_ CHAPTER XVI. WHEREIN IS RECORDED EVENTS WHICH TOOK PLACE ON THE DAY FOLLOWING THE MAJOR'S ARRIVAL AT BARNSTABLE, WITH SUNDRY OTHER QUEER THINGS
THE sun was filling the east with golden filaments, and the sparrows were making the air melodious with their songs, glad, no doubt, at the major's return, when, on the morning following the events I have recorded in the foregoing chapter, I was awakened by a voice singing sweetly under my window. I soon recognized it as the voice of Bessie, whose image rose up in my fancy as the fairest of living creatures. At first, my senses seemed seized with a pleasant delirium; but soon the strains came so sweet and tender that I lost all power over my emotions, while it seemed to me as if my fancy had winged its way to some land where love and joy rules unclouded. "O, sweet transport, whither wilt thou beguile me!" I said with a sigh, as the voice ceased its singing, and the effect was like an electric shock, consuming me with disappointment. But I heard the dulcet echoes mingling faintly with the songs of birds, as if some seraph had strung her lute to give sweet music to the winds; and I was consoled.
After a few moments' pause the voice again broke forth from the garden, and I caught the following words, which, if I can trust my treacherous memory, belong to a song written by the learned Dr. Easley when in the tutelage of his literary career, and heaven knows, (for he was then a priest of slender means,) before he ever thought of translating German or becoming the pensioned puffer of three New York booksellers: "Come, gentle stranger, haste thee hither, Tarry not, for I am lonely--Come and tell me whom thou lovest Or the throbbing mischief will my heart betray." This being a fair and honest specimen of Easley's early attempts at versification, it was said of him by those best qualified to judge, that had he but stuck to the pulpit and sonnet writing, he would in time have become an adept, for he could compose pathetically enough, and so regulate his points as to make his theology appear quite profound. But he had a weakness which ran to the getting of gold, and this betrayed him into the commerce of literature, where he had become a critic of easy virtue, and had attracted about him innumerable adorers, principally maidens of twenty, whose elegant endowments and clever novels he could not sufficiently extol. Besides being a poet and a great praiser of small books, the learned doctor had a rare talent for making ladies' slippers, which, it had been more than once hinted, was the trade of his early youth. It was now charged upon him, though I do not assert it of my own knowledge, that he had found it profitable to become the assassin of criticism and the undertaker of literature, for which offices he was amply qualified, notwithstanding the very serious writers in Putnam's Magazine thought he ought to be transported to Sandy Hook, there to do penance among the breakers a whole November. And this punishment they would no doubt have carried out, but for the two newspapers and four booksellers, who stood in so much need of his virgin goodness that they refused to part with him even for a day.
After another pause, the voice of Bessie again struck up, and this time she sung: "O, had I Ariadne's crown, At morning I would sing to thee--Would sing of dew-drops on thy ringlets, Then my Apollo thou should'st be." This, also, was by the learned Doctor Easley, and is extracted from a poem published in his native village many years ago. Having great confidence in its numerous beauties, which the villagers, being humble people, failed to discover, the doctor resolved to seek his fortune in New York, confident that first rate poetic talent never was appreciated in the country.
The sweetness of Bessie's voice (not the words) so enchanted me, that I arose, dressed myself, and hurried down stairs, and into the reading room, where the little deformed man was premeditating the ill fate of his lecture. He returned my salutation with great earnestness of manner, told me he had walked three times around the square, listening to the birds sing. And, too, he had been regarded by young Barnstable as an object of curiosity. Impatient to engage me in conversation, he drew forth his notes, which he as suddenly shut up and returned to his pocket, on seeing the clerical looking man enter the room, accompanied by his bride, her countenance the very picture of innocence betrayed.
The little deformed man had evidently taken a dislike to the gray haired and milky faced groom; for no sooner had he pocketed his notes than he set to pacing the room rapidly, frisking his fingers alternately behind and before him, and casting half angry glances over his shoulder at him. I took advantage of this display of irrascibility on the part of the lecturer, and passed into the hall, where Bessie, having ceased her singing, was busily arranging the furniture and attending to those little domestic duties which, in towns where fashion rules, are left to untutored servants. She received my salutation with a modest courtesy, but became so confused and agitated as I pressed her hand, that, unable to resist the temptation, I stole a kiss ere she was conscious of my intention. "It is not kind of you, sir," she said, in a half chiding whisper; "you must not do it again." And she set her black eye upon me, inquiringly, and artlessly raised her apron, as if to wipe away the blushes. Fain would I have pressed her to my bosom, and beseeched her to regard me as a brother. But her face suddenly became lighted up with a smile, and such was the perfection of its beauty that to me it seemed created only for an angel. I asked myself if there was on earth any thing I could aspire to with so much gallantry as her love; nor could I suppress the thought, that he who would betray it was unworthy even of the devil.
Bessie quickly regained her temper, and as if suddenly recalling something to mind, began prattling to me in the most artless manner. "Just think, sir," said she, "what a disturbance there is in town this morning." And she laid her hand gently upon my arm. "That queer man they call the major, and who is thought half fool and half philosopher, has got back; and there's always such a time in town when he comes. And, don't you think, he has brought an audacious pig with him. And the pig has gone to work (they say, sir, that he is possessed of a devil) and broke into poor Elder Boomer's fowl yard, and eat up all his chickens. And the brute does such queer things! As for the poor elder, God knows he has a hard enough time to live. He only gets five hundred dollars a year, and what the sewing circle does for him. Only last week the circle gave him new dresses for all his family, and a nice three-ply carpet, which I made for him. I forgot to tell you, too, that about a month since the circle gave him a new set of dimity bed curtains, and two marseilles quilts; and now they will have to make him up the loss of his chickens. Just think of it, sir! And he's such a good old man, and preaches such good sermons. I do wish, you could hear him once, sir." Here Bessie paused to take breath. I assured her that he must be a fortunate man who had such lips to speak his praises. At which she gave me a rogueish look, blushed, and tossed her head reprovingly. Nothing, I replied, would give me so much pleasure, especially did she bear me company, as to attend the elder's church; but, however strong my inclinations, they could not now be gratified, for the imperative nature of my mission left me but one or two days to tarry in Barnstable. This caused her feelings some disquiet; but with great good sense she changed the subject of conversation, and commenced giving me a detailed account of the various kind acts performed by the sewing circle, of which she was a member, and which was chiefly made up of worthy ladies, who sought out the needy and relieved their wants, knowing that charity well bestowed is recorded in heaven.
The sewing circle exercised a sort of paternity over all cases of distress, and according to Bessie, never withheld relief, except when the object requiring it was given to strong drink. In truth, it was held that something must be done for all persons in distress; and so many were the poor foreign families moving into town, that it was seldom the circle had not its hands full. As to the provision prohibiting strong drink, it was found at times to work somewhat inconveniently, inasmuch as most of the objects of charity, (the clergy excepted,) liked a little; and being of foreign birth they could always find the means to get it, though they generally swore they had not wherewith to get a penny loaf.
"And what is worse," resumed Bessie, recurring to the mischievous pig, "as if it wasn't enough that the elder lost all his chickens, but some evil-minded people must go and get into the church, and put a coop full of poor little fowls on the pulpit. O! there's such an ado about it over town!"
It being the custom of the country to breakfast at seven o'clock, and that hour having arrived, a man in a blue smock frock issued from a side door, (Bessie vaulted up the hall as he entered,) and commenced ringing a bell in so loud a manner that I verily thought he would alarm the whole neighborhood. An opening of doors, and a general movement for the dining room, a long, simply furnished, but exquisitely clean apartment, was now made. A table covered with linen of snowy whiteness, and set out with great good taste, ranged up the center of the room; and we sat down to a breakfast of steak, and ham, and eggs, and cold chickens, and fish balls, and hot rolls, and corn cakes, and brown bread-all prepared so nice and delicately, that even the most fastidious could have found nothing to grumble at. Indeed it was said of the the landlord of the "Independent Temperance," that he spared neither pains nor expense in the management of his house, which had gained much fame over the country, though it had thrice made him a bankrupt with three score of creditors, who were always ready to say wicked things of him. Some people said if the temperance society would only let him have his way, he would pay, and no thanks to anybody.
Bessie, and two trimly dressed maidens of riper years, waited upon the guests, nor thought the occupation bemeaning. And so nimble were their movements, and so gentle the manner in which they dispensed their courtesies, that I began to regret my bachelorhood, and to wish all male attendants exiled to Nantucket, where their habitual unclean condition would find a welcome among the whalemen.
I had well nigh dispatched my breakfast, when there arose a loud noise, as of voices in dispute, in the bar-room. Bessie began to tremble from head to foot, and to turn pale. "You must give up the pig, or stand the chances-now mind that!" said a voice which I at once recognized as that of the renowned Major Potter.
"Heaven knows I am a man of peace; but you must make good the loss I have suffered. All this trouble and mischief is done by the audacious brute you have brought into the town. You go out for good, and always come home bringing the town trouble. I have warned you of the error of your ways. But since you take not heed, we shall see what virtue there is in the Squire." This was said in a more modified tone of voice. Bessie said that it was the voice of Elder Boomer.
"You needn't think you are such a treasure! The town can get along well enough without you. By my military reputation, if I don't think all this ado about the poor pig is a trick to get the advantage of a neighbor you imagine hasn't got as good a lien upon heaven as yourself. Now, good man, do you take the safest plan, give the animal up to its owner, and trust to heaven for the price of the chickens, for it is written somewhere, that peace makers, being blessed, should not be peace breakers-"
"To quarrel is not my desire," interrupted the elder; "for such would not become me, who have no experience in arms; but I enjoin you to give up the life you are living, and so turn your energies to Christ's truth, that you may become worthy of heaven."
"Heaven has nothing to do with my pig!" rejoined the major. "Nor do I think this talking of heaven, while keeping him in bondage, will amount to much. Come! turn him out, be a christian, practice what you preach, and trust to heaven for the reward, as you would have me do!" To this the elder replied somewhat testily, that he would keep the animal fast locked up until the damages were settled, notwithstanding his faith in future rewards was in nowise shaken. I entered the bar room and found the major thrusting his hands into the huge pockets of his trowsers, walking round the elder, who was a man of meek aspect, and singularly lean of figure. Then canting his head with an air of self complacency, he enjoined the elder not to separate his works from his faith.
No sooner had the major caught a glance of me, than he approached, saluted me as became his military rank, and drew me aside to show me how handsomely the Patriot had recorded his arrival. This done, he commenced recounting the causes of his dispute with the parson, who would every few minutes speak up, and dispute the truth of his assertion, which so displeased the major, that had the parson been a fighting man, he would have challenged him to mortal combat, as it is called. As it was, he contented himself with getting in a passion, and swearing to have revenge, though it cost him six years' separation from his wife, Polly Potter.
Although famous for his disregard of truth, the major affected never to have his word disputed, and was at all times ready to draw his sword in its defence. "Heaven, as you know, knows all things, sir," said he, addressing himself to me; "and it knows me incapable of doing a dishonorable act. And therefore I say to you, for I hold it an honor and no disgrace to be a politician, that if you will hear patiently the cause of my dispute with this parson, I will accept your decision in the matter as final. But, heaven save the mark! use your judgment a little, sir, and be not like some of our judges, who seek to please those who promise most, and having little virtue, ask you to accept their good advice in excuse for their evil example." The major having said this with an air of conciliation, gave his head a significant toss, and his trowsers, which had got loose about his hips, a few twitches into place.
It now came to the parson's turn to speak. He shook his head at first, and was not a little reluctant about acceding to such terms; but on being assured of my position as a politician, who had done so much for Cape Cod, and the hard cider campaign, he resolved to accept my decision as final. Meanwhile, the major had screwed up his courage, and was making a circle round the parson, and loudly calling upon the landlord to bear witness that it had been his motto through life to wrong no man.
Numerous idlers had by this time gathered round the disputants, each giving his opinion on the merits of the question, and offering to back it up with dollars or drinks. Indeed, some of the opinions delivered by them were quite as profound as any delivered by our City Justices, and indeed discovered a superior sense of prudence. But it soon became evident that popular opinion was on the side of the major and his pig. And popular opinion was right, the major said, and ought to be respected all over the world. At this juncture of affairs, the lean figure of the nonresistant, (who was sure not to be far off when there was any chance of a disturbance,) stood in the doorway, and immediately engaged in the dispute. "I have not come (heaven knows I have not!) to give an opinion; but as I am here, it may be as well so to do, for heaven knows I am a man of peace, which it is my mission to preserve." The nonresistant was here interrupted by the major, who squared up to him with clenched fists, and bid him begone, or he would make splinters of him in a trice. The man, however, was not daunted by such threats, and getting his choler up, told the major he verily believed him to be a mixture of Jew and Celt, and as such, always more ready to talk than fight. He then told the parson, that although he held him in no very high favor, he would hint for his own sake, that he could in no way get the better of his enemy so well as by releasing the pig from custody, and delivering him into the hands of his owner, saying: "'Neighbor, prudence being the twin brother of peace, and both being acceptable to heaven, I have thought it well to restore thee thy pig, that thou mayest comfort him. He has eaten up my chickens, it is true, and he has otherwise done me grievous harm; but I freely forgive him, seeing that heaven made him a brute. Thou mayest take care of him; do for him what seemeth good; and know that as a christian I bear thee no malice. Let the good offset the evil, and I will trust in heaven to repair the loss I have suffered.'"
The nonresistant held that kindness was of itself so great a weapon, that it would incite generosity in the major-in a word, that he would give all his tin ware, with old Battle thrown in, rather than let such goodness suffer. But the major was not so easily seduced, and, calling the nonresistant a miscreant, he again bid him begone, or he would hasten his exit with the toe of his boot. On assenting to sit in judgment on the case in dispute, I took the precaution to stipulate that peace be preserved, and that the one should keep his lips sealed while the other was making his statement. But the parson commenced his statement by declaring the pig to be possessed of the devil; indeed it could not be otherwise, he said, since the strange antics it performed, and which he minutely described, betrayed a desire in him only to do evil. This the major immediately rose to dispute; and thrusting his hands into the ample pockets of his breeches, he declared with great emphasis, that he would not hear a word said against the pig's morals and sagacity, seeing that he had been reared and educated in the care of the clergy. In truth, he had given out so many proofs of rare sagacity, that the major stated it as his intention to speedily proceed with him to New York, there to have his "Life and Times" written by the erudite Easley, who was said to be strangely profound as a critic, in which capacity he wrote for three newspapers, and read for three or more publishers, all of whom where celebrated for not selling less than one hundred thousand copies of every work to which they affixed their imprint, though it was said of them that they had thrown to the public no end of literary carrion, which Easley had praised.
Order being restored, the major gave way to the parson, who closed his case by asserting that his poverty entitled him to compensation. The major now rose, and with considerable clearness, set forth the fact, that no evidence had been produced to show either that the pig was disposed to evil, or that he had devoured a single chicken. Feathers were scattered round, but feathers might have been laid there as a blind by some rascal who had divers evil designs against the hen roosts of his neighbors. Christians ought always, the major contended, to take a generous view of things before they couched the fatal spear. Again, there was neighbor Kimball's pet fox, an arrant rascal, who was known to have a strange penchant for young chickens, and had committed depredations enough to consign him to the gallows.
The above view of the case somewhat modified the parson's temper, and as he would not have those present think him less than a Christian gentleman, who would rather go supperless to bed than wrong his fellow, he, in the blandest manner, begged them not to think for a moment that he intended wrong. So, with great sanctity of countenance, he laid his hand upon his heart, called Omnipotence to witness that he bore the major no ill will, and was ready to atone for aught he had said damaging to his feelings. And this display of repentance well nigh dissolved the major into tears. The disputants now shook hands, and swore eternal friendship. The major bowed, and placed his hand to his heart; and the parson bowed, and placed his hand to his heart; and thus was I relieved from rendering a verdict, which most likely would have pleased neither. It was likewise intimated to the parson, that the sewing circle would make good his loss, with fourfold interest, which consoled him much. Together then the two friends, without further ceremony, set out to release the animal from bondage, congratulating one another that they had been wise enough to keep out of the hands of lawyers. On arriving at the parson's yard, to which they were followed by a crowd of idlers, they were not a little surprised to find that the pig had taken his departure, having first beaten the dog in a fair fight, and twice driven the kitchen maid frightened into the house. Great anxiety was now manifested to see an animal of such rare qualities; and on further search being made, he was discovered in neighbor Kimball's yard, fraternizing with his pet fox, and otherwise conducting himself so unbecomingly, as to make it evident that the friends of free love had inducted him into the mysteries of their system. In truth, he bore no small resemblance to a few of the disciples of that very accommodating system, for he was lean of figure, had a long, narrow head, and a vacant look out of the eyes.
"Duncan! my own Duncan!" ejaculated the major, his broad face flushed with joy. The animal raised his snout, gave a significant grunt, and ceasing his caressings, ran to his master, a double curl in his tail. Having got possession of his property, the major returned thanks within himself, invoked a blessing on the head of the parson, whom he cursed in his heart, and set out for home, followed by his pig and a score of mischievous boys, making the very air resound with their hootings. _