He was confronted with M. Malandain, who repeated
and sustained his declaration. They abused one another
for an hour. At his request, Master Hauchecorne was
searched. Nothing was found on him.
At last the mayor, much perplexed, sent him away,
warning him that he would lay the matter before the
court and ask for instructions.
The news had spread. On his leaving the mayor's
office, the old man was surrounded and questioned with
a curiosity that was serious or jesting, but into which no
indignation entered. And he proceeded to tell the story
of the string.
They did not believe him. They laughed.
He went along, stopped by every one, stopping his
acquaintances again and again, going all over his story
1 In England peasants spit on their hands and say, " S* 'elp me
Gawd."
340 Greatest Short Stories
and repeating his protestations, showing his pockets
turned inside out to prove there was nothing in them.
They said to him :
. " Go on, you old rogue ! "
And he grew angry, working himself into a fever,
desperate at not being believed, for he did not know
what to do, and kept telling his story over and over.
Night came on. It was time to go home. He set
out along the road with three of his neighbors, to
whom he showed the place where he had picked up
the bit of cord ; and all along the road he kept talk-
ing of the incident.
That evening he made the round in the village of
Br^aut^, to let everybody know. He told his story
only to the incredulous.
He was ill of it all night.
The next day, about one o'clock in the afternoon,
Marius Paumelle, a laborer on the farm of Master
Breton, gardener at Ymauville, returned the pocket-
book and its contents to Master Houlbreque of Manne-
ville.
This man's statement was to the effect that he had
found the thing on the road, but not knowing how to
read, he had carried it home and given it to his
master. ' /
The news spread. Master Hauchecorne was informed
of it. He started off at once, and immediately began
to retell the story as completed by the denouement.
He was triumphant.
" I di'n' care so much for the thing itself, you un-
derstand," said he, " but it was the He. There is noth-
ing nastier than being set down for a liar."
All day he talked of his adventure ; he told it on the
road to the people who passed, at the pdblic house to the
The String 341
people who drank, and the next Sunday to those who
gathered at the church. He even stopped strangers to
tell them about it. Now he felt easy, and yet something
troubled him, without his knowing exactly what. People
seemed to smile as they listened. They did not appear
convinced. He felt as if they babbled behind his
back.
On Tuesday of the following week he turned up at the
market at Goderville, sent there only by the need of tell-
ing his tale.
Malandain, standing in his doorway, began to laugh as
he saw him pass. Why ?
He accosted a farmer of Criquetot, who did not allow
him to finish, but, givmg him a tap in the pit of the
stomach, cried in his face :
" Go on, you old rogue ! " Then the fellow turned on
his heel.
Master Hauchecorne stood speechless, more unhappy
Ihan ever. Why did every one call him " old rogue " ?
When he sat down at the table at Jourdain's, he pro-
ceeded to explain the affair.
A horse-dealer of Montivilliers cried at him :
" Come, come, now, you old scamp, we know all about
you and your piece of string."
" But they found the pocketbook ! "
The other went on :
" Don't speak of it, daddy ; there is one who finds it
and one who takes it back. No one sees, no one knows ;
but you give yourself away."
The peasant sat dumbfounded ; he understood at last.
They accused him of having sent the pocketbook back
by a confederate, by an accomplice.
He tried to protest. Every one at the table began to
laugh.
342 Greatest Short Stories
He could not eat his dinner, and went away amid their
ridicule.
He went home, ashamed and indignant, choking with
rage, overcome with confusion, all the more in despair
that he was capable, with his Norman artfulness, of doing
that of which they accused him, and even of pluming
himself on it as a good trick. His innocence dimly
seemed to him impossible to prove, his trickiness being
so well known, and he felt struck to the heart by the
injustice of the suspicion.
Then he began again to tell of his adventure, adding
new arguments each time, more energetic protests, and
more solemn oaths which he thought out in his hours of
solitude, his mind being occupied with the story of the
string. People believed him the less, the more subtle
and complicated his argument became.
" Ha ! liar's proofs, those ! " they said behind his back.
He felt it ; it gnawed at his vitals ; he wore himself
out with useless efforts.
The jokers now made him tell *' The Story of the String "
for their amusement, as a soldier who has been on a
campaign is made to tell of the battle.
His mind, deeply affected, grew weak.
Toward the end of December he took to his bed.
He died early in January, and in the delirium of his
death agony he protested his innocence, repeating :
" A li'l' string, a liT string, — see, here it is, your
honor."
XI
THE MAN WHO WOULD BE
KING
THE MAN WHO WOULD BE
KING
By RUDYARD KIPLING
INTRODUCTORY
STRENGTH IN CONTRAST
IN spite of the greatness of Poe and Haw-
thorne, and the rise of the short story in
France, it was not until the advent of
KipHng in 1889 that the short story in EngHsh
became a recognized and popular vehicle for
presenting an author's special knowledge of life.
While short stories have always been indispens-
able to the magazines, a volume of short stories
on a variety of topics and kinds of life did not
have sufficient unity to hold the public interest
permanently. Kipling's success was due to the
fact that his stories presented a series of pictures
of a fresh and interesting kind of life. To some
extent they resembled chapters in a novel, and the
most popular volume, that of **' Soldiers Three,"
was confined to incidents in the lives of three men.
Such a unity in the subject-matter of the stories is
34^ Greatest Short Stories
essential to the large success of any volume of
short stories.
Kipling's artistic originality is confined almost
entirely to the style in which he writes. In our
study of Maupassant it was pointed out that the
secret of strength is contrast. Kipling uses this
not only in the construction of his stories, but
in the wording of every sentence ; almost every
phrase represents a striking, yet reasonable, in-
congruity, which acts as a continual stimulus upon
the imagination of the reader. Though a method,
a conscious device, it requires originality and force
of mind to prevent the incongruities from becom-
ing absurd, and to keep them perpetually sugges-
tive, as Kipling does. In this particular device
Kipling remains unsurpassed, though he has had
many imitators.
In spite of the presence of Carnehan, *' The Man
Who Would Be King" is the story of one man,
namely Dravot. These personages were selected
because of the violent contrast between their char-
acters as presented in the early part of the story
and their ambition to be kings. The central idea,
that such men may reasonably come so near to
being kings, is a great and striking one. The
moral is suggested in the motto, " Brother to a
Prince and fellow to a beggar if he be found
worthy." In the matter of final success, charac-
ter (personal worth) is all; social position (prince
or beggar), nothing. Dravot failed because of a
The Man Who Would Be King 347
weakness in his character, not because chance had
made him an outcast.
THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING
Brother to a Prince and fellow to a beggar if he be found worthy.
THE Law, as quoted, lays down a fair conduct of
life, and one not easy to follow. I have been
fellow to a beggar again and again under circumstances
which prevented either of us finding out whether the
other was worthy. I have still to be brother to a Prince,
though I once came near to kinship with what might
have been a veritable King and was promised the rever-
sion of a Kingdom — army, law-courts, revenue and policy
all complete. But, to-day, I greatly fear that my King is
dead, and if I want a crown I must go hunt it for myself.
The beginning of everything was in a railway train
upon the road to Mhow from Ajmir. There had been
a Deficit in the Budget, which necessitated travelling,
not Second-class, which is only half as dear as First-
class, but by Intermediate, which is very awful indeed.
There are no cushions in the Intermediate class, and the
population are either Intermediate, which is Eurasian,
or native, which for a long night journey is nasty, or
Loafer, which is amusing though intoxicated. Inter-
mediates do not buy from refreshment-rooms. They
carry their food in bundles and pots, and buy sweets
from the native sweetmeat- sellers, and drink the road-
side water. That is why in hot weather Intermediates
are taken out of the carriages dead, and in all weathers
are most properly looked down upon.
My particular Intermediate happened to be empty till
I reached Nasirabad, when a big black-browed gentle-
348 Greatest Short Stories
man in shirt-sleeves entered, and, following the custom
of Intermediates, passed the time of day. He was a
wanderer and a vagabond like myself, but with an
educated taste for whiskey. He told tales of things he
had seen and done, of out-of-the-way corners of the
Empire into which he had penetrated, and of adventures
in which he risked his life for a few days' food.
** If India was filled with men like you and me, not
knowing more than the crows where they 'd get their
next day's rations, it is n't seventy millions of revenue
the land would be paying — it 's seven hundred millions,"
said he ; and as I looked at his mouth and chin I was
disposed to agree with him.
We talked politics — the politics of Loaferdom that
sees things from the underside where the lath and
plaster is not smoothed off — and we talked postal
arrangements because my friend wanted to send a
telegram back from the next station to Ajmir, the
turning-off place from the Bombay to the Mhow line
as you travel westward. My friend had no money
beyond eight annas which he wanted for dinner, and I
had no money at all, owing to the hitch in the Budget
before mentioned. Further, I was going into a wilder-
ness where, though I should resume touch with the
Treasury, there were no telegraph offices. I was, there-
fore, unable to help him in any Way.
" We might threaten a Station-master, and make him
send a wire on tick," said my friend, " but that 'd mean
enquiries for you and for me, and /'ve got my hands
full these days. Did you say you were travelling back
along this line within any days?"
" Within ten," I said.
"Can't you make it eight?" said he. "Mine is
rather urgent business."
The Man Who Would Be King 349
" I can send your telegram within ten days if that will
serve you," I said.
" I could n't trust the wire to fetch him now I think
of it. It's this way. He leaves Delhi on the 23rd for
Bombay. That means he '11 be running through Ajmir
about the night of the 23rd."
" But I 'm going into the Indian Desert," I explained.
" Well and good," said he. " You '11 be changing at
Marwar Junction to get into Jodhpore territory — you
must do that — and he '11 be coming through Marwar
Junction in the early morning of the 24th by the Bom-
bay Mail. Can you be at Marwar Junction on that
time? 'T won't be inconveniencing you because I
know that there 's precious few pickings to be got out
of these Central India States — even though you pretend
to be correspondent of the Backwoodsman.^'
" Have you ever tried that trick?" I asked.
" Again and again, but the Residents find you out,
and then you get escorted to the Border before you 've
time to get your knife into them. But about my friend
here. I must give him a word o' mouth to tell him
what 's come to me or else he won't know where to go.
I would take it more than kind of you if you was to
come out of Central India in time to catch him at Mar-
war Junction, and say to him : ' He has gone South for
the week.' He '11 know what that means. He 's a big
man with a red beard, and a great swell he is. You '11
find him sleeping like a gentleman with all his luggage
round him in a Second-class apartment. But don't you
be afraid. SHp down the window and say : * He has
gone South for the week,' and he '11 tumble. It *s only
cutting your time of stay in those parts by two days.
I ask you as a stranger — going to the West," he said
with emphasis.
350 Greatest Short Stories
" Where have you come from? " said I. .
" From the East," said he, " and I am hoping that you
will give him the message on the Square — for the sake
of my Mother as well as your own."
Englishmen are not usually softened by appeals to
the memory of their jnothers ; but for certain reasons,
which will be fully apparent, I saw fit to agree.
" It 's more than a little matter," said he, " and that *s
why I asked you to do it — and now I know that I can
depend on you doing it. A Second-class carriage at
Marwar Junction, and a red-haired man asleep in it.
You '11 be sure to remember. I get out at the next
station, and I must hold on there till he comes or sends
me what I want."
"I'll give the message if I catch him," I said, "and
for the sake of your Mother as well as mine I '11 give
you a word of advice. Don't try to run the Central
India States just now as the correspondent of the Back-
woodsman. There 's a real one knocking about here,
and it might lead to trouble."
" Thank you," said he simply, " and when will the
swine be gone ? I can't starve because he 's ruining
my work. I wanted to get hold of the Degumber
Rajah down here about his father's widow, and give
him a jump."
" What did he do to his father's widow, then?"
" Filled her up with red pepper and slippered her to
death as she hung from a beam. I found that out
myself and I 'm the only man that would dare going
into the State to get hush-money for it. They '11 try to
poison me, same as they did in Chortumna when I
went on the loot there. But you '11 give the man at
Marwar Junction my message? "
He got out at a little roadside station, and I reflected.
The Man Who Would Be King 351
I had heard, more than once, of men personating corre-.
spondents of newspapers and bleeding small Native
States with threats of exposure, but I had never met
any of the caste before. They lead a hard life, and
generally die with great suddenness. The Native States
have a wholesome horror of English newspapers, which
may throw light on their peculiar methods of govern-
ment, and do their best to choke correspondents with
champagne, or drive them out of their mind with four-
in-hand barouches. They do not understand that no-
body cares a straw for the internal administration of
Native States so long as oppression and crime are kept
within decent limits, and the ruler is not drugged, drunk,
or diseased from one end of the year to the other. They
are the dark places of the earth, full of unimaginable
cruelty, touching the Railway and the Telegraph on one
side, and, on the other, the days of Harun-al-Raschid.
When I left the train I did business with divers Kings,
and in eight days passed through many changes of life.
Sometimes I wore dress-clothes and consorted with
Princes and Politicals, drinking from crystal and eating
from silver. Sometimes I lay out upon the ground and
devoured what I could get, from a plate made of leaves,
and drank the running water, and slept under the same
rug as my servant. It was all in the day's work.
Then I headed for the Great Indian Desert upon the
proper date, as I had promised, and the night Mail set
me down at Marwar Junction, where a funny little,
happy-go-lucky, native-managed railway runs to Jodh-
pore. The Bombay Mail from Delhi makes a short
halt at Marwar. She arrived as I got in, and I had
just time to hurry to her platform and go down the
carriages. There was only one Second-class on the
train. I slipped the window and looked down upon a
352 Greatest Short Stories
flaming red beard, half covered by a railway rug.
That was my man, fast asleep, and I dug him gently in
the ribs. He woke with a grunt and I saw his face in
the light of the lamps. It was a great and shining face.
" Tickets again? " said he.
" No," said I. *' I am to tell you that he is gone South
for the week. He has gone South for the week ! "
The train had begun to move out. The red man
rubbed his eyes. " He has gone South for the week,"
he repeated. " Now that 's just like his impidence.
Did he say that I was to give you anything? 'Cause.
I won't."
" He didn't," I said and dropped away, and watched
the red lights die out in the dark. It was horribly cold
because the wind was blowing off the sands. I climbed
into my own train — not an Intermediate carriage this
time — and went to sleep.
If the man with the beard had given me a rupee I
should have kept it as a memento of a rather curious
affair. But the consciousness of having done my duty
was my only reward.
Later on I reflected that two gentlemen like my
friends could not do any good if they forgathered and
personated correspondents of newspapers, and might, if
they blackmailed one of the little rat-trap states of
Central India or Southern Rajputana, get themselves
into serious difficulties. I therefore took some trouble
to describe them as accurately as I could remember to
people who would be interested in deporting them :
and succeeded, so I was later informed, in having them
headed back from the Degumber borders.
Then I became respectable, and returned to an Office
where there were no Kings and no incidents outside the
daily manufacture of a newspaper. A newspaper office
The Man Who Would Be King 353
seems to attract every conceivable sort of person, to the
prejudice of discipline. Zenana-mission ladies arrive,
and beg that the Editor will instantly abandon all his
duties to describe a Christian prize-giving in a back-
slum of a perfectly inaccessible village ; Colonels who
have been overpassed for command sit down and sketch
the outline of a series of ten, twelve, or twenty-four
leading articles on Seniority versus Selection ; mission-
aries wish to know why they have not been permitted to
escape from their regular vehicles of abuse and swear
at a brother-missionary under special patronage of the
editorial We ; stranded theatrical companies troop up to
explain that they cannot pay for their advertisements,
but on their return from New Zealand or Tahiti will do
so with interest ; inventors of patent punkah-pulHng
machines, carriage couplings and unbreakable swords
and axle-trees call with specifications in their pockets
and hours at their disposal; tea-companies enter and
elaborate their prospectuses with the office pens ; sec-
retaries of ball-committees clamor to have the glories
of their last dance more fully described ; strange ladies
rustle in and say : ** I want a hundred lady's cards printed
at once, please," which is manifestly part of an Editor's
duty ; and every dissolute ruffian that ever tramped the
Grand Trunk Road makes it his business to ask for
employment as a proof-reader. And, all the time, the
telephone-bell is ringing madly, and Kings are being
killed on the Continent, and Empires are saying —
" You 're another," and Mister Gladstone is calling down
brimstone upon the British Dominions, and the little
black copy-boys are whining, ^' kaa-pi chay-ha-yeh^'
(copy wanted) like tired bees, and most of the paper is
as blank as Modred's shield.
But that is the amusing part of the year. There are
23
354 Greatest Short Stories
six other months when none ever come to call, and the
thermometer walks inch by inch up to the top of the
glass, and the office is darkened to just above reading-
light, and the press- machines are red-hot of touch, and
nobody writes anything but accounts of amusements in
the Hill-stations or obituary notices. Then the tele-
phone becomes a tinkling terror, because it tells you of
the sudden deaths of men and women that you knew
intimately, and the prickly-heat covers you with a gar-
ment, and you sit down and write : " A slight increase of
sickness is reported from the Khuda Janta Khan
District. The outbreak is purely sporadic in its nature,
and, thanks to the energetic efforts of the District
authorities, is now almost at an end. It is, however,
with deep regret we record the death," etc.
Then the sickness really breaks out, and the less
recording and reporting the better for the peace of the
subscribers. But the Empires and the Kings continue
to divert themselves as selfishly as before, and the
Foreman thinks that a daily paper really ought to come
out once in twenty-four hours, and all the people at the
Hill-stations in the middle of their amusements say :
"Good gracious! Why can't the paper be sparkling?
I 'm sure there 's plenty going on up here."
That is the dark half of the moon, and, as the adver-.
tisements say, " must be experienced to be appreciated."
It was in that season, and a remarkably evil season,
that the paper began running the last issue of the week
on Saturday night, which is to say Sunday morning, after
the custom of a London paper. This was a great con-
venience, for immediately after the paper was put to
bed, the dawn would lower the thermometer from 96° to
almost 84° for half an hour, and in that chill — you
have no idea how cold i^ 84° on the grass until you
The Man Who Would Be King 355
begin to pray for it — a very tired man could get off to
sleep ere the heat roused him.
One Saturday night it was my pleasant duty to put the
paper to bed alone. A King or courtier or a courtesan or
a Community was going to die or get a new Constitution,
or do something that was important on the other side of
the world, and the paper was to be held open till the
latest possible minute in order to catch the telegram.
It was a pitchy black night, as stifling as a June night
can be, and the loo^ the red-hot wind from the west-
ward, was booming among the tinder-dry trees and
pretending that the rain was on its heels. Now and
again a spot of almost boiling water would fall on the
dust with the flop of a frog, but all our weary world
knew that was only pretence. It was a shade cooler in
the press-room than the office, so I sat there, while the
type ticked and clicked, and the night-jars hooted at
the windows, and the all but naked compositors wiped
the sweat from their foreheads, and called for water. The
thing that was keeping us back, whatever it was, would
not come off, though the loo dropped and the last type
was set, and the whole round earth stood still in the
choking heat, with its finger on its lip, to wait the event.
I drowsed, and wondered whether the telegraph was a
blessing, and whether this dying man, or struggling
people, might be aware of the inconvenience the delay
was causing. There was no special reason beyond the
heat and worry to make tension, but, as the clock-hands
crept up to three o'clock and the machines spun their
fly-wheels two and three times to see that all was in
order, before I said the word that would set them off, I
could have shrieked aloud.
Then the roar and rattle of the wheels shivered the
quiet into little bits. I rose to go away, but two men
356 Greatest Short Stories
in white clothes stood in front of me. The first one
said : *' It 's him ! " The second said : " So it is ! " And
they both laughed almost as loudly as the machinery
roared, and mopped their foreheads. *' We seed there
was a light burning across the road and we were sleeping in
that ditch there for coolness, and I said to my friend here.
The office is open. Let 's come along and speak to him
as turned us back from the Degumber State," said the
smaller of the two. He was the man I had met in the
Mhow train, and his fellow was the red-bearded man of
Marwar Junction. There was no mistaking the eye-
brows of the one or the beard of the other.
I was not pleased, because I wished to go to sleep,
not to squabble with loafers. " What do you want? " I
asked.
" Half an hour's talk with you, cool and comfortable,
in the office," said the red-bearded man. " We 'd /ike
some drink — the Contrack does n't begin yet, Peachey,
so you need n't look — but what we really want is advice.
We don't want money. We ask you as a favor, because
we found out you did us a bad turn about Degumber
State."
I led from the press-room to the stifling office with the
maps on the walls, and the red-haired man rubbed his
hands. " That *s something like," saixl he. "This was
the proper shop to come to. Now, Sir, let me introduce
to you Brother Peachey Carnehan, that 's him, and Brother
Daniel Dravot, that is me, and the less said about our
professions the better, for we have been most things in
our time. Soldier, sailor, compositor, photographer,
proof-reader, street -preacher, and correspondents of the
Backwoodsman when we thought the paper wanted one.
Carnehan is sober, and so am I. Look at us first, and
see that 's sure. It will save you cutting into my talk.
The Man Who Would Be King 357
We '11 take one of your cigars apiece, and you shall see
us light up."
I watched the test. The men were absolutely sober,
so I gave them each a tepid whiskey and soda.
*' Well and good,'' said Carnehan of the eyebrows, wiping
the froth from his moustache. " Let me talk now, Dan.
We have been all over India, mostly on foot. We have
been boiler-fitters, engine-drivers, petty contractors, and
all that, and we have decided that India is n't big enough
for such as us."
They certainly were too big for the office. Dravot's
beard seemed to fill half the room and Carnehan's shoul-
ders the other half, as they sat on the big table. Carnehan
continued : " The country is n't half worked out because
they that governs it won't let you touch it. They spend
all their blessed time in governing it, and you can't lift a
spade, nor chip a rock, nor look for oil, nor anything like
that without all the Government saying — * Leave it
alone, and let us govern.' Therefore, such as it is, we
will let it alone, and go away to some other place where
a man is n't crowded and can come to his own. We are
not little men, and there is nothing that we are afraid of
except Drink, and we have signed a Contrack on that.
Therefore, we are going away to be Kings."
" Kings in our own right," muttered Dravot.
*' Yes, of course," I said. " You' ve been tramping in
the sun, and it 's a very warm night, and had n't you bet-
ter sleep over the notion? Come to-morrow."
" Neither drunk nor sunstruck," said Dravot. " We
have slept over the notion half a year, and require
to see Books and Atlases, and we have decided that
there is only one place now in the world that two strong
men can ^3x-z.'Whack. They call it Kafiristan. By my
reckoning it 's the top right-hand corner of Afghanistan,
35S Greatest Short Stories
not more than three hundred miles from Peshawar.
They have two-and-thirty heathen idols there, and
we '11 be the thirty-third and fourth. It 's a mountain-
eous country, and the women of those parts are very
beautiful."
" But that is provided against in the Contrack," said
Carnehan. *' Neither Woman nor Liqu-or, Daniel."
*' And that 's all we know, except that no one has gone
there, and they fight, and in any place where they fight
a man who knows how to drill men can always be a King.
We shall go to those parts and say to any King we find-
— * D* you want to vanquish your foes ? ' and we will
show him how to drill men ; for that we know better than
anything else. Then we will subvert that King and seize
his Throne and establish a Dy-nasty."
" You '11 be cut to pieces before you 're fifty miles
across the Border," I said. ** You have to travel through
Afghanistan to get to that country. It 's one mass of
mountains and peaks and glaciers, and no Englishman
has been through it. The people are utter brutes, and
even if you reached them you could n't do anything."
" That 's more like," said Carnehan. " If you could
think us a little more mad we would be more pleased.
We have come to you to know about this country, to read
a book about it, and to be shown maj)s. We want you
to tell us that we are fools and to show us your books."
He turned to the book-cases.
" Are you at all in earnest ? " I said.
" A little," said Dravot sweetly. *' As big a map as you
have got, even if it's all blank where Kafiristan is, and
any books you 've got. We can read, though we are n't
very educated."
I uncased the big thirty- two- miles-to-the-inch map of
India, and two smaller Frontier maps, hauled down vol-
The Man Who Would Be King 359
ume INF-KAN of the Encyclopcedia Britannica, and the
men consulted them.
" See here ! " said Dravot, his thumb on the map. " Up
to Jagdallak, Peachey and me know the road. We was
there with Roberts's Army. We '11 have to turn off to the
right at Jagdallak through Laghmann territory. Then we
get among the hills — fourteen thousand feet — fifteen
thousand — it will be cold work there, but it don't look
very far on the map."
I handed him Wood on the Sources of the Oxus.
Carnehan was deep in the Encyclopcedia.
" They 're a mixed lot," said Dravot reflectively ; " and
it won't help us to know the names of their tribes. The
more tribes the more they '11 fight, and the better for us.
From Jagdallak to Ashang. H'mm ! "
" But all the information about the country is as
sketchy and inaccurate as can be," I protested. " No
one knows anything about it really. Here 's the file
of the United Services^ Institute. Read what Bellew
says."
" Blow Bellew ! " said Carnehan. " Dan, they 're a
stinkin' lot of heathens, but this book here says they
think they 're related to us English."
I smoked while the men pored over Raverty, Wood,
the maps, and the Encyclopcedia,
" There is no use your waiting," said Dravot politely.
"It's about four o'clock now. We'll go before six
o'clock if you want to sleep, and we won't steal any
of the papers. Don't you sit up. We 're two harm-
less lunatics, and if you come to-morrow evening down
to the Serai we '11 say good-bye to you."
"You are two fools," I answered. " You '11 be turned
back at the Frontier or cut up the minute you set foot
in Afghanistan. Do you want any money or a recom-
360 Greatest Short Stories
mendation down-country ? I can help you to the chance
of work next week."
" Next week we shall be hard at work ourselves, thank
you," said Dravot. " It isn't so easy being a King as it
looks. When we 've got our Kingdom in going order
we '11 let you know, and you can come up and help us \o
govern it."
" Would two lunatics make a Contrack like that? " said
Carnehan, with subdued pride, showing me a greasy half-
sheet of notepaper on which was written the following.
I copied it, then and there, as a curiosity —
This Contract between me and you persuing witnesseth
in the name of God — Amen and so forth,
( One) That me and you will settle this matter to-
gether ; i. e., to be Kings of Kafir is tan.
( Two) That you and me will not, while this matter
is being settled, look at any Liquor, nor
any Woman black, white, or brown, so
as to get 7nixed up with one or the other
harmful,
{Three) That we conduct ourselves with Dignity
and Discretion, and if one of us gets into
trouble the other will stay by him.
Signed by you and me this day.
Peachey Taliaferro Carnehan,
Daniel Dravot.
Both Gentlemen at Large,
" There was no need for the last article," said Carnehan,
blushing modestly ; '* but it looks regular. Now you know
the sort of men that loafers are — we are loafers, Dan,
until we get out of India — and do you think that we
would sign a Contrack like that unless we was in earnest ?
The Man Who Would Be King 361
We have kept away from the two things that make life
worth having."
" You won't enjoy your Hves much longer if you are
going to try this idiotic adventure. Don't set the office
on fire," I said, *' and go away before nine o'clock."
I left them still poring over the maps and making
notes on the back of the " Contrack." " Be sure to come
down to the Serai to-morrow," were their parting words.
The Kumharsen Serai is the great four-square sink of
humanity where the strings of camels and horses from
the North load and unload. All the nationalities of
Central Asia may be found there, and most of the folk
of India proper. Balkh and Bokhara there meet Bengal
and Bombay, and try to draw eye-teeth. You can buy
ponies, turquoises, Persian pussy-cats, saddle-bags, fat-
tailed sheep and musk in the Kumharsen Serai, and get
many strange things for nothing. In the afternoon I
went down to see whether my friends intended to keep
their word or were lying there drunk.
A priest attired in fragments of ribbons and rags
stalked up to me, gravely twisting a child's paper whirli-
gig. Behind him was his servant bending under the
load of a crate of mud toys. The two were loading up
two camels, and the inhabitants of the Serai watched
them with shrieks of laughter.
" The priest is mad," said a horse-dealer to me. " He
is going up to Kabul to sell toys to the Amir. He will
either be raised to honor or have his head cut off. He
came in here this morning and has been behaving madly
ever since."
" The witless are under the protection of God," stam-
mered a flat-cheeked Usbeg in broken Hindi. "They
foretell future events."
" Would they could have foretold that my caravan
362 Greatest Short Stories
would have been cut up by the Shinwaris almost within
shadow of the Pass ! " grunted the Eusufzai agent of a
Rajputana trading-house whose goods had been diverted
into the hands of other robbers just across the Border,
and whose misfortunes were the laughing-stock of the
bazar. " Oh^, priest, whence come you and whither do
you go?"
" From Roum have I come," shouted the priest, wav-
ing his whirligig ; '* from Roum, blown by the breath of
a hundred devils across the sea ! O thieves, robbers,
liars, the blessing of Pir Khan on pigs, dogs, and per-
jurers ! Who will take the Protected of God to the
North to sell charms that are never still to the Amir?
The camels shall not gall, the sons shall not fall sick,
and the wives shall remain faithful while they are away,
of the men who give me place in their caravan. Who
will assist me to slipper the King of the Roos with a
golden slipper with a silver heel? The protection of
Pir Khan be upon his labors ! " He spread out the
skirts of his gaberdine and pirouetted between the lines
of tethered horses.
" There starts a caravan from Peshawar to Kabul in
twenty days, -Huzrut^^ said the Eusufzai trader. '* My
camels go therewith. Do thou also go and bring us
good-luck."
" I will go even now ! " shouted the priest. " I will
depart upon my winged camels, and be at Peshawar in a
day ! Ho ! Hazar Mir Khan," he yelled to his servant,
** drive out the camels, but let me first mount my own."
He leaped on the back of his beast as it knelt, and,
turning round to me, cried : " Come thou also. Sahib, a
little along the road, and I will sell thee a charm — an
amulet that shall make thee King of Kafiristan."
Then the light broke upon me, and I followed the two
The Man Who Would Be King 363
camels out of the Serai till we reached open road and
the priest halted.
"What d' you think o' that?" said he in English.
" Carnehan can't talk their patter, so I 've made him my
servant. He makes a handsome servant. 'T is n't for
nothing that I 've been knocking about the country for
fourteen years. Did n't I do that talk neat ? We '11
hitch on to a caravan at Peshawar till we get to Jagdal-
lak, and then we '11 see if we can get donkeys for our
camels, and strike into Kafiristan. Whirligigs for the
Amir, O Lor ! Put your hand under the camel-bags
and tell me what you feel."
I felt the butt of a Martini, and another and another.
" Twenty of 'em," said Dravot placidly. " Twenty of
'em and ammunition to correspond, under the whirligigs
and the mud dolls."
" Heaven help you if you are caught with those things ! "
r said. " A Martini is worth her weight in silver among
the Pathans."
" Fifteen hundred rupees of capital — every rupee we
could beg, borrow, or steal — are invested on these two
camels," said Dravot. " We won't get caught. We *re
going through the Khaiber with a regular caravan.
Who'd touch a poor mad priest?"
" Have you got everything you want? " I asked, over-
come with astonishment.
" Not yet, but we shall soon. Give us a memento of
your kindness. Brother. You did me a service, yester-
day, and that time in Marwar. Half my Kingdom shall
you have, as the saying is.'* I sHpped a small charm
compass from my watch chain and handed it up to the
priest.
" Good-bye," said Dravot, giving me hand cautiously.
" It 's the last time we '11 shake hands with an English-
364 Greatest Short Stories
man these many days. Shake hands with him, Carne-
han," he cried, as the second camel passed me.
Carnehan leaned down and shook hands. Then the
camels passed away along the dusty road, and I was
left alone to wonder. My eye could detect no failure
in the disguises. The scene in the Serai proved that
they were complete to the native mind. There was
just the chance, therefore, that Carnehan and Dravot
would be able to wander through Afghanistan without
detection. But, beyond, they would find death — cer-
tain and awful death.
Ten days later a native correspondent giving me the
news of the day from Peshawar, wound up his letter
with : ** There has been much laughter here on account
of a certain mad priest who is going in his estimation
to sell petty gauds and insignificant trinkets which he
ascribes as great charms to H.H. the Amir of Bokhara.
He passed through Peshawar and associated himself to
the Second Summer caravan that goes to Kabul. The
merchants are pleased because through superstition they
imagine that such mad fellows bring good-fortune."
The two, then, were beyond the Border. I would have
prayed for them, but, that night, a real King died in
Europe, and demanded an obituary notice.
The wheel of the world swings through the same phases
again and again. Summer passed and winter thereafter,
and came and passed again. The daily paper continued
and I with it, and upon the third summer there fell a
hot night, a night-issue, and a strained waiting for some-
thing to be telegraphed from the other side of the world,
exactly as had happened before. A few great men had
died in the past two years, the machines worked with
more clatter, and some of the trees in the Office
The Man Who Would Be King 365
garden were a few feet taller. But that was all the
difference.
I passed over to the press-room, and went through
just such a scene as I have already described. The
nervous tension was stronger than it had been two years
before, and I felt the heat more acutely. At three o'clock
I cried, " Print off," and turned to go, when there crept
to my chair what was left of a man. He was bent into a
circle, his head was sunk between his shoulders, and he
moved his feet one over the other like a bear. I could
hardly see whether he walked or crawled — this rag-
wrapped, whining cripple who addressed me by name,
crying that he was come back. " Can you give me a
drink? " he whimpered. " For the Lord's sake, give me
a drink ! "
I went back to the office, the man following with
groans of pain, and I turned up the lamp.
" Don't you know me? " he gasped, dropping into a
chair, and he turned his drawn face, surmounted by a
shock of gray hair, to the light.
I looked at him intently. Once before had I seen
eyebrows that met over the nose in an inch-broad
black band, but for the life of me I could not tell
where.
" I don't know you," I said, handing him the whiskey.
" What can I do for you? "
He took a gulp of the spirit raw, and shivered in spite
of the suffocating heat.
" I 've come back," he repeated ; " and I was the King
of Kafiristan — me and Dravot — crowned Kings we
was ! In this office we settled it — you setting there
and giving us the books. I am Peachey — Peachey
Taliaferro Carnehan, and you 've been setting here ever
since — O Lord 1 "
366 Greatest Short Stories
I was more than a little astonished, and expressed my
feelings accordingly.
'* It 's true," said Carnehan, with a dry cackle, nursing
his feet, which were wrapped in rags. " True as gospel.
Kings we were, with crowns upon our heads — me and
Dravot — poor Dan — oh, poor, poor Dan, that would
never take advice, not though I begged of him I "
" Take the whiskey," I said, " and take your own time.
Tell me all you can recollect of everything from begin-
ning to end. You got across the border on your camels,
Dravot dressed as a mad priest and you his servant. Do
you remember that?"
" I ain't mad — yet, but I shall be that way soon. Of
course I remember. Keep looking at me, or maybe my
words will go all to pieces. Keep looking at me in my
eyes and don't say anything."
I leaned forward and looked into his face as steadily
as I could. He dropped one hand upon the table and I
grasped it by the wrist. It was twisted like a bird's claw,
and upon the back was a ragged, red, diamond-shaped
scar.
" No, don't look there. Look at me,*' said Carnehan.
''That comes afterwards, but for the Lord's sake don't
distrack me. We left with that caravan, me and Dravot
playing all sorts of antics to amuse the people we were
with. Dravot used to make us laugh in the evenings
when all the people was cooking their dinners — cooking
their dinners, and . . . what did they do then ? They
lit little fires with sparks that went into Dravot's beard,
and we all laughed — fit to die. Little red fires they
was, going into Dravot's big red beard — so funny." His
eyes left mine and he smiled foolishly.
" You went as far as Jagdallak with that caravan," I
said at a venture, " after you had lit those fires. To
The Man Who Would Be King 367
Jagdallak, where you turned off to try to get into
Kafiristan."
" No, we did n't neither. What are you talking about?
We turned off before Jagdallak, because we heard the
roads was good. But they was n't good enough for our
two camels — mine and Dravot's. When we left the
caravan, Dravot took off all his clothes and mine too,
and said we would be heathen, because the Kafirs didn't
allow Mohammedans to talk to them. So we dressed
betwixt and between, and such a sight as Daniel Dravot
I never saw yet nor expect to see again. He burned
half his beard, and slung a sheep-skin over his shoulder,
and shaved his head into patterns. He shaved mine, too,
and made me wear outrageous things to look like a
heathen. That was in a most mountaineous country,
and our camels could n't go along any more because of
the mountains. They were tall and black, and coming
home I saw them fight like wild goats — there are lots
of goats in Kafiristan. And these mountains, they
never keep still, no more than the goats. Always
fighting they are, and don't let you sleep at night."
" Take some more whiskey," I said very slowly.
"What did you and Daniel Dravot do when the camels
could go no further because of the rough roads that led
into Kafiristan? "
"What did which do? There was a party called
Peachey Taliaferro Carnehan that was with Dravot.
Shall I tell you about him? He died out there in the
cold. Slap from the bridge fell old Peachey, turning
and twisting in the air like a penny whirligig that you
can sell to the Amir. — No ; they was two for three
ha'pence, those whirligigs, or I am much mistaken and
woeful sore. ... And then these camels were no use,
and Peachey said to Dravot — ' For the Lord's sake
368 Greatest Short Stories
let 's get out of this before our heads are choppea off,'
and with that they killed the camels all among the
mountains, not having anything in particular to eat, but
first they took oif the boxes with the guns and the am-
munition, till two men came along driving four mules.
Dravot up and dances in front of them, singing — * Sell
me four mules.' Says the first man — * If you are
rich enough to buy, you are rich enough to rob ; ' but
before ever he could put his hand to his knife?
Dravot breaks his neck over his knee, and the other
party runs away. So Carnehap loaded the mules with
the rifles that was taken off the camels, and together
we starts forward into those bitter cold mountaineous
parts, and never a road broader than the back of your
hand."
He paused for a moment, while I asked him if he
could remember the nature of the country through which
he had journeyed.
" I am telling you as straight as I can, but my head
is n't as good as it might be. They drove nails through
it to make me hear better how Dravot died. The
country was mountaineous and the mules were most
contrary, and the inhabitants was dispersed and solitary.
They went up and up, and down and down, and that
other party, Carnehan, was imploring' of Dravot not to
sing and whistle so loud, for fear of bringing down the
tremenjus avalanches. But Dravot says that if a King
could n't sing it was n't worth being King, and whacked
the mules over the rump, and never took no heed for ten
cold days. We came to a big level valley all among the
mountains, and the mules were near dead, so we killed
them, not having anything in special for them or us to
eat. We sat upon the boxes, and played odd and even
with the cartridges that was jolted out.
The Man Who Would Be King 369
" Then ten men with bows and arrows ran down that
valley, chasing twenty men with bows and arrows, and
the row was tremenjus. They was fair men — fairer than
you or me — with yellow hair and remarkable well built.
Says Dravot, unpacking the guns — * This is the begin-
ning of the business. We '11 fight for the ten men,' and
with that he fires two rifles at the twenty men, and drops
one of them at two hundred yards from the rock where he
was sitting. The other men began to run, but Carnehan
and Dravot sits on the boxes picking them off at all ranges,
up and down the valley. Then we goes up to the ten men
that had run across the snow too, and they fires a footy little
arrow at us. Dravot he shoots above their heads and
they all falls down flat. Then he walks over them and
kicks them, and then he lifts them up and shakes hands
all round to make them friendly like. He calls them
and gives them the boxes ,to carry, and waves his hand
for all the world as though he was King already. They
takes the boxes and him across the valley and up the hill
into a pine wood on the top, where there was half a
dozen big stone idols. Dravot he goes to the biggest —
a fellow they call Imbra — and lays a rifle and a car-
tridge at his feet, rubbing his nose respectful with his
own nose, patting him on the head, and saluting in front
of it. He turns round to the men and nods his head,
and says — * That 's all right. I'm in the know too,
and all these old jim-jams are my friends.' Then
he opens his mouth and points down it, and when the
first man brings him food, he says — •* No ; ' and when
the second man brings him food, he says — ' No ; ' but
when one of the old priests and the boss of the village
brings him food, he says — 'Yes,' very haughty, and
eats it slow. That was how we came to our first
village, without any trouble, just as though we had tum-
24
370 Greatest Short Stories
bled from the skies. But we tumbled from one of those
damned rope-bridges, you see, and — you could n't ex-
pect a man to laugh much after that? "
*' Take some more whiskey and go on," I said. " That
was the first village you came into. How did you get
to be King?"
" I was n't King," said Carnehan. " Dravot, he was the
King, and a handsome man he looked with the gold
crown on his head and all. Him and the other party
stayed in that village, and every morning Dravot sat by
the side of old Imbra, and the people came and wor-
shipped. That was Dravot's order. Then a lot of men
came into the valley, and Carnehan and Dravot picks them
off with the rifles before they knew where they was, and
runs down into the valley and up again the other side
and finds another village, same as the first one, and the
people all falls down flat on their faces, and Dravot says
— * Now what is the trouble between you two villages ? '
and the people points to a woman, as fair as you or me,
that was carried off, and Dravot takes her back to the
first village and counts up the dead — eight there was.
For each dead man Dravot pours a little milk on the
ground and waves his arms like a whirligig and * That 's
all right,' says he. Then he and Carnehan takes the
big boss of each village by the arm and walks them down
into the valley, and shows them how to scratch a line
with a spear right down the valley, and gives each a sod
of turf from both sides of the line. Then all the people
comes down and shouts like the devil and all, and Dravot
says — * Go and dig the land, and be fruitful and multiply,'
which they did, though they did n't understand. Then
we asks the names of things in their lingo — bread and
water and fire and idols and such, and Dravot leads the
priest of each village up to the idol, and says he must sit
The Man Who Would Be King 371
there and judge the people, and if anything goes wrong
he is to be shot.
" Next week they was all turning up the land in the
valley as quiet as bees and much prettier, and the priests
heard all the complaints and told Dravot in dumb show
what it was about. *. That's just the beginning,' says
Dravot. * They think we 're Gods.' He and Carnehan
picks out twenty good men and shows them how to click
off a rifle, and form fours, and advance in line, and they
was very pleased to do so, and clever to see the hang of
it. Then he takes out his pipe and his baccy-pouch and
leaves one at one village, and one at the other, and off
we two goes to see what was to be done in the next valley.
That was all rock, and there was a little village there, and
Carnehan says — * Send 'em to the old valley to plant,' and
takes 'em there and gives 'em some land that was n't took
before. They were a poor lot, and we blooded 'em with
a kid before letting 'em into the new Kingdom. That was
to impress the people, and then they settled down quiet,
and Carnehan went back to Dravot who had got into
another valley, all snow and ice and most mountaineous.
There was no people there and the Army got afraid, so
Dravot shoots one of them, and goes on till he finds
some people in a village, and the Army explains that
unless the people wants to be killed they had better not
shoot their little matchlocks; for they had matchlocks.
We makes friends with the priest and I stays there alone
with two of the Army, teaching the men how to drill,
and a thundering big Chief comes across the snow with
kettle-drums and horns twanging, because he heard there
was a new God kicking about. Carnehan sights for the
brown of the men half a mile across the snow and wings
one of them. Then he sends a message to the Chief
that, unless he wished to be killed, he must come and
372 Greatest Short Stories
shake hands with me and leave his arms behind. The
Chief comes alone first, and Carnehan shakes hands with
him and whirls his arms about, same as Dravot used, and
very much surprised that Chief was, and strokes my eye-
brows. Then Carnehan goes alone to the Chief, and
asks him in dumb show if he had an enemy he hated.
* I have/ says the Chief. So Carnehan weeds out the
pick of his men, and sets the two of the Army to show
them drill and at the end of two weeks the men can
manoeuvre about as well as Volunteers. So he marches
with the Chief to a great big plain on the top of a moun-
tain, and the Chief's men rushes into a village and
takes it ; we three Martinis firing into the brown of the
enemy. So we took that village too, and I gives the
Chief a rag from my coat and says, * Occupy till I
come ; ' which was scriptural. By way of a reminder,
when me and the Army was eighteen hundred yards
away, I drops a bullet near him standing on the snow,
and all the people falls flat on their faces. Then I sends
a letter to Dravot wherever he be by land or by sea."
At the risk of throwing the creature out of train I in-
terrupted — " How could you write a letter up yonder? "
"The letter? — Oh ! —The letter ! Keep looking at
me between the eyes, please. It was a string-talk letter,
that we'd learned the way of it from'a blind beggar in
the Punjab."
I remember that there had once come to the office a
blind man with a knotted twig and a piece of string
which he wound round the twig according to some
cipher of his own. He could, after the lapse of days or
hours, repeat the sentence which he had reeled up. He
had reduced the alphabet to eleven primitive sounds ;
and tried to teach me his method, but I could not un-
derstand.
The Man Who Would Be King 373
'* I sent that letter to Dravot," said Carnehan ; " and
told him to come back because this Kingdom was grow-
ing too big for me to handle, and then I struck for the
first valley, to see how the priests were working. They
called the village we took along with the Chief, Bashkai,
and the first village we took, Er-Heb. The priests at
Er-Heb was doing all right, but they had a lot of pend-
ing cases about land to show me, and some men from
another village had been firing arrows at night. I went
out and looked for that village, and fired four rounds at
it from a thousand yards. That used all the cartridges
I cared to spend, and I waited for Dravot, who had been
away two or three months, and I kept my people quiet.
" One morning I heard the devil's own noise of drums
and horns, and Dan Dravot marches down the hill with
his Army and a tail of hundreds of men, and, which was
the most amazing, a great gold crown on his head. * My
Gord, Carnehan,' says Daniel, ' this is a tremenjus
business, and we 've got the whole country as far as it 's
worth having. I am the son of Alexander by Queen
Semiramis, and you 're my younger brother and a God
too ! It 's the biggest thing we 've ever seen. I 've
been marching and fighting for six weeks with the Army,
and every footy little village for fifty miles has come in
rejoiceful ; and more than that, I Ve got the key of the
whole show, as you '11 see, and I *ve got a crown for you !
I told 'em to make two of 'em at a place called Shu,
where the gold lies in the rock like suet in mutton.
Gold I 've seen, and turquoise I 've kicked out of the
cliffs, and there 's garnets in the sands of the river, and
Jiere 's a chunk of amber that a man brought me. Call
up all the priests and, here, take your crown.'
" One of the men opens a black hair bag, and I slips
the crown on. It was too small and too heavy, but I
374 Greatest Short Stories
wore it for the glory. Hammered gold it was — five
pound weight, like a hoop of a barrel.
" * Peachey,' says Dravot, ' we don't want to fight no
more. The Craft 's the trick, so help me ! ' and he
brings forward that same Chief that I left at Bashkai
— Billy Fish we called him afterwards, because he was
so like Billy Fish that drove the big tank-engine at Mach
on the Bolan in the old days. * Shake hands with him,'
says Dravot, and I shook hands and nearly dropped, for
Billy Fish gave me the Grip. I said nothing, but tried
him -with the Fellow Craft Grip. He answers, all right,
and I tried the Master's Grip, but that was a sHp. * A
Fellow Craft he is ! ' I says to Dan. * Does he know
the word ? ' — * He does,' says Dan, ' and all the
priests know. It 's a miracle ! The Chiefs and the
priests can work a Fellow Craft Lodge in a way that 's
very like ours, and they 've cut the marks on the rocks,
but they don't know the Third Degree, and they 've come
to find out. It 's Gord's Truth. I 've known these long
years that the Afghans knew up to the Fellow Craft De-
gree, but this is a miracle. A God and a Grand-Master
of the Craft am I, and a Lodge in the Third Degree I
will open, and we '11 raise the head priests and the Chiefs
of the villages.*
" ' It 's against all the law,' I says, ' ' holding a Lodge
without warrant from any one ; and you know we never
held office in any Lodge.'
" ' It 's a master-stroke o' policy,* says Dravot. ' It
means running the country as easy as a four-wheeled
bogie on a down grade. We can't stop to inquire now,
or they '11 turn against us. I 've forty Chiefs at my heel,
and passed and raised according to their merit they
shall be. Billet these men on the villages, and see
that we run up a Lodge of some kind. The temple
The Man Who Would Be King 375
of Imbra will do for the Lodge-room. The women must
make aprons as you show them. I *11 hold a levee of
Chiefs to-night and Lodge to-morrow/
" I was fair run off my legs, but I was n't such a fool
as not to see what a pull this Craft business gave us.
I showed the priests' families how to make aprons of
the degrees, but for Dravot's apron the blue border
and marks was made of turquoise lumps on white
hide, not cloth. We took a great square stone in the
temple for the Master's chair, and little stones for the
officers* chairs, and painted the black pavement with
white squares, and did what we could to make things
regular.
" At the levee which was held that night on the hillside
with big bonfires, Dravot gives out that him and me were
Gods and sons of Alexander, and Past Grand-masters in
the Craft, and was come to make Kafiristan a country
where every man should eat in peace and drink in quiet,
and specially obey us. Then the Chiefs come round to
shake hands, and they were so hairy and white and fair
it was just shaking hands with old friends. We gave them
names according as they was like men we had known in
India — Billy Fish, Holly Dilworth, Pikky Kergan, that
was Bazar-master when I was at Mhow, and so on, and
so on.
" The most amazing miracles was at Lodge next night.
One of the old priests was watching us continuous, and
I felt uneasy, for I knew we 'd have to fudge the Ritual,
and I did n't know what the men knew. The old priest
was a stranger come in from beyond the village of Bash-
kai. The minute Dravot puts on the Master's apron that
the girls had made for him, the priest fetches a whoop
and a howl, and tries to overturn the stone that Dravot
was sitting on. * It 's all up now,* I says. * That comes
2i'j6 Greatest Short Stories
of meddling with the Craft without warrant ! * Dravot
never winked an eye, not when ten priests took and
tilted over the Grand-master's chair — which was to say
the stone of Imbra. The priest begins rubbing the bot-
tom end of it to clear away the black dirt, and presently
he shows all the other priests the Master's Mark, same as
was on Dravot's apron, cut into the stone. Not even the
priests of the temple of Imbra knew it was there. The
old chap falls flat on his face at Dravot's feet and kisses
'em. * Luck again,' says Dravot, across the Lodge to
me, ' they say it 's the missing Mark that no one could
understand the why of. We 're more than safe now.'
Then he bangs the butt of his gun for a gavel and says :
*By virtue of the authority vested in me by my own
right hand and the help of Peachey, I declare myself
Grand-Master of all Freemasonry in Kafiristan in this the
Mother Lodge o' the country, and King of Kafiristan
equally with Peachey ! ' At that he puts on his crown
and I puts on mine — I was doing Senior Warden — and
we opens the Lodge in most ample form. It was a
amazing miracle ! The priests moved in Lodge through
the first two degrees almost without telling, as if the
memory was coming back to them. After that, Peachey
and Dravot raised such as was worthy — high priests and
Chiefs of far-off villages. Billy Fish was the first, and I
can tell you we scared the soul out of him. It was not
in any way according to Ritual, but it served our turn.
We did n't raise more than ten of the biggest men, be-
cause we did n't want to make the Degree common*
And they was clamoring to be raised.
" * In another six months,' says Dravot, * we '11 hold
another Communication, and see how you are working.*
Then he asks them about their villages, and learns that
they was fighting one against the other, and were sick
The Man Who Would Be King ^
and tired of it. And when they was n't doing that they
was fighting with the Mohammedans. * You can fight
those when they come into our country,* says Dravot,
* Tell off every tenth man of your tribes for a Frontier
guard, and send two hundred at a time to this valley to
be drilled. Nobody is going to be shot or speared any
more so long as he does well, and I know that you won't
cheat me, because you 're white people — sons of Alex-
ander — and not like common, black Mohammedans.
You are my people, and by God,' says he, running oft
into English at the end — * I '11 make a damned fine
Nation of you, or I '11 die in the making ! '
" I can't tell all we did for the next six months, because
Dravot did a lot I could n't see the hang of, and he
learned their lingo in a way I never could. My work
was to help the people plough, and now and again go
out with some of the Army and see what the other vil-
lages were doing, and make 'em throw rope-bridges
across the ravines which cut up the country horrid.
Dravot was very kind to me, but when he walked up and
down in the pine wood pulling that bloody red beard of
his with both fists I knew he was thinking plans I could
not advise about, and I just waited for orders.
" But Dravot never showed me disrespect before the
people. They were afraid of me and the Army, but they
loved Dan. He was the best of friends with the priests
and the Chiefs ; but any one could come across the hills
with a complaint, and Dravot would hear him out fair,
and call four priests together and say what was to be
done. He used to call in Billy Fish from Bashkai, and
Pikky Kergan from Shu, and an old Chief we call Kafu-
zelum — it was like enough to his real name — and hold
councils with 'em when there was any fighting to be done
in small villages. That was his Council of War, and the
378 Greatest Short Stories
four priests of Bashkai, Shu, Khawak, and Madora was
his Privy Council. Between the lot of 'em they sent me,
with forty men and twenty rifles, and sixty men carry-
ing turquoises, into the Ghorband country to buy those
hand-made Martini rifles, that come out of the Amir's
workshops at Kabul, from one of the Amir's Herati
regiments that would have sold the very teeth out of
their mouths for turquoises.
" I stayed in Ghorband a month, and gave the Gov-
ernor there the pick of my baskets for hush-money, and
bribed the Colonel of the regiment some more, and, be-
tween the two and the tribes-people, we got more than
a hundred hand-made Martinis, a hundred good Kohat
Jezaila that '11 throw to six hundred yards, and forty man-
loads of very bad ammunition for the rifles. I came
back with what I had, and distributed 'em among the
men that the Chiefs sent in to me to drill. Dravot
was too busy to attend to those things, but the old
Army that we first made helped me, and we turned
out five hundred men that could drill, and two hundred
that knew how to hold arms pretty straight. Even those
cork-screwed, hand-made guns was a miracle to them.
Dravot talked big about powder-shops and factories,
walking up and down in the pine wood when the winter
was coming on.
" ' I won't make a Nation,' says he. * I '11 make an
Empire ! These men are n't niggers ; they 're English !
Look at their eyes — look at their mouths. Look at the
way they stand up. They sit on chairs in their own
houses. They 're the Lost Tribes, or something like it,
and they 've grown to be English. I '11 take a census in
the spring if the priests don't get frightened. There
must be a fair two million of 'em in these hills. The
villages are full o' little children. Two million people
The Man Who Would Be King 379
— two hundred and fifty thousand fighting men — and
all English ! They only want the rifles and a little drill-
ing. Two hundred and fifty thousand men, ready to cut
in on Russia's right flank when she tries for India!
Peachey, man/ he says, chewing his beard in great
hunks, * we shall be Emperors — Emperors of the
Earth ! Rajah Brooke will be a suckling to us. I '11
treat with the Viceroy on equal terms. I '11 ask him to
send me twelve picked English — twelve that I know of
— to help us govern a bit. There 's Mackray, Sergeant-
pensioner at Segowli — many 's the good dinner he 's given
me, and his wife a pair of trousers. There 's Donkin, the
Warder of Tounghoo Jail ; there 's hundreds that I could
lay my hand on if I was in India. The Viceroy shall do
it for me, I '11 send a man through in the spring for those
men, and I '11 write for a dispensation from the Grand
Lodge for what I 've done as Grand- Master. That —
and all the Sniders that '11 be thrown out when the na-
tive troops in India take up the Martini. They 'U be
worn smooth, but they '11 do for fighting in these hills.
Twelve English, a hundred thousand Sniders run through
the Amir's country in dribblets — I 'd be content with
twenty thousand in one year — and we 'd be an Empire.
When everything was shipshape, I 'd hand over the crown
— this crown I 'm wearing now — to Queen Victoria on
my knees, and she 'd say : " Rise up, Sir Daniel Dravot."
Oh, it *s big ! It's big, I tell you ! But there's so much
to be done in every place — Bashkai, Khawak, Shu, and
everywhere else.'
"'What is it?* I says. 'There are no more men
coming in to be drilled this autumn. Look at those
fat black clouds. They *re bringing the snow.'
" ' It is n't that,' says Daniel, putting his hand very
hard on my shoulder ; * and I don't wish to say any-
380 Greatest Short Stories
thing that 's against you, for no other living man would
have followed me and made me what I am as you have
done. You 're a first-class Commander-in-Chief, and
the people know you ; but — it 's a big country, and
somehow you can't help me, Peachey, in the way I
want to be helped.'
** ' Go to your blasted priests, then ! ' I said, and I
was sorry when I made that remark, but it did hurt me
sore to find Daniel talking so superior when I 'd drilled
all the men, and done all he told me.
" * Don't let 's quarrel, Peachey,' says Daniel without
cursing. * You 're a King too, and the half of this
Kingdom is yours ; but can't you see, Peachey, we want
cleverer men than us now — three or four of 'em, that
we can scatter about for our Deputies. It *s a hugeous
great State, and I can't always tell the right thing to do,
and I have n't time for all I want to do, and here 's the
winter coming on and all.' He put half his beard into
his mouth, all red like the gold of his crown.
** ' I 'm sorry, Daniel,' says I. ' I 've done all 1
could. I 've drilled the men and shown the people how
to stack their oats better ; and I 've brought in those tin-
ware rifles from Ghorband — but I know what you 're
driving at. I take it Kings always feel oppressed that
way.'
" ' There 's another thing too,* says Dravot, walking
up and down. * The winter 's coming and these people
won't be giving much trouble, and if they do we can't
move about. I want a wife.'
" ' For Gord's sake leave the women alone ! ' I says.
* We 've both got all the work we can, though I am a
fool. Remember the Contrack, and keep clear o'
women.*
" * The Contrack only lasted till such time as we was
The Man Who Would Be King 381
Kings; and Kings we have been these months past/
says Dravot, weighing his crown in his hand. 'You go
get a wife too, Peachey — a nice, strapping plump girl
that '11 keep you warm in the winter. They 're prettier
than English girls, and we can take the pick of 'em.
Boil 'em once or twice in hot water, and they '11 come
out like chicken and ham.'
" ' Don't tempt me ! * I says. * I will not have any
dealings with a woman not till we are a dam' side more
settled than we are now. I 've been doing the work o'
two men, and you've been doing the work o' three.
Let 's lie off a bit, and see if we can get some better
tobacco from Afghan country and run in some good
liquor ; but no women.'
" * Who *s talking o' women ? ' says Dravot. * I said
wife — a Queen to breed a King's son for the King. A
Queen out of the strongest tribe, that '11 make them
your blood- brothers, and that'll lie by your side and
tell you all the people thinks about you and their own
affairs. That 's what I want.'
*' ' Do you remember that Bengali woman I kept at
Mogul Serai when I was a plate-layer?' says I. *A
fat lot o' good she was to me. She taught me the lingo
and one or two other things ; but what happened? She
ran away with the Station Master's servant and half my
month's pay. Then she turned up at Dadur Junction
in tow of a half-caste, and had the impidence to say I
was her husband — all among the drivers in the run-
ning-shed too ! '
" < We 've done with that,' says Dravot, * these
women are whiter than you or me, and a Queen I will
have for the winter months.'
" ' For the last time o' asking, Dan, do iioty I says.
' It '11 only bring us harm. The Bible says that Kings
382 Greatest Short Stories
ain't to waste their strength on women, 'specially when
they 've got a new raw Kingdom to work over.*
" * For the last time of answering I will,* said Dravot,
and he went away through the pine-trees looking like
a big red devil, the sun being on his crown and beard
and all.
" But getting a wife was not as easy as Dan thought.
He put it before the Council, and there was no answer till
Billy Fish said that he 'd better ask the girls. Dravot
damned them all round. * What 's wrong with me?'
he shouts, standing by the idol Imbra. ' Am I a dog
or am I not enough of a man for your wenches?
Have n't I put the shadow of my hand over this country?
Who stopped the last Afghan raid ? ' It was me really,
but Dravot was too angry to remember. ' Who bought
your guns ? Who repaired the bridges ? Who 's the
Grand-Master of the sign cut in the stone?' says he,
and he thumped his hand on the block that he used to
sit on in Lodge, and at Council, which opened like
Lodge always. Billy Fish said nothing and no more did
the others. ' Keep your hair on, Dan,' said I ; ' and
ask the girls. That 's how it 's done at Home, and these
people are quite English.'
" ' The marriage of the King is a matter of State,'
says Dan, in a white-hot rage, for he could feel, I hope,
that he was going against his better mind. He walked
out of the Council-room, and the others sat still, look-
ing at the ground.
" ' Billy Fish,' says I to the Chief of Bashkai, ' what 's
the difficulty here ? A straight answer to a true friend.'
" ' You know,' says Billy Fish. * How should a man
tell you who knows everything? How can daughters
of men marry Gods or Devils? It 's not proper.*
" I remembered something like that in the Bible ; but
The Man Who Would Be King 383
if, after seeing us as long as they had, they still believed
we were Gods, it was n't for me to undeceive them.
" * A God can do anything,* says I. * If the King is
fond of a girl he '11 not let her die.' — ' She '11 have to,*
said Billy Fish. * There are all sorts of Gods and Devils
in these mountains, and now and again a girl marries
one of them and is n't seen any more. Besides, you two
know the Mark cut in the stone. Only the Gods know
that. We thought you were men till you showed the
sign of the Master.'
^' I wished then that we had explained about the loss of
the genuine secrets of a Master-Mason at the first go-off;
but I said nothing. All that night there was a blowing
of horns in a little dark temple half-way down the hill,
and I heard a girl crying fit to die. One of the priests
told us that she was being prepared to marry the King.
" * I '11 have no nonsense of that kind,' says Dan.
'I don't want to interfere with your customs, but 1*11
take my own wife.' — ' The girl *s a little bit afraid,*
says the priest. * She thinks she 's going to die, and
they are a-heartening of her up down in the temple.*
" ' Hearten her very tender, then,* says Dravot, ' or
I '11 hearten you with the butt of a gun so you '11 never
want to be heartened again.' He licked his lips, did
Dan, and stayed up walking about more than half the
night, thinking of the wife that he was going to get in
the morning. I was n't by any means comfortable, for I
knew that dealings with a woman in foreign parts, though
you was a crowned King twenty times over, could not
but be risky. I got up very early in the morning while
Dravot was asleep, and I saw' the priests talking together
in whispers, and the Chiefs talking together too, and they
looked at me out of the corners of their eyes.
" * What is up. Fish ? ' I say to the Bashkai man,
384 Greatest Short Stories
who was wrapped up in his furs and looking splendid to
behold.
" * I can't rightly say,' says he ; ' but if you can make
the King drop all this nonsense about marriage, you '11
be doing him and me and yourself a great service.'
" * That I do believe,' says I. ' But sure, you know,
Billy, as well as me, having fought against and for us,
that the King and me are nothing more than two of
the finest men that God Almighty ever made. Nothing
more, I do assure you.'
" ' That may be,' says Billy Fish, < and yet I should
be sorry if it was.' He sinks his head upon his great
fur cloak for a minute and thinks. • King,' says he,
* be you man or God or Devil, I '11 stick by you to-day.
I have twenty of my men with me, and they will follow
me. We '11 go to Bashkai until the storm blows over.'
" A little snow had fallen in the night, and everything
was white except the greasy fat clouds that blew down
and down from the north. Dravot came out with his
crown on his head, swinging his arms and stamping his
feet, and looking more pleased than Punch.
" ' For the last time, drop it, Dan,' says I in a whis-
per, * Billy Fish here says that there will be a row.*
" ' A row among my people ! ' says Dravot. * Not
much. Peachey, you 're a fool not to get a wife too.
Where 's the girl ? " says he with a voice as loud as the
braying of a jackass. ' Call up all the Chiefs and
priests, and let the Emperor see if his wife suits him.'
" There was no need to call any one. They were all
there leaning on their guns and spears round the clear-
ing in the centre of the pine wood. A lot of priests
went down to the little temple to bring up the girl, and
the horns blew fit to wake the dead. Billy Fish saunters
round and gets as close to Daniel as he could, and be-
The Man Who Would Be King 385
hind him stood his twenty men with matchlocks. Not
a man of them under six feet. I was next to Dravot,
and behind me was twenty men of the regular Army.
Up comes the girl, and a strapping wench she was, cov-
ered with silver and turquoises but white as death, and
looking back every minute at the priests.
" ' She '11 do,' said Dan, looking her over. ' What 's
to be afraid of, lass? Come and kiss me.' He puts
his arm round her. She shuts her eyes, gives a bit of
a squeak, and down goes her face in the side of Dan's
flaming red beard.
" ' The slut 's bitten me ! ' says he, clapping his hand
to his neck, and, sure enough, his hand was red with
blood. Billy Fish and two of his matchlock-men catches
hold of Dan by the shoulders and drags him into the
Bashkai lot, while the priests howls in their lingo, —
* Neither God nor Devil but a man ! * I was all taken
aback, for a priest cut at me in front, and the Army
behind began firing into the Bashkai men.
*' ' God A'mighty ! ' says Dan. * What is the mean-
ing o' this ? '
'^ * Come back ! Come away ! ' says Billy Fish.
' Ruin and Mutiny is the matter. We '11 break for
Bashkai if we can.'
" I tried to give some sort of orders to my men — the
men o' the regular Army — but it was no use, so I fired
into the brown of 'em with an English Martini and drilled
three beggars in a line. The valley was full of shouting,
howling creatures, and every soul was shrieking, * Not
a God nor a Devil but only a man ! * The Bashkai
troops stuck to Billy Fish all they were worth, but their
matchlocks was n't half as good as the Kabul breech-
loaders, and four of them dropped. Dan was bellow-
ing like a bull, for he was very wrathy; and Billy
25
386 Greatest Short Stories
Fish had a hard job to prevent him running out at
the crowd.
" * We can't stand,' says Billy Fish. * Make a run
for it down the valley ! The whole place is against us.*
The matchlock-men ran, and we went down the valley
in spite of Dravot. He was swearing horrible and cry-
ing out he was a King. The priests rolled great stones
on us, and the regular Army fired hard, and there wasn't
more than six men, not counting Dan, Billy Fish, and
Me, that came down to the bottom of the valley alive.
" Then they stopped firing and the horns in the
temple blew again. ' Come away — for Gord's sake
come away ! ' says Billy Fish. * They '11 send runners
out to all the villages before ever we get to Bashkai. I
can protect you there, but I can't do anything now.'
" My own notion is that Dan began to go mad in his
head from that hour. He stared up and down hke a
stuck pig. Then he was all for walking back alone and
killing the priests with his bare hands ; which he could
have done. * An Emperor am I,' says Daniel, ' and
next year I shall be a Knight of the Queen.'
" ' All right, Dan,' says I ; * but come along now
while there 's time.'
" ' It 's your fault,' says he, ' for not looking after
your Army better. There was mutiny in the midst, and
you did n't know — you damned engine-driving, plate-
laying, missionary's-pass-hunting hound ! ' He sat upon
a rock and called me every foul name he could lay tongue
to. I was too heart-sick to care, though it was all his
foolishness that brought the smash.
"'I'm sorry, Dan,' says I, ' but there 's no accounting
for natives. This business is our Fifty-Seven. Maybe
we '11 make something out of it yet, when we 've got to
Bashkai.'
The Man Who Would Be King 387
" * Let 's get to Bashkai, then,' says Dan, ' and, by-
God, when I come back here again I '11 sweep the valley
so there is n't a bug in a blanket left ! '
**We walked all that day, and all that night Dan was
stumping up and down on the snow, chewing his beard
and muttering to himself.
" * There 's no hope o' getting clear,' said Billy Fish.
' The priests will have sent runners to the villages to
say that you are only men. Why did n't you stick on as
Gods till things was more settled? I 'm a dead man,'
says Billy Fish, and he throws himself down on the snow
and begins to pray to his Gods.
" Next morning we was in a cruel bad country — all
up and down, no level ground at all, and no food either.
The six Bashkai men looked at Billy Fish hungryway
as if they wanted to ask something, but they said never
a word. At noon we came to the top of a flat mountain
all covered with snow, and when we climbed up into it,
behold, there was an Army in position waiting in the
middle !
" *The runners have been very quick,' says Billy Fish,
with a little bit of a laugh. * They are waiting for us.'
" Three or four men began to fire from the enemy's
side, and a chance shot took Daniel in the calf of the leg.
That brought him to his senses. He* looks across the
snow at the Army, and sees the rifles that we had brought
into the country.
li ^We 're done for,' says he. 'They are Englishmen,
these people, — and it 's my blasted nonsense that has
brought you to this. Get back, Billy Fish, and take your
men away ; you 've done what you could, and now cut
for it. Carnehan,' says he, * shake hands with me and go
along with Billy. Maybe they won't kill you. I '11 go and
meet 'em alone. It 's me that did it. Me, the King ! '
388 Greatest Short Stories
" ' Go ! ' says I. ' Go to Hell, Dan. I am with you
here. Billy Fish, you clear out, and we two will meet
those folk.'
" * I 'm a Chief,' says Billy Fish, quite quiet. ' I stay
with you. My men can go.' ^
" The Bashkai fellows did n't wait for a second word
but ran off, and Dan and Me and Billy Fish walked
across to where the drums were drumming and the
horns were horning. It was cold — awful cold. I 've
got that cold in the back of my head now. There 's a
lump of it there."
The punkah-coolies had gone to sleep. Two kero-
sene lamps were blazing in the office, and the perspira-
tion poured down my face and splashed on the blotter as
I leaned forward. Carnehan was shivering, and I feared
that his mind might go. I wiped my face, took a fresh
grip of the piteously mangled hands, and said : " What
happened after that? "
The momentary shift of my eyes had broken the clear
current.
"What was you pleased to say? " whined Carnehan.
" They took them without any sound. Not a little whis-
per all along the snow, not though the King knocked
down the first man that set hand on him — not though old
Peachey fired his last cartridge into the brown of 'em.
Not a single solitary sound did those swines make. They
just closed up tight, and I tell you their furs stunk.
There was a man called Billy Fish, a good friend of us
all, and they cut his throat, Sir, then and there, like
a pig ; and the King kicks up the bloody snow and
says : ' We 've had a dashed fine run for our money.
What 's coming next ? ' But Peachey, Peachey Taliaferro,
I tell you, Sir, in confidence as betwixt two friends, he
lost his head, Sir. No, he did n't neither. The King
The Man Who Would Be King 389
lost his head, so he did, all along o' one of those cun-
ning rope-bridges. Kindly let me have the paper-cutter,
Sir. It tilted this way. They marched him a mile across
that snow to a rope- bridge over a ravine with a river at
the bottom. You may have seen such. They prodded
him behind like an ox. * Damn your eyes ! ' says the
King. <D'you suppose I can't die like a gentleman?'
He turns to Peachey — Peachey that was crying like a
child. ' I 've brought you to this, Peachey,' says he.
' Brought you out of your happy Hfe to be killed in
Kafiristan, where you was late Commander-in-Chief of
the Emperor's forces. Say you forgive me, Peachey.' —
* I do,' says Peachey. * Fully and freely do I forgive you,
Dan.' — ' Shake hands, Peachey,' says he. ' I'm going
now.' Out he goes, looking neither right nor left, and
when he was plumb in the middle of those dizzy dancing
ropes, — * Cut, you beggars,' he shouts ; and they cut,
and old Dan fell, turning round and round and round,
twenty thousand miles, for he took half an hour to fall
till he struck the water, and I could see his body caught
on a rock with the gold crown close beside.
'* But do you know what they did to Peachey between
two pine-trees? They crucified him. Sir, as Peachey's
hand will show. They used wooden pegs for his hands
and his feet ; and he did n't die. He hung there and
screamed, and they took him down next day, and said it
was a miracle that he wasn't dead. They took him
down — poor old Peachey that had n't done them any
harm — that had n't done them any "
He rocked to and fro and wept bitterly, wiping his
eyes with the back of his scarred hands and moaning like
a child for some ten minutes.
" They was cruel enough to feed him up in the temple,
because they said he was more of a God than old Daniel
390 Greatest Short Stories
that was a man. Then they turned him out on the snow,
and told him to go home, and Peachey came home in
about a year, begging along the roads quite safe ; for
Daniel Dravot he walked before and said : * Come along,
Peachey. It 's a big thing we 're doing.' The mountains
they danced at night, and the mountains they tried to
fall on Peachey's head, but Dan he held up his hand,
and Peachey came along bent double. He never let go
of Dan's hand, and he never let go of Dan's head. They
gave it to him as a present in the temple, to remind him
not to come again, and though the crown was pure gold,
and Peachey was starving, never would Peachey sell the
same. You knew Dravot, Sir ! You knew Right Wor-
shipful Brother Dravot ! Look at him now ! "
He fumbled in the mass, of rags round his bent waist ;
brought out a black horsehair bag embroidered with
silver thread ; and shook therefrom on to my table —
the dried, withered head of Daniel Dravot ! The morn-
ing sun that had long been paling the lamps struck the
red beard and blind sunken eyes ; struck, too, a heavy
circlet of gold studded with raw turquoises, that Carne-
han placed tenderly on the battered temples.
*' You be'old now," said Carnehan, " the Emperor in
his 'abit as he lived — the King of Kafiristan with his
crown upon his head. Poor old Daniel that was a mon-
arch once ! "
I shuddered, for, in spite of defacements manifold,
I recognized the head of the ma^i of Marwar Junction.
Carnehan rose to go. I attempted to stop him. He
was not fit to walk abroad. " Let me take away the
whiskey, and give me a little money," he gasped. " I
was a King once. I '11 go to the Deputy Commissioner
and ask to set in the Poorhouse till I get my health.
No, thank you, I can't wait till you get a carriage for
The Man Who Would Be King 391
me. I 've urgent private affairs — in the south — at
Marwar."
He shambled out of the office and departed in the
direction of the Deputy Commissioner's house. That
day at noon I had occasion to go down the Winding hot
Mall, and I saw a crooked man crawling along the white
dust of the roadside, his hat in his hand, quavering dolor-
ously after the fashion of street singers at Home. There
was not a soul in sight, and he was out of all possible
earshot of the houses. And he sang through his Hose,
turning his head from right to left : —
" The Son of Man goes forth to war,
A golden crown to gain ;
His blood-red banner streams afar —
Who follows in his train ? "
I waited to hear no more, but put the poor wretch into
my carriage and drove him off to the nearest missionary
for eventual transfer to the Asylum. He repeated the
hymn twice while he was with me whom he did not in
the least recognize, and I left him singing it to the mis-
sionary.
Two days later I inquired after his welfare of the
Superintendent of the Asylum.
" He was admitted suffering from sun-stroke. He died
early yesterday morning," said the Superintendent. ** Is
it true that he was half an hour bare-headed in the sun
at midday? "
"Yes," said I, "but do you happen to know if he had
anything upon him by any chance when he died ? "
" Not to my knowledge," said the Superintendent.
And there the matter rests.
••
XII
HOW GAVIN BIRSE PUT IT TO
MAG LOWNIE
• #
HOW GAVIN BIRSE PUT IT TO
MAG LOWNIE
FROM
"^ WINDOW IN THRUMS''
By J. M. BARRIE
INTRODUCTORY
REALISM AS A LITERARY METHOD
THE word realism has come to have two
meanings. Primarily it signified a study
of phases of life which had come under
the direct observation of the author. The so-called
realists argued that this was the only scientific and
trustworthy method of presenting Hfe, namely, offer-
ing to the world only that which a man had seen
with his own eyes. To this the idealists replied
that the essential things of life pertained to the
mind and heart, which no man hath seen, and that
the imaginary forms of romance often represent
these unseen-essentials better than any description
of exterior customs or physical surroundings.
As a matter of fact, however, realism was used
by its advocates (perhaps unconsciously) merely
as a literary method. The ordinary man comes
396 Greatest Short Stories
to believe in what he has not seen, largely by the
confidence he gains in recognizing that which he
knows very well. Therefore if we mingle much
that is commonplace and very well known in a
story with that which we wish to teach, the reader
is likely to accept the whole with avidity, because
he recognizes so much that he knows to be actual
and true.
One of the devices of realism is dialect. It
gives an impression of actual and living men and
women. Few readers have any interest in dialect
as such, and it may easily be carried to excess, for
the essential thing after all is the revelation of the
mind and heart of man which the story-writer has
to make.
Among the professed realists of recent times,
none has been more successful than J. M. Barrie.
Nothing so wins upon us as sympathetic under-
standing of all kinds and conditions of men, for it
promotes the chief principle of universal religion,
brotherly love. In stories such as those we find
in " A Window in Thrums," the actual characters
and events are insignificant; but rndirectly they
reveal our own relative lack of importance to
powers higher than we are ; and the genial
humor and affection which pervades these studies
of insignificant lives wins us to a kindred love.
Humor is the saving salt of sane existence, the
corrective to the natural tendency toward depres-
sion and morbidity ; and humor is Barrie's constant
weapon.
Gavin Birse and Mag Lownie 397
In a story like this of Barrie's, we may discover
all the essential principles of the artistic short story,
but united in such different proportions from any
we have met before that we see the possibilities of
the greatest variety, in a seemingly strictly limited
art. All art really gains power and loses nothing
by its limitations.
HOW GAVIN BIRSE PUT IT TO MAG
LOWNIE.
IN a wet day the rain gathered in blobs on the road
that passed our garden. Then it crawled into the
cart-tracks until the road was streaked with water.
Lastly, the water gathered in heavy yellow pools. If
the on-ding still continued, clods of earth toppled from
the garden dyke into the ditch.
On such a day, when even the dulseman had gone into
shelter, and the women scudded by with their wrappers
over their heads, came Gavin Birse to our door. Gavin,
who was the Glen Quharity post, was still young, but
had never been quite the same man since some amateurs
in the glen ironed his back for rheumatism. I thought
he had called to have a crack with me. He sent his
compliments up to the attic, however, by Leeby, and
would I come and be a witness?
Gavin came up and explained. He had taken off his
scarf and thrust it into his pocket, lest the rain should
take the color out of it. His boots cheeped, and his
shoulders had risen to his ears. He stood steaming be-
fore my fire.
" If it 's no ower muckle to ask ye," he said, " I would
like ye for a witness."
2,g8 Greatest Short Stories
" A witness ! But for what do you need a witness,
Gavin?"
" I want ye," he said, '* to come wi' me to Mag's, and
be a witness."
Gavin and Mag Lownie had been engaged for a year or
more. Mag was the daughter of Janet Ogilvy, who was
best remembered as the body that took the hill (that is,
wandered about it) for twelve hours on the day Mr.
Dishart, the Auld Licht minister, accepted a call to an-
other church.
*'You don't mean to tell me, Gavin," I asked, "that
your marriage is to take place to-day?"
By the twist of his mouth I saw that he was only de-
ferring a smile.
" Far frae that," he said.
*'Ah, then, you have quarrelled, and I am to speak up
for you?"
" Na, na," he said, " I dinna want ye to do that above
all things. It would be a favor if ye could gie me a
bad character."
This beat me, and, I dare say, my face showed it.
" I 'm no juist what ye would call anxious to marry
Mag noo," said Gavin, without a tremor.
I told him to go on.
"There 's a lassie oot at Craigiebuckle," he explained,
*' workin' on the farm — Jeanie Luke by name. Ye may
hae seen her? "
" What of her? " I asked, severely.
" Weel," said Gavin, still unabashed, " I 'm thinkin*
noo 'at I would rather hae her."
Then he stated his case more fully.
"Ay, I thocht I Hked Mag oncomrnon till I saw
Jeanie, an' I like her fine yet, but I prefer the other
ane. That state o' matters canna gang on for ever.
Gavin Birse and Mag Lownie 399
so I came into Thrums the day to settle 't one wy or
another."
"And how," I asked, "do you propose gohig about
it? It is a somewhat delicate business."
" Ou, I see nae great difficulty in 't. I '11 speir at Mag,
blunt oot, if she '11 let me aff. Yes, I '11 put it to her
plain."
** You 're sure Jeanie would take you ? "
" Ay ; oh, there 's nae fear o' that."
" But if Mag keeps you to your bargain? "
" Weel, in that case there 's nae harm done."
"You are in a great hurry, Gavin? "
" Ye may say that ; but I want to be married. The
wifie I lodge wi' canna last lang, an' I would like to settle
doon in some place."
" So you are on your way to Mag's now? "
" Ay, we '11 get her in atween twal' and ane."
" Oh, yes ; but why do you want me to go with you? "
" I want ye for a witness. If she winna let me aff,
weel and guid ; and if she will, it 's better to hae a wit-
ness in case she should go back on her word."
Gavin made his proposal briskly, and as coolly as if
he were only asking me to go fishing ; but I did not ac-
company him to Mag's. He left the house to look for
another witness, and about an hour afterwards Jess saw
him pass with Tammas Haggart. Tammas cried in
during the evening to tell us how the mission prospered.
" Mind ye," said Tammas, a drop of water hanging to
the point of his nose, " I disclaim all responsibility in the
business. I ken Mag weel for a thrifty, respectable
woman, as her mither was afore her, and so I said to
Gavin when he came to speir me."
"Ay, mony a pirn has 'Lisbeth filled to me," said
Hendry, settling down to a reminiscence.
400 Greatest Short Stories
" No to be ower hard on Gavin," continued Tammasi
forestalling Hendry, '* he took what I said in guid part;
but aye when I stopped speakin' to draw breath, he says,
* The queistion is, will ye come wi' me ? ' He was michty
made up in 's mind."
" Weel, ye went wi' him," suggested Jess, who wanted
to bring Tammas to the point.
" Ay," said the stone-breaker, " but no in sic a hurry
as that."
He worked his mouth round and round, to clear the
course, as it were, for a sarcasm.
" Fowk often say," he continued, " 'at am quick
beyond the ord'nar' in seeing the humorous side o*
things.'*
Here Tammas paused, and looked at us.
"So ye are, Tammas," said Hendry. "Losh, ye
mind hoo ye saw the humorous side o' me wearin' a
pair o' boots 'at wisna marrows ! No, the ane had a
toe-piece on, an' the other hadna."
" Ye juist wore them sometimes when ye was delvin'.'*
broke in Jess, *^ ye have as guid a pair o' boots as ony
in Thrums."
" Ay, but I had worn them," said Hendry, ♦' at odd
times for mair than a year, an' I had never seen the
humorous side o' them. Weel, .as fac as death (here
he addressed me), Tammas had juist seen them twa or
three times when he saw the humorous side o' them.
Syne I saw their humorous side, too, but no till Tammas
pointed it oot."
" That was naething," said Tammas, " naething ava to
some things I 've done."
" But what aboot Mag? " said Leeby.
"We wasna that length, was we?" said Tammas.
"Na, we was speakin' aboot the humorous side. Ay,
Gavin Birse and Mag Lownie 401
wait a wee, I didna mention the humorous side for
naething."
He paused to reflect.
" Oh, yes," he said at last, brightening up, " I was
sayin' to ye hoo quick I was to see the humorous side o'
onything. Ay, then, what made me say that was 'at in
a clink (flash) I saw the humorous side o' Gavin's
position."
" Man, man," said Hendry, admiringly, " and what
is't?"
*' Oh, it 's this, there 's something humorous in speirin*
a woman to let ye aif so as ye can be married to another
woman."
" I daursay there is," said Hendry, doubtfully.
" Did she let him aff? " asked Jess, taking the words
out of Leeby's mouth.
" I 'm comin' to that," said Tammas. " Gavin pro-
poses to me after I had ha'en my laugh — "
" Yes," cried Hendry, banging the table with his fist,
"it has a humorous side. Ye 're richt again, Tammas,"
"I wish ye wadna blatter (beat) the table," said Jess,
and then Tammas proceeded.
" Gavin wanted me to tak' paper an' ink an' a pen wi'
me, to write the proceedin's doon, but I said, * Na, na,
I '11 tak' paper, but no nae ink nor nae pen, for there '11
be ink an' a pen there.' That was what I said."
*' An' did she let him aff? " asked Leeby.
" Weel," said Tammas, " aff we goes to Mag's hoose,
an' sure enough Mag was in. She was alone, too ; so
Gavin, no to waste time, juist sat doon for politeness'
sake, an* syne rises up again ; an' says he, * Marget
Lownie, I hae a solemn question to speir at ye, namely
this. Will you, Marget Lownie, let me, Gavin Birse, aif? * "
" Mag would start at that ? "
26
402 Greatest Short Stories
" Sal, she was braw an' cool. I thocht she maun hae
got wind o* his intentions aforehand, for she juist replies,
quiet-like, ' Hoo do ye want aff, Gavin ? '
" * Because,' says he, like a book, * my affections has
undergone a change.'
" * Ye mean Jean Luke,' says Mag.
" 'That is wha I mean,' says Gavin, very straitforrard."
"But she didna let him aff, did she?"
" Na, she wasna the kind. Says she, ' I wonder to
hear ye, Gavin, but am no goin' to agree to naething o*
that sort.'
"* Think it ower,' says Gavin.
*' * Na, my mind 's made up,' said she.
** ' Ye would sune get anither man,' he says, earnestly.
"'Hoo do I ken that?' she speirs, rale sensibly, I
thocht, for men 's no sae easy to get.
" * Am sure o't,' Gavin says, wi' michty conviction in
his voice, ' for ye 're bonny to look at, an' weel kent for
bein' a guid body.*
" * Ay,' says Mag, * I 'm glad ye like me, Gavin, for ye
have to tak me.' "
" That put a clincher on him," interrupted Hendry.
" He was loth to gie in," replied Tammas, " so he
says, ' Ye think am a fine character, Marget Lownie, but
ye *re very far mista'en. I wouldna wonxler but what I
was loosin' my place some o' thae days, an' syne whaur
would ye be? — Marget Lownie,' he goes on, * am
nat' rally lazy an' fond o' the drink. As sure as ye stand
there, am a reg'lar deevil ! ' "
"That was strong language," said Hendry, "but he
would be wantin' to fleg (frighten) her?"
" Juist so, but he didna manage 't, for Mag says, * We
a' hae oor faults, Gavin, an' deevil or no deevil, ye 're
the man for me i '
Gavin Birse and Mag Lownie 403
"Gavin thocht a bit/' continued Tammas, "an' syne
he tries her on a new tack. ' Marget Lownie,' he says,
* yer father 's an auld man noo, an' he has naebody but
yersel to look after him. I 'm thinkin' it would be kind
o' cruel o' me to tak ye awa' frae him ? ' "
" Mag wouldna be ta'en wi' that ; she wasna born on
a Sawbath," said Jess, using one of her favorite sayings.
"She wasna," answered Tammas. "Says she, * Hae
nae fear on that score, Gavin ; my father 's fine willin'
to spare me.!'"
"An' that ended it?"
" Ay, that ended it."
" Did ye tak it doun in writin'?" asked Hendry.
"There was nae need," said Tammas, handing round
his snuff-mull. " No, I never touched paper. When I
saw the thing was settled, I left them to their coortin'.
They 're to tak a look at Snecky Hobart's auld hoose the
nicht. It 's to let."
XIII
ON THE STAIRS
ON THE STAIRS
FROM
« TALES OF MEAN STREETS'*
By ARTHUR MORRISON
INTRODUCTORY
SLIGHTNESS AND SUGGESTION
IN the study of Thackeray's "A Princess's
Tragedy," we have already noticed the
artistic value of restraint, and the power
of suggestion ; but in the case of Thackeray this
was only the natural self-repression, of a gentleman
on painful topics. Suggestion as a literary method
in short story writing was reserved for later writers.
We saw something of it in the unexpressed moral
of Maupassant's ** Necklace." In many of Kip-
ling's stories, especially his very short ones, such
as " The Story of Muhammad Din," we may find
still further development of the method. The
editor knows of no better example, however,
than that afforded by Arthur Morrison's *' On
the Stairs." A whole drama is revealed in the
most simple and unpromising realistic details.
4o8 Greatest Short Stories
The story is not a great one in itself, but its
cleverness is fascinating to the student of literary
art
ON THE STAIRS
THE house had been " genteel." When trade was
prospering in the East End, and the ship-fitter
or block- maker thought it no shame to live in the parish
where his workshop lay, such a master had lived here.
Now, it was a tall, solid, well-bricked, ugly house, grimy
and paintless in the joinery, cracked and patched in the
windows : where the front door stood open all day long ;
and the womankind sat on the steps, talking of sickness
and deaths and the cost of things ; and treacherous holes
lurked in the carpet of road-soil on the stairs and in the
passage. For when eight families live in a house, nobody
buys a door-mat, and the street was one of those streets
that are 'always muddy. It smelt, too, of many things,
none of them pleasant (one was fried fish) ; but for all
that it was not a slum.
Three flights up, a gaunt woman with bare forearms
stayed on her way to listen at a door which, opening, let
out a warm, fetid waft from a close sick-room. A bent
and tottering old woman stood on the thi'eshold, holding
the door behind her.
"An* is 'e no better now, Mrs. Curtis?" the gaunt
woman asked, with a nod at the opening.
The old woman shook her head, and pulled the door
closer. Her jaw waggled loosely in her withered chaps :
" Nor won't be ; till 'e 's gone." Then after a certain
pause, " 'E 's goin'," she said.
" Don't doctor give no 'ope? "
" Lor' bless ye, I don't want to ast no doctors," Mrs.
On the Stairs 409
Curtis replied, with something not unlike a chuckle.
" I 've seed too many on *em. The boy 's a-goin', fast ;
I can see that. An' then " — she gave the handle another
tug, and whispered — " he 's been called." She nodded
amain. " Three seprit knocks at the bed-head las'
night ; an' I know what that means ! "
The gaunt woman raised her brows, and nodded.
"Ah, well," she said, ''we all on us comes to it some
day, sooner or later. An' it 's often a *appy release."
The two looked into space beyond each other, the
elder with a nod and a croak. Presently the other pur-
sued, " 'E 's been a very good son, ain't 'e? "
" Ay, ay, well enough son to me," responded the old
woman, a little peevishly ; " an' I '11 'ave 'im put away
decent, though there 's on'y the Union for me after. I
can do that, thank Gawd ! " she added, meditatively, as
chin on fist she stared into the thickening dark over th'C
stairs.
" When I lost my pore 'usband," said the gaunt
woman, with a certain brightening, " I give 'im a
'ansome funeral. 'E was a Oddfeller, an' I got twelve
pound. I 'ad a oak caufin an' a open 'earse. There
was a kerridge for the fam'ly an' one for 'is mates —
two 'orses each, an' feathers, an' mutes ; an' it went the
furthest way round to the cimitry. ♦ Wotever 'appens,
Mrs. Manders,' says the undertaker, ' you '11 feel as
you 've treated 'im proper ; nobody can't reproach you
over that.' An' they could n't. 'E was a good 'usband
to me, an' I buried 'im respectable."
The gaunt woman exulted. The old, old story of
Manders's funeral fell upon the other one's ears with a
freshened interest, and she mumbled her gums rumi-
nantly. " Bob '11 *ave a 'ansome buryin', too," she
said. " I can make it up, with the insurance money.
4IO Greatest Short Stories
an' this, an' that. On'y I dunno about mutes. It *s a
expense."
In the East End, when a woman has not enough
money to buy a thing much desired, she does not say
so in plain words ; she says the thing is an " expense,"
or a ''great expense." It means the same thing, but it
sounds better. Mrs. Curtis had reckoned her resources,
and found that mutes would be an " expense." At a
cheap funeral mutes cost half-a-sovereign and their
liquor. Mrs. Manders said as much.
" Yus, yus, 'arf-a-sovereign," the old woman assented.
Within, the sick man feebly beat the floor with a stick.
"I'm a-comin'," she cried shrilly ; " yus, 'arf-a-sov-
ereign, but it 's a lot, an' I don't see 'ow I 'm to do it
— not at present." She reached for the door-handle
again, but stopped and added, by after-thought, " Un-
less I don't 'ave no plooms." -
"It 'ud be a pity not to 'ave plooms. I 'ad — "
There were footsteps on the stairs: then a stumble
and a testy word. Mrs. Curtis peered over into the
gathering dark. "Is it the doctor, sir?" she asked.
It was the doctor's assistant ; and Mrs. Manders tramped
up to the next . landing as the door of the sick-room
took him in.
For five minutes the stairs were darker than ever.
Then the assistant, a very young man, came out again,
followed by the old woman with a candle. Mrs. Man-
ders listened in the upper dark. " He *s sinking fast,"
said the assistant. " He must have a stimulant. Dr.
Mansell ordered port wine. Where is it?" Mrs.
Curtis mumbled dolorously. " I tell you he must have
it," he averred with unprofessional emphasis (his quali-
fication was only a month old)! " The man can't take
solid food, and his strength must be kept up somehow.
On the Stairs 411
Another day may make all the difference. Is it because
you can't afford it ? " " It 's a expense — sich a expense,
doctor," the old woman pleaded. " An' wot with
*arf-pints o' milk an' — " She grew inarticulate, and
mumbled dismally.
" But he must have it, Mrs. Curtis, if it 's your last
shilling : it 's the only way. If you mean you absolutely
have n't the money — " and he paused a little awkwardly.
He was not a wealthy young man — wealthy young men
do not devil for East End doctors — but he was con-
scious of a certain haul of sixpences at nap the night
before ; and, being inexperienced, he did not foresee the
career of persecution whereon he was entering at his own
expense and of his own motion. He produced five
shillings : " If you absolutely have n't the money, why —
take this and get a bottle — good : not at a public- house.
But mind, at once. He should have had it before."
It would have interested him, as a matter of coinci-
dence, to know that his principal had been guilty of the
selfsame indiscretion — even the amount was identical
— on that landing the day before. But, as Mrs. Curtis
said nothing of this, he floundered down the stair and
out into the wetter mud, pondering whether or not the
beloved son of a Congregational minister might take full
credit for a deed of charity on the proceeds of sixpenny
nap. But Mrs. Curtis puffed her wrinkles, and shook
her head sagaciously as she carried in her candle. From
the room came a clink as of money falling into a teapot.
And Mrs. Manders went about her business.
The door was shut, and the stair a pit of blackness.
Twice a lodger passed down, and up and down, and still
it did not open. Men and women walked on the lower
flights, and out at the door, and in again. From the
street a shout or a snatch of laughter floated up the pit.
412 Greatest Short Stories
On the pavement footsteps rang crisper and fewer, and
from the bottom passage there were sounds of stagger
and sprawl. A demented old clock buzzed divers hours
at random, and was rebuked every twenty minutes by
the regular tread of a policeman on his beat. Finally,
somebody shut the street-door with a great bang, and
the street was muffled. A key turned inside the door
on the landing, but that was all. A feeble light shone for
hours along the crack below, and then went out. The
crazy old clock went buzzing on, but nothing left that
room all night. Nothing that opened the door. . . .
When next the key turned, it was to Mrs. Manders's
knock, in the full morning ; and soon the two women
came out on the landing together, Mrs. Curtis with a
shapeless clump of bonnet. " Ah, 'e 's a lovely corpse,"
said Mrs. Manders. " Like wax. So was my 'usband."
" I must be stirrin','' croaked the old woman, ** an'
go about the insurance an' the measurin' an' that.
There 's lots to do."
'' Ah, there is. 'Oo are you goin' to 'ave, — Wilkins?
I 'ad Wilkins. Better than Kedge, / think : Kedge's
mutes dresses rusty, an' their trousis is frayed. If you
was thinkin' of 'avin' mutes — "
" Yus, yus," — with a palsied nodding, — " I 'm
a-goin' to 'ave mutes : I can do it respectable, thank
Gawd ! "
"And the plooms?"
"Ay, yus, and the plooms too. They ain't sich a
great expense, after all."
THE "WORLD'S BEST" SERIES
NINTH EDITION
A SELECTION FROM THE
BEST ENGLISH ESSAYS
Illustrative of the History of Englisb Pmse Style, with Historical and
Critical Introductions by Sherwin Cody. Thirty-five r-aodya. irimted
on thin Bible paper. Limp cloth, gilt top. $i.2o; dehvcica, $1.28.
The general reader will find in this volume the most charming essays
(thirty-five in all, by ten different writers) which the great humorists and
critics of life have produced. The selection is at the same time scholarly
and popular, and eminently readable. The reviewers are unanimous in
the opinion that it is the best that any one could possibly make.
No better volume could be imagined for a class in rhetoric, in daily or
weekly theme-writing, or in the artistic elements of modern English proee
literature.
CONTENTS
DEQUINCEY: Inventor of Modern
" Impassioned Prose "
The English Mail Coach
Sect. 1. — The Glory of Motion
Going Down with Victory
Sect. II. — The Vision of Sudden Death
Sect. III. — Dream-Fugue: Founded
on the Preceding Theme of Sudden
Death.
Levanna and Our Ladies of Sorrow (Su»"
piria do Profundis)
The Latter-Daj
Preface
General Introduction — The English
Essay and English Prose Style :
I. Historical Review
II. Style, or the Artistic Element in
Prose
III. The Possibilities of Prose
BACON : Master of Condensation
Of Studies (version of 1597)
Of Studies (versioo of 1625)
Of Truih
Of Friendship
SWIFT ; The Greatest English
Satirist
A Taie of a Tub
The Bookseller's Dedication tp th^ Right
Honourable John Lord Somers
The Bpistle Dedicatory to His Royal
Highness Prince Posterity
Preface
The Three Brothers and their Coats
(Sect. II.)
ADDISON : First of the Humorists
bir Roger DeCoverley in the Country
Sir Roger at Home
Sir Roger and Will Wimble
Sir Roger at Church
The Man of the Town
The Fan Exercise
LAMB : Greatest of the Humorists
Letter to Coleridge
A Dissertation upon Roast Pig
Mrs. Battle's Opinions on Whist
Poor Relations
His choice, both of writers and their works, may be heartily commended. —
Boston Transcript.
The book is just what its title promites. ,— cni(«^» necord-Herald.
The delections of the authors studied in this volume have been made with good
discrimination and judgment. — fVtrt$tttr Sfr^
CARLYLE:
Prophet
Characteristics
EMERSON: The Lecturer
Self-Keiiance
MACAULAY: The Rhetorician
The Puritans (Essay on Milton)
Boswell's " Life of Johnson "
The Perfect Historian (Essay on History)
RUSKIN : The Iinpassioned Critic
Sea-Painting (Modern Painters, Vol. I.J
The Virtues of Architecture (Stones of
Venice, Vol. II.)
The Crowi £»f WUd Olive (Introduction
or Preface)
MATTHEW ARNOLD;
tellectual Critic
The In-
Sweetness and
Anarchy)
Light (Culture and
A. C. McCLURG & CO., Publishers, Chicago
FIFTEENTH EDITION
A SELECTION FROM THI
WORLD'S GREATEST SHORT
STORIES
Illufitrative of the History of Short-Story Writing:, with Critical and
Historical Comments by Sherwin Cody. Fourteen Stories. Fif-
teenth Edition Printed on thin Bible paper. Limp cloth, gilt top,
$z.2o; delivered, $1.38.
I. The aeries of fourteen introductions to the various stories constitute
the only comprehensive history of short-story writing as an art ever pub-
lished. With the stories at hand, these introductions also briefly point
out the elementary principles in the artistic construction of any short story,
so giving the reader a key for intelligently reading any story.
4. The stories from the French and Italian have been newly translated
into English that has something of the flavor of the original. Such
translations are not to be found elsewhere.
THE STORIES INCLUDED ARE:
PATIENT GRISELDA, from the THE GOLD-BUG, by Edgar Allan
" Decameron " of Boccaccio Poe
ALADDIN, from the " Arabian THE GREAT STONE FACE, by
Nights" Nathaniel Hawthorne
RIP VAN WINKLE, by Wash- THE NECKLACE AND THE
ington Irving STRING, by Guy de Maupassant
A PASSION IN THE DESERT, THE MAN WHO WOULD BE
by Honori de Balzac KING, by Rudyard Kipling
THE CHRISTMAS CAROL, by HOW GAVIN BIRSE PUT IT
Charles Dickens TO MAG LOWNIE, by J. M.
A CHILD'S DREAM OF A STAR, Barrie
by Charles Dickens ON THE STAIRS, from "Tales
A PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY, of Mean Streets," by Arthur
from " Barry Lyndon," by "W. M. Morrison
Thackeray
H. T. BAKER, IVisUyan University^ Middlettwn^ Conn.
" I find it excellent for class-room use, the selections being for the most part
admirably representative. The short introductions to the stories contain many
suggestive and valuable points. The book deserves to be used in all our leading
colleges."
CHARLES S. PENDLETON, Obtrlin CclUge, Oberlin, Ohio.
" The book was adopted for use in my English Fiction class in Oberlin Col-
lege; also shortly afterwards by Miss Barrows, in-Short Story Writing. I har«
found the book very satisfactory. Mr. Cody's introductions are to my miii4
valuable adjuncts to the collected stories."
A. C. McCLURG & CO., Publishers, Chicago
SIXTH EDITION
rhe BEST POEMS and ESSAYS
and THE BEST TALES
OF EDGAR ALLAN POE
With a series of Critical Introductions and a new Biographical and Critical
Study by Sherwin Cody, and photogravure portraits printed on thin
Bible paper. i8mo, Vol. I, 480 pages ; Vol. II, 476 pages ; each $1.20.
delivered, $i.a8.
Pee is America's greatest literary artist, and Mr. Cody has collected his
critical analyses of his art into a volume which is one of the most practical
text-books on creative composition to be found in modern literature.
The biographical study is complete enough to form a volume in itself.
It is based on documents, and critics seem to agree that it is as fair,
temperate, and judicious a study of Foe's life and character as has ever
been made. Everything of Poe's that is at all worth reprinting is to be
found in these two volumes, which are truly surprising in the amount of
matter they contain. The series of essay-like introductory studies makes
it desirable that these volumes be placed beside Poe's complete works in
every library, public and private, and many will prefer them to any of the-
:omplete editions.
Mr. BLISS PERRY, Editor of Tht Atlantic Monthly^ says :
" It seems to me that you have done a real service to literature by this classifica-
tion and arrangement of Poe's work, fortified by your own careful and suggestive
"knalysis of the methods of his literary art. It was a piece of work well worth
doing, and I think you have done it uncommonly well."
'* In the volume containing what the editor considers to be Poe's best poems and
essays he has attempted four things : to offer a new statement of the facts concern-
ing the author's lifej to give the poems which he believes Poe himself would have
wished preserved ; to gather from his ephemeral reviews those detached portions
which contain his analysis of literary processes and preserves for us the analytic
side of one of the greatest creative literary thinkers; and ftnally to detach from
Poe's " tales " the so-called celestial stories and use them to introduce a new and
condensed version of the great prose poem, " Eureka," which, although artistically
imperfect, is superbly grand in conception and full of beauties which the world
should be loth to lose." — B^sttn Transcript.
" Mr. Cody has rendered a valuable service to students and teachers of literature
in collecting the best critical essays and book reviews of Poe from many sources
ind placing them in connection with his poems. The volume of tales shows good
judgment in the selection of material, and contains all the most famous of the
stories. Particular care has been taken to restore the original text, which has
been much altered by previous editors." — Th* IVorld To-day.
" Any one who wishes to know the best of Poe, and to be introduced to the
sources of his charm, would have no better companion and guide than these two
volumes." — London Times,
" One of the fairest, most temperate, and judicious biographies of Poe eve;
written." — Chicago Tribune.
A. C. McCLURG & CO,, Publishers, Chicago
NINTH EDITION
A SELECTION FROM THE
GREAT ENGLISH POETS
With a Critical Introduction and an Essay on the Reading of English
Poetry by Sherwin Cody. i6mo, over 600 pages, printed on thin
Bible paper, $1.20; delivered, $1.29.
This volume does not conflict with any existing anthology, and it is
marked by all the distinctive features which have made his other books
so useful — the helpful general introduction, the discerning comments on
the work of the great poets, and the instinctive good taste and editorial
sense shown in the selections.
As to the point of view occupied by the Editor in making up the
volume, this can be most interestingly presented by some extracts from his
Preface:
" This volume has been prepared from a different point of view from
that which governed the preceding volumes in this series. To most of us
poetry comes to have a very personal relation. ... I have not been able
to put into this volume by any means all the poems I myself enjoy reading,
and I know there are many others who will miss favorites. I have tried,
however, to give a reasonable introduction to each of the great poets, and
now and then a poem by some one who seems to have more fame as the
author of this poem than as a poet in the poet's full character. . . .
** The introductions to the principal poets are more brief than I should
have liked, and are intended chiefly to give the beginner the right point of
view in taking up the study of a poet he has not yet learned to love.
Great care has been taken to secure a perfect text. Every line has been
compared word by word with the best standard editions."
The Book is divided into Two Parts
Part I is devoted to the following great poets, each introduced as a
Eersonal study and represented by the number of selections indicated
y the figures in parentheses.
I. SHAKESPEARE (56) — as IX. TENNYSON (20)
Lyric Poet X. BROWNING (16)
II. MILTON (11) XI. MATTHEW ARNOLD (x6)
III. BURNS (19) XII. LONGFELLOW (17)
IV. WORDSWORTH (27) XIII. POE (10)
V. COLERIDGE (4) XIV. WHITMAN (19)
VI. BYRON (14) XV. ROSSETTI (13), SWIN-
VII. SHELLEY (11) BURNE (6), MORRIS (3)
VIII. KEATS (13)
Part II is devoted to great poems, representing sixty-four great poets, and
special favorite poems, v^ith notes and comments of a less formal kind.
A. C. McCLURG & CO., Publishers, Chicago
FIFTH EDITION
A SELECTION FROM THE
WORLD'S GREAT ORATIONS
Illustrative of the History of Oratory and the Art of Public Speaking.
Chosen and edited with a series of Introductions by Sherwin Cody.
i8mo. Limp cloth, gilt top, $i.ao.
The admirable introductions provided by Mr. Cody, elaborating on the
conditions and circumstances under which these famous orations were
delivered, make a thorough understanding much more possible. They
help to supply the dramatic setting which enables the reader to imagine
himself an actual auditor, feeling the emotions of those whom the orator
is addressing. The editor has endeavored to present the different ways in
which a speaker may sway his audience, and in his introductions he has
suggested the peculiar advantages of each mode. His standpoint of con-
•ideration has been, however, not so much the effect of eloquence as of the
great questions of rhetorical construction.
It is an invaluable book for any one looking forward to a public career,
and it is a book of models for any class in public speaking or debating.
CONTENTS
DEMOSTHENES: "On the Sheridan — (r^«ifm«^^.
Crown ;' (in part). Translated by ti^g " (from oration on the Begums
the Editor in the trial of Warren Hastings)
CICERO : "I am a Roman Citizen " pOX . " Let us Pause " (from Speech
(from the Oration against Verres). on Rejection of Bonaparte's Over-
Translated by the Editor ^^res for Peace)
^^^^t^^hf" \. I'J ?""^, X°" ERSKINE : In the Stockdale Case
Good News"; "The Sea of Pol- (abridged)
«J^tcriU^^^r"''?T'^°''''\ PATRICK HENRY: "Give me
BOSSUET: Funeral Oration of Liberty, or Give me Death "
Henriette of England (in part). t^.«.ttt-.t •i<tt-t^o't^t:m^ t^ i
Translated by the Editor ^ DANIEL WEBSTER: Reply to
.-TT^.^T,.,, \r„ ^. , f ^ Hayne ; Bunker Hill Oration;
MIRABEAU: The Right of De- Plymouth Oration (selections)
clanng War (second oration) _ t«.t^^t i^t n^r. ^ ^^ t.
«„.^,, .,. ^ • . . LINCOLN: The Gettysburg
CHATHAM : Taxing America Speech
BURKE: On American Taxation GLADSTONE: The Commercial
(abridged); Impeachment of Valueof Art (from Speech on Josiah
Warren Hastings (peroration) ; Wedgwood)
Marie Antoinette (paragraph) inqeRSOLL: Vision of War and
GRATTAN : Declaration of Insh Vision of the Future (from Deco-
Rights ration Day Oration, 1888)
CUR RAN: The Press (libel case) bEECHER: Speech at Liverpool
SHERIDAN: "The Desolation of
Oude " ; " Filial Piety " ; " Jus-
AND OTHER SHORTER SELECTIONS
A. C. McCLURG & CO., Publishers, Chicago
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