duration, when the speaker slipped out, remounted, and proceeded on his journey. The incident was the occasion of great and mysterious interest, for a long time afterwards, in the quiet country neighborhood. No imagination could conceive who the wonderful speaker might be, and many insisted it must have been, indeed, "an angel from heaven." Some years afterwards, at the session of a Const.i.tutional Convention in Ma.s.sachusetts, Mr. King rose to make a motion. He had no sooner begun, than a Quaker member started up from a back seat, and, carried away by the first glimpse at solution of the long-standing mystery, cried out, "That"s the man that spoke in our meetin"."
Provision for the instruction of youth was liberal, and not long previously the most famous, and I believe the longest established academy of the day, flourished in the immediate neighborhood, in all its glory. Of the school-books then in use, I cannot but think that one in particular, Murray"s English Reader, was a better manual than any other which has since been produced. For it was mainly made up of extracts from the writings of the best authors, in the best age of English literature, and I can answer that its lessons were calculated to make impressions on the youthful mind, never to be forgotten. But the prevalent idea, of late years, seems to have been to nationalize school-books, so as to narrow their teachings, and thus to make our future fellow-citizens partisans instead of men. But literature and learning are confined to no age or nation; and meaning in no sense to say a word which could abate the ardor of manly patriotism in any bosom, it is certain that much is to be learned from the history of other people beside our own; and I suppose there are standards of high intellectual attainment in the past,--in poetry and eloquence, and various ranges of thought and expression,--which never have been and are not likely to be surpa.s.sed. The deluge of modern transitory literature had not then begun to flow. But, to say nothing of the "Scottish Chiefs," and "Thaddeus of Warsaw," over the pages of which, doubtless, millions of youthful eyes have formerly shed copious tears, we had Miss Edgeworth"s writings, those of Mrs. Grant, of Laggan, the novels of Charlotte Smith, the Memoirs of Baron Trenck, and, perused a little stealthily, Peregrine Pickle and Roderick Random; and in poetry Henry Kirke White and Montgomery were favorites; nor am I ashamed to say, that Cottle"s "Alfred" was read aloud at our fireside of evenings, with an interest due to the story, perhaps, as much as to its poetical ability. Original American productions were few; the importation of new works from abroad was not large, and the demand for reprints a good deal limited. But we had the well-known books of sterling value at command, and our publishers occasionally favored us with new editions.
One of my early studies was Guthrie"s Grammar of Geography, a ponderous volume of English manufacture, which belonged in our family; and I was fascinated with Pope at almost as early an age as that in which he first "lisped in numbers." I see, by the way, that Forster, in his Life of d.i.c.kens, quotes from a letter of Scott, in which he refers to the scarcity of books at Edinburgh in his time.
In connection with this reference to our means of intellectual cultivation, I am reminded of an incident ill.u.s.trative of a faculty commonly attributed to Yankees, that is New Englanders, though there is reason to believe that some other parts of the country are quite as liberally gifted with the qualities of "Yorkshire." It affords a striking instance of shrewdness on the one side, and of lamentable deficiency of it on the other. This was before the town had exchanged its original simpler mode of regulating its munic.i.p.al affairs for the form of a city government. On a certain occasion the School Committee became dissatisfied with the master of one of the higher schools, after a brief trial of his qualities, and, as delicately as the subject permitted, requested him to resign his place. The master was not a native of the town, or of the "region round about," so that it was a mere question of qualifications, real or otherwise, between himself and his employers. He demurred, unless his salary were paid him for the unexpired considerable part of the year for which he alleged himself to have been engaged; but finally consented, if the chairman of the committee would only furnish him with a certificate of honorable discharge. The chairman, at this easy rate of saving the town"s money, wrote it, without suspicion of its effect. Thereupon, the master read it, put it into his pocket, and by virtue of the doc.u.ment, demanded payment of the sum in question. It was paid; and the triumphant master forthwith proceeded--
"To fresh woods and pastures new."
The state of things, in regard to our reading resources, was before the modern facilities for gadding about existed; and while those who find time lying heavy on their hands can now steam it a hundred miles to make a morning-call, journeying was then both more tedious and more expensive, seldom undertaken except as an affair of business, or with the deliberate purpose of a long-concerted visit; and a good part of the day was consumed in travelling half that distance by public conveyance. The consequence was, that people"s pleasures, with their duties, laid mostly at home, or near at hand. Hence family and friendly ties were more closely drawn. The better feelings of our nature were, I think, deeper, than when scattered over a wide but thin social surface; just as the water in a well is more concentrated, than if diffused in the basin of a pond. To some extent, therefore, wholesomely isolated, besides the ordinary round of not very formal visiting parties, there were reading circles, for those who were prompted by intellectual yearnings, frequented by young ladies and gentlemen, married or single, at which pa.s.sages from the better cla.s.s of books were read aloud by such of the male members as felt competent to the exercise, by turns. In fact, taking into view the intelligence, the inexpensive accomplishments, and the unaffected manners of the fairly educated among us, it has not fallen to the lot of most persons to meet with any society more really agreeable.
St. James"s, however, and the congregation of the successors of those who founded the First Church, who had at length become what was called "liberal," in contrast with the orthodoxy of the rest of the town, aspired to a higher degree of gentility and accomplishment than the commonalty; and, in evidence that we were not bigoted, my mother would sometimes allow me, when a boy, and desirous of some change, to attend service of an afternoon, at the latter place of public worship with some friends of the family who waited upon its ministrations. Of the diversions of the common people I particularly remember one under the curious name of a "Joppa Jine" (join); to which I allude from the oddity of its name, derived from a part of the town so called by the river-side, when several families of neighbors and friends contributed their respective quota of a common feast, and repaired to the island at the mouth of the river to enjoy a day of leisure and merriment.
In a certain cla.s.s, the ancient p.r.o.nunciation of many English words was maintained, doubtless brought by the ancestors of New England families from "home," and transmitted to their descendants; such as _airth_ for earth, _fairm_ for firm, _sartain_ for certain, _pint_ for point, en_vy_ for envy, _ax_ with the broad _a_ for ask, _housen_ for houses, _his"n_ and _her"n_ for his and hers, _rare_ for rear; as, for instance, the horse _rares_ up; and sounding the _l_ in would. Common enough names, too, were clipped or contracted in English fashion. Thus, the names of Norwood and Harwood became Norrod in sound and Harrod in spelling; and the name of Currier, whether with any reference or not to the French _Cuir_, for leather, was not long since uniformly p.r.o.nounced _Kiah_, with the long _[=i]_; Thurlow was strangely transformed into _Thurrill_; and Pierpont, often formerly spelled Pierpoint, with entire neglect of its derivation, was p.r.o.nounced _Pearpint_, by old-fashioned people, the first syllable approximating to the original formation of _pierre_.
In connection with this modification of language, I observe in a daily paper how much a worthy old lady puzzled her minister, for a moment, by inquiring the meaning of "silver shiners for Diana," in the Bible; but a good deacon, at an evening meeting in the chapel of their house of worship, in our town, sadly disturbed the gravity of the religious a.s.sembly, by reading it _silver shins for Dinah_!
----- [10] The late Mr. Edward Everett is authority (with me) for the story, that on the occasion of the visit of Washington to New England, in 1789, Parsons was appointed to deliver the address of welcome, on the part of the town, and said to his students, "Well, boys, I am to make this address. Now, go to work and write it, and I will deliver the best." He chose the one prepared by Adams.
CHAPTER VII.
I trust it will not be thought inappropriate to the allusion already made to our reading circles, if I here insert a _jeu d"esprit_, the production of one of the members, indicating a certain forwardness in the sphere of literary investigation, and affording a plausible solution of a literary problem, which had been so long shrouded in mystery, namely, the true narrative of "Old Grouse in the Gun-room."
This is the name of the story to which Goldsmith alludes in his comedy, "She Stoops to Conquer." Mr. Hardcastle, the host of the occasion, in preparation for the dinner he is about to give his guests, charges his rustic servants that if he should say a good thing at the table, they are not to burst out laughing, as if they were a part of the company to be entertained. Diggory, thereupon replies to his master,--"Then, ecod, your worship must not tell the story of "Ould Grouse in the Gun-room." I can"t help laughing at that--he! he! he!--for the soul of me. We have laughed at that these twenty years--ha! ha! ha!" Mr. Hardcastle admits, that this pet narrative of his may properly be considered an exceptional case. On the other hand, it has uniformly foiled the researches of critics and commentators to ascertain what this story really was which "Squire Hardcastle," in the exuberance of his own enjoyment of it, gave them the liberty to laugh at, if they liked. It has been generally supposed, indeed, that the story itself was, in fact, non-existent, and that the ingenious author of the play merely invented the t.i.tle in order to show off the uncouth peculiarities which it was his object to display.
Now, it so happens, that the means are not wanting for the solution of this mystery, and in ill.u.s.tration of the life of a writer and a man so interesting as Goldsmith, I am glad to be able to clear up the critical embarra.s.sment. Years ago, the writer of this article fell by chance into the company of Miss Goldsmith, grandniece of Mrs. Johnson, who was housekeeper of old Mr. Featherston, of County Kerry, Ireland. She knew the story in question very well, and it is gratifying to be able to verify the authenticity of the allusion of a great poet and writer in general, of whom Dr. Johnson has said, in those familiar words in his epitaph, that he touched nothing which he did not adorn, and whose character has been very much misunderstood, chiefly by reason of the misrepresentations of Boswell. This parasite of Johnson, who has given us one of the most entertaining books of biography ever written, was jealous not only of Goldsmith"s literary reputation, so far as it might rival that of his special idol, but also of the real hold which Goldsmith, because of his simplicity as well as his genius, had upon the affections of the great moralist. While he was himself admitted to the high literary society which he frequented, on terms of sufferance chiefly, Boswell took every pains to disparage poor Goldsmith. The poet, whose writings possess a charm so seldom paralleled, it must be allowed, gave no little occasion for depreciation, by his want of firmness of character; and Boswell maliciously set forth all his singularities and weaknesses in the most ludicrous point of view. Whoever will take pains, however, to read his delightful "Life" by John Forster, will find the general impressions on the subject very materially corrected, and will see, that, if the hard-driven bard had many faults, he had also many virtues, which, as Lord Bacon remarks, is "the posy of the best characters."
But to the veritable story of "Old Grouse in the Gun-room." It seems, according to the narrative of Mrs. Johnson, that the family of Mr.
Featherston were seated at the tea-table, at the close of a chilly day, a bright fire blazing on the hearth, and the servants, as usual, being in attendance. On a sudden, a tremendous crash was heard in a distant part of the ancient mansion, followed by a succession of wails of the most lugubrious and unearthly character, which reverberated through the echoing pa.s.sage-ways of the house. Whatever the cause of the sounds might be, there was no doubt they were of the most horrifying description. The family, consisting of the "Squire, a maiden sister, and one or two younger persons, jumped from their seats in the utmost consternation, while Patrick and the rest of the domestics rushed from the room in a state of terror more easily to be conceived than described, and huddled together in the kitchen, as far as possible from the occasion of their fright.
Imagine a lonely country-house, a quiet and well-ordered family seated at their evening meal, after dark, of a somewhat gloomy day, the apartment imperfectly lighted by the glowing fire, and according to such conveniences for the purpose as old times ordinarily afforded; the conversation, perhaps, turning on such unexciting topics as the weather, past, present, and to come, or the thoughts reverting, it may be, to such mundane topics as the expected game of whist or backgammon,--and the scene suddenly broken in upon by the most startling and terrific sounds, which seemed to result from no intelligible cause, and for which it seemed impossible to account by reference to any merely human agency. The young folks, after their first scream of terror, sat dumb, pale, and utterly helpless.
"It"s the Banshee!" screamed Aunt Nelly, sinking back, in a faint, into her chair.
"It"s the devil, I believe," cried the "Squire, who, notwithstanding age and infirmity, retained a good deal of that original pluck, which had formerly distinguished him as an officer in his Majesty"s military service. "Yes, it is the devil, I verily believe; and there is no way but to send for the priest, to get him out of a house that never was troubled in this way before. Where are those sneaking curs?" as Patrick and the rest in a body peeped into the room through the door they had forgotten to shut in their flight, and too much frightened to stay quietly anywhere. "Patrick," called out the "Squire, "go at once for Father O"Flaherty."
At this moment, another preternatural yell, long-toned and of the most mournful cadence, burst upon their ears, and the dismayed servants fairly tumbled over each other and sprawled and scrambled through the pa.s.sage, in their haste to get away. The "Squire followed and ordered Patrick forthwith to mount Sorrel and hasten for the priest, at the village, a mile or more away.
"O Lord! your worship," cried that valiant man-of-all-work,--though aided in the day-time by two or three a.s.sistants from the village,--"O Lord!
your worship! only ask me anything but that"--as, of course, on such occasions people are ready to do all but the very thing which the exigency demands,--"O Lord! your worship"s honor! I couldn"t for the world go round _that_ corner of the house, to get to the stable; but if Nancy here--now Nancy, darlint, I know you will, honey--if she"ll only go with me, I"ll run for his reverence as fast as my poor legs, that"s all of a tremble, will carry me"--shrewdly reflecting, as did Nancy also, that the farther they left the house behind, they left the danger, too.
This affair being hastily arranged, as the two ready messengers proceeded towards the door, a quick step was heard upon the gravel, followed by an emphatic knock, and the embodied household fell back with renewed trepidation; when fortunately who should it be but Father O"Flaherty himself, who found the "Squire, his family, and servants all huddled together in the hall.
"Good-evening to you, "Squire," said he; "and faix, what is the matter that you all look so pale? The holy saints forbid that any ill luck has come to this house!"
Again, rang echoing through the open doors and empty rooms the same portentous sound, rendered none the less terrific that its tones were partly subdued by distance. "Holy Father!" exclaimed the priest, crossing himself--"what is that? Has Satan dared to cross this blessed threshold?"
Upon this, half a dozen tongues began to relate the circ.u.mstances of terrors only too manifest; but Mr. Featherston silenced them, and proposed to Father O"Flaherty to accompany him to the investigation of the mystery. Accordingly they solemnly proceeded towards the scene of alarm, the "Squire having provided himself with a long-disused sword which hung over his mantel-piece, and the priest, more spiritually, brandishing his cross, and muttering "_Vade retro, Satanas!_" and such other exorcisms as occurred to him on the way. The whole body of the inmates of the mansion followed, closely though tremulously, upon the footsteps of the advanced guard, and, indeed, afraid to be left behind.
As they reached the neighborhood of the door, whence the sounds appeared to come, there was a truly awful noise of scampering round the room and pattering, as it were, within.
"The saints defend us!" cried the priest, falling back, as this new demonstration was responded to by the screams of the females, who sank to the floor, in the extremity of their terror, when another horrible yell sounded close at hand.
"It"s he, I verily believe," said the priest; "the holy saints be about us! It"s he, I wager. Lord, forgive us! for I heard the sound of his hoofs. But where"s the dog?"
"The dog!" cried the "Squire. "Why didn"t I think of that before! Open the door, I say, Pat, you cowardly vagabond!"
At this instant, there was a tremendous bounce against the door, which forced the latch, and out tumbled Old Grouse, capering among the party, who still screamed and scattered out of his way, not yet convinced that the Evil One was not loosed and bodily among them.
The relieved household at length returned to their interrupted avocations, and Pat declared to the folks in the kitchen, that all the while he knew it was the dog, only he kept up the fright for the sake of the joke. It seemed that the "Squire had been out with his gun that day, and had shut the big dog which accompanied him into the gun-room, upon his return. The dog, no doubt fatigued with his excursion, had stretched himself out in a corner of the room, where various articles tending to his comfort lay disposed. He had remained, until tired of his confinement he had risen, and fumbling about had thrown down an ancient heavy shield, which produced the first cause of alarm, no less to himself than to the household. The moon shining through the window had attracted his attention, and he began to bay, as dogs sometimes will. The sudden fright, and the distance of the gun-room from the family apartment, served to modify the intonation, and in his confusion of mind Mr.
Featherston failed to recognize his voice. "Indeed," said he, "I never knew the whelp to bay before."
As time wore on, and the story had often been told by him, it lost none of its original features, except, perhaps, the remembrance of his own agitation. But the fright of the family and his domestics, the a.s.sent of the priest to their superst.i.tious fears, and the mortal terror which overwhelmed them, when out bounded the s.h.a.ggy black monster of a dog and in an instant was pawing them all round, in his ecstasy of escape, and whatever else was ludicrous in the adventure, was oftentimes related by the "Squire, with all the aid it could derive from a somewhat lively imagination and considerable power of native eloquence.
And now, if I have only invented this story of "Old Grouse in the Gun-room," for the entertainment of my readers, I have at least attached a tale, which may be thought to have some plausibility, to a famous t.i.tle, which has run through the world, for so many years, without any tale at all.
CHAPTER VIII.
In a note at the end of Chapter V. of "Waverley," Sir Walter Scott remarks:--"These introductory chapters have been a good deal censured as tedious and unnecessary. Yet there are circ.u.mstances recorded in them which the author has not been able to persuade himself to retract or cancel." So if, in giving certain loose hints rather than sketches of characters and manners in a very interesting town, ardently beloved by all who have ever had any near connection with it, during a former generation of its inhabitants, I should be thought to have set down too many "unconsidered trifles," I can only shelter myself under the shadow of his great name, and plead that I had not the heart to leave them out, as they occurred to my memory while writing; and however they may lack, as they necessarily must, the storied value of Sir Walter"s fascinating fictions, they have at least this merit,--that every narrative and anecdote in these pages is a veritable fact.
I should not wonder, however, if a couple of stories or so, which I am about to relate, were looked upon as purely fict.i.tious by the philosophical reader. I do not pretend that the facts stated were within my own experience, only that I positively heard them related by persons of the strictest veracity, who were actual observers or actors in the transactions of which they professed to give an account. People ridicule, nowadays, when in company, the superst.i.tions of earlier times; though it is not unlikely that the nerves of some of the boldest contemners of marvellous manifestations, once universally accepted as true, might still tremble, if alone and under circ.u.mstances calculated to awaken apprehension and to puzzle the understanding. Notwithstanding the accepted theory, that the very pretence of witchcraft, for example, was exploded a hundred and fifty years ago, and the idea of an apparition, in spite of Dr. Johnson"s belief, and that of others as wise and stout as he, would be scouted as preposterous in cultivated circles, I believe that there are many places in New England where undoubting faith in both superst.i.tions still prevails, and I know that within a third part of the period above mentioned, very many creditable persons in a certain place in New England accepted the strangest occurrences of both kinds, upon the supposed evidence of their sober senses.
We will imagine, then, that we are sitting in a circle around the fire-place in Uncle Richard"s s.p.a.cious kitchen, on the evening of Christmas-day, the room lighted only by the blazing logs upon the hearth, the glow of which glanced along the walls and drew brilliant reflections from the brightly-scoured dishes and other utensils of metal, which stood ranged upon the shelves. We were quite a party, and had made merry, according to our fashion, during the day. Uncle Richard was himself the most conspicuous of the group. I have said that he was well-to-do, and he was certainly a gentleman in spirit and bearing. The black dress which he a.s.sumed on Sundays, and other occasions of public importance, set off his figure well, and his white hair gathered into a pig-tail behind and tied up with a ribbon by some one of his daughters, of a morning, gave him a venerable appearance, at least in the eyes of us youngsters, beyond what the actual number of his years warranted. For I have observed that those who may have seemed to us approaching the verge of old age, in our youth, begin to look almost like coevals again, as we ourselves have advanced in the stage of manhood. Aunt Judith, on the other hand, who was a maiden lady of a certain age, was dressed with all the care and neatness which somewhat scanty means enabled her to apply, and, as I am about to produce her as a witness, I feel it inc.u.mbent upon me to a.s.severate, that, being a devoutly religious woman, I have never met in my life with a more conscientious and scrupulously truth-telling person. After tea, my uncle had requested the young people present to sing a new Christmas Hymn, not to be found in the Prayer Book, but the production of a devout poetical acquaintance, in the performance of which he joined with a ba.s.s voice of singular compa.s.s and melody.
THE CHRISTMAS HYMN.
How hallowed grew the night, When the auspicious light Of heaven descending shone along the plain; And wondering shepherds heard The soul-inspiring word, That swelled exultant the celestial strain!
"Peace and good-will to earth, For, lo, a Saviour"s birth!"
So the high song addressed the simple swains; "The gates of life again Open to guilty men, For G.o.d, the G.o.d of love, eternal reigns!"
What though all earth was still, And no ecstatic thrill In wakening lands the gracious message hailed; Yet through heaven"s highest cope Echoed immortal hope, And h.e.l.l"s dark caves beneath trembled and wailed.
Let then creation sing,-- Hail, sovereign priest and king!
Blest be thy holy name and holy Word!
Hail, Son of G.o.d Most High, Helper forever nigh,-- Hail, Prince of Peace and universal Lord!
The conversation, at such times, is very apt to run into story-telling, among those who have any stores of memory, or are possessed of inventive faculties, and often turns upon such inexplicable incidents as might well bewilder the imaginations of simple country folks. My uncle gave us an account of a lad not long before in his employ, who laughed at the idea of supernatural appearances, and was indeed afraid of nothing. "The young scamp," said he, "though I don"t know why I should call him so, for he was as honest as he was bold,--appeared so thoroughly fearless, that it sometimes looked like mere bravado (I am afraid he p.r.o.nounced it _brave-ardor_); and a companion who also lived with us resolved to put his courage to the test. Accordingly, at dusk one evening, when Jack was about to lead the horse to the pasture, he provided himself with a sheet, and placed himself on one end of the crossbeam which rested on the rather high posts of the gate. Jack came whistling along, leading the horse, and, opening the gate, slipping off the halter, gave the animal a slap with it; and as he shut the gate c.o.c.ked up his eye at the elevated figure. "And as for you, Mr. Devil," says he, "you may sit there just as long as you please." A decent respect for the proprieties of his position kept the scarecrow quiet until Jack was well on his way to the house which was not far distant. Pretty soon the door was burst open, and, to our alarm, some one tumbled in upon the floor in an agony of terror, as we soon discovered, pale as a ghost and scarcely able to speak. As soon as he recovered some degree of self-possession, he could barely stutter out,--"When Jack got out of sight--I turned to get down--and there sat another one, on the other post--looking just like me!"[11]
A great deal was thereupon said about the power of the imagination and the effect it was likely to have upon one who had placed himself in such an equivocal situation, and the terrors which, under its influence, might naturally revert to him, who in an excited state of his own nerves had endeavored to inflict such terrors upon another. Hereupon there was a general call upon Aunt Judith, from the youngsters present, to tell us something about reputed witches in her younger days,--a subject in regard to which she was said to be able to make some remarkable statements, though as yet we had never obtained from her any satisfactory information about it. She seemed a little reluctant to indulge our curiosity.
"As to witches," said my uncle Richard, gravely, "I don"t know. Whether the denunciations of them in Holy Writ are intended to apply to any actually supernatural power possessed by them, or only to the pretence of it,--and both are mischievous in their effect on the popular mind,--I shall not undertake to say. It is certain that the poor old women who are thus stigmatized seem to have little power to help themselves in this world, or, if real tamperers with the powers of darkness, any enjoyable expectations from the other. But this I do know, that I was riding, not many days since, with my lawyer, a man of considerable acuteness, though a little eccentric at times, coming from K--"s Island, where we had been on some business; and as we neared the turn of the causeway to the main road, he pulled up the chaise, jumped out, and placing himself on a broad flat rock by the road-side, began violently to dance up and down and to shake his clothes. "Good Heavens!" cried I, "are you mad?" "Oh, no," said he, resuming his seat, "but my mother always told me, that whenever I was coming away from K--"s Island, I must stand upon that rock and shake the witches off!""
"But your story, Aunt Judith! your story," we all cried out, and after a little more hesitation the good woman _prit la parole_, as Madame de Stael so often phrases it in "Corinne."