Life and Adventures of Maj. Roger Sherman Potter.
by Francis Colburn Adams.
AUTHOR"S PREFACE.
IF the reader will but pay attention to what I have written in this great work, it will be found that I have taken an unwarrantable liberty with his good taste; that is to say, I have so far deviated from that stereotyped rule-so strictly observed by all our great authors-as to make my hero, who is what is curiously enough called a "Yankee Character," speak tolerably good English, instead of vulgar slang. In truth, so closely do "our great writers" adhere to this rule of depicting the eccentric American as a lean, scraggy individual, dressed most outlandishly, making splinters of the king"s English, while drawling it with offensive nasal sounds, and violating the rules of common politeness in whatever he does, that when he goes abroad the foreigner is surprised to find him a tolerably well polished gentleman, and indeed not unfrequently inquires what part of our country those lean persons he has seen described in the books of American authors reside in.
Let this preface then suffice, for if any one of my many readers think he can write a better--and I doubt not he can-let him set about it, and not stop until he get it exactly to his fancy. But before he say one word against aught that is herein written, let him bear in mind that I am the author of not less than a stack of great histories, which have already so multiplied my literary fame, that the mere announcement of another book by me sends that only great and generous critic, the public at large, into a perfect fever of anxiety.
PHELEG VAN TRUSEDALE.
New York, Nov., 1857.
THE ADVENTURES OF MAJOR ROGER SHERMAN POTTER.
CHAPTER I.
WHICH TREATS OF THINGS NOT PARTICULARLY INTERESTING, AND MIGHT HAVE BEEN OMITTED WITHOUT PREJUDICE TO THIS HISTORY.
CAPE COD, you must know, gentle reader, is my bleak native home, and the birth-place of all the most celebrated critics. The latter fact is not generally known, and for the reason that the gentry composing that fraternity acknowledge her only with an excess of reluctance.
Her poets and historians never mention her in their famous works; her blushing maidens never sing to her, and her novelists lay the scenes of their romances in other lands. One solitary poet was caught and punished for singing a song to her sands; but of her codfish no historian has written, though divers malicious writers have declared them the medium upon which one of our aristocracies is founded. But I love her none the less for this.
It was a charming evening in early June. I am not disposed to state the year, since it is come fashionable to count only days. With my head supported in my left hand, and my elbow resting on my knee, I sat down upon the beach to listen to the music of the tide. Curious thoughts crowded upon my mind, and my fancy soared away into another world. The sea was bright, the breeze came soft and balmy over the land, and whispered and laughed. My bosom heaved with melting emotions; and had I been skilled in the art of love, the mood I was in qualified me for making it. The sun in the west was sinking slowly, the horizon was hung with a rich canopy of crimson clouds, and misty shadows played over the broad sea-plain, to the east. Then the arcades overhead filled with curtains of amber and gold; and the sight moved me to meditation. My soul seemed drinking in the beauties nature was strewing at the feet of her humblest, and, perhaps, most unthankful creatures. Then the scene began to change; and such was its gently-stealing pace that I became moved by emotions my tongue had no power to describe. The more I thought the more I wondered. And I sat wondering until Dame Night drew her dusky curtains, and the balconies of heaven filled with fleecy clouds, and ten thousand stars, like liquid pearls, began to pour their soft light over the land and sea. Then the "milky way" came out, as if to take the moon"s watch, and danced along the serene sky, like a coquette in her gayest attire.
How I longed for a blushing maiden to tune her harp, or chant her song, just then! Though I am the son of a fisherman, I confess I thought I heard one tripping lightly behind me, her face all warm with smiles. It was but a fancy, and I sighed while asking myself what had induced it. Not a brook murmured; no willows distilled their night dews; birds did not make the air melodious with their songs; and there were no magnolia trees to shake from their locks those showers of liquid pearls which so bedew the books of our lady novelists. True, the sea became as a mirror, reflecting argosies of magic sails, and the star-lights tripped, and danced, and waltzed over the gently undulating swells. A moment more and I heard the tide rips sing, and the ground swell murmur, as it had done in my childhood, when I had listened and wondered what it meant. The sea gull, too, was nestling upon the bald sands, where he had sought rest for the night, and there echoed along through the air so sweetly, the music of a fisherman"s song; and the mimic surf danced and gamboled along the beach, spreading it with a chain of phosphorous light, over which the lanterns mounted on two stately towers close by threw a great glare of light: and this completed the picture.
While contemplating the beauties before me, I was suddenly seized with a longing for fame. It was true I had little merit of my own, but as it had become fashionable at this day for men without merit to become famous, the chance for me, I thought, was favorable indeed. I contemplated my journey in quest of fame, and resolved never to falter. "Fame," I mused, "what quality of metal art thou made of, that millions bow down and worship thee?" And all nature, through her beauties, seemed returning an answer, and I arose from my reverie, and wended my way toward the cabin of my aged parents. A bright light streamed from one of the windows, serving as my beacon.
I had not gone far before Fame, I thought, replied for herself, and said: "Know, son of a fisherman, that I am a capricious G.o.ddess; at least, I am so called by the critics. And they, being adepts in deep knowledge, render verdicts the world must not dispute. I have the world for my court: my shrine is everywhere, and millions worship at it. Genius, learning, and valor, are my handmaids. I have great and good men for my va.s.sals; and upon them it affords me comfort to bestow my gifts. I seek out the wise and the virtuous, and place garlands of immortality upon their heads; I toy with my victims, and then hurl them into merited obscurity. Little men most beset me, most hang about my garments, and sigh most for my smiles. The rich man would have me build monuments to his memory; the ambitious poor man repines when I forget him. Novel-writing damsels, their eyes bedimmed with bodkin shaped tears, and their fingers steeled with envious pens it seems their love to dip in gall, cast longing looks at me. Peter Parley, and other poets, have laid their offerings low at my feet. I have crowned kings and emperors; and I have cast a favor to a fool. With queens and princes have I coquetted, and laughed when they were laid in common dust. I have dragged the humble from his obscurity, and sent him forth to overthrow kingdoms and guard the destinies of peoples. Millions have gone in search of me; few have found me. Great men are content with small favors; small men would, being the more ambitious of the two, take me all to themselves. Millions have aspired to my hand; few have been found worthy of it. Editors, critics, chambermaids and priests, (without whom we would have no great wars,) annoy me much. I am generous enough to forgive them, to charge their evil designs to want of discretion, to think the world would scarce miss them, and certainly could get along well enough without them.
"In my halcyon days there appeared before me one "neas, who was great of piety, which he laid at my feet, soliciting only a smile.
After him came Hector, whom I condoled for his misfortunes. Upon the head of Achilles, who sought the smallest favor, I placed a garland.
Eurylas, a man of large friendship; and Alexander, who was known among the nations for his liberality; and C"sar, who had some valor; and Trajan, whose probity no one doubted; and Topirus, a man of great fidelity; and Cato, of whom it was said that he had some wisdom-these came, and in humility bowed before me and accepted my offering. For the delight and instruction of future generations, I have had their names written on the pages of history, which is the world"s gift. And this was an age of the past.
"Then the age of modern poetry and oratory came in with one Shakspeare, and a friend of his of the name of Bacon. And it went out with Sheridan, and one Pitt, and a queer man of the name of Byron, whose name I have written in letters of gold, and have placed where envious bishops cannot take it down, though they build ladders of lawn. I will watch over it, and it shall be bright when kings and bishops are forgotten.
"Then there came the age of Washington; which was a new age, in a new world, with new glories and new men, whose names I have enshrined for the study of the young, the old, the great, and the good. On Jefferson"s brow I laid a laurel that shall be green in all coming time; and the memories of Webster, Clay, and Calhoun shall long wear my mantle, for they won it worthily.
"Latterly, I have been much annoyed by one Benton, who, being a man of much light and shade, climbs my ladder only to break it down, and is for ever mounting dragons he cannot ride. If I shake him from my skirts to-day, he will to-morrow meet me upon the highway, and charge me with ingrat.i.tude. Dancing-girls and politicians beset me on all sides, reminding me that, without them, the world would go to ruin. Political parsons and milliners daily make war upon me. And singing women, and critics who herald their virtues for pennies, threaten to plunder me of my glories. And, though I am not a vain dame, many of these think me as cheaply bought as their own praise.
"I would not have you mourn over the age of poetry and oratory, for that also is of the past. You must not forget that it is become fashionable for men to give themselves to the getting of gold, which they pursue with an avidity I fear will end in the devil getting all their souls. You, son of a fisherman, shall be the object of my solicitude. Go out upon the world; be just to all, nor withhold your generosity from those who are worthy of it. Be sure, too, that you make the objects of your pursuit in all cases square with justice.
Let your purposes be unvarying, nor be presumptuous to your equals.
Beware lest you fall into the company of boisterous talking and strong drinking men, such as aspire to the control of the nation at this day; and, though they may not have been many months in the country, kindly condescend to teach us how to live. Also let those who most busy themselves with making presidents for us keep other company than yours, for their trade is a snare many a good man has been caught in to his sorrow."
And Fame, I thought, continued discoursing to me in this manner until I reached the cabin of my father, when she bid me good night and departed. I entered the cabin and found my father, who was bent with age, sitting by the great fire-place, mending his nets. My mother was at her wheel, spinning flax. She was a tidy little body, of the old school. Her notions of the world in general were somewhat narrow and antiquated; while the steeple-crown cap she wore on her head so jauntily, and her ap.r.o.n of snow-white muslin, that hung so neatly over a black silk dress, and was secured about the neck with a small, crimped collar, gave her an air of cheerfulness the sweet- ness of her oval face did much to enhance. My father, whose face and hands were browned with the suns of some sixty summers, had a touch of the patriarch about him. He often declared the world outside of Cape Cod so wicked as not to be worth living in. He was short of figure, had flowing white hair, a deeply-wrinkled brow, and corrugated lips, and blue eyes, over-arched with long, brown eyelashes. My mother ran to me, and my father grasped me firmly by the hand, for he was not a little concerned about my stay on the beach. Indeed, I may as well confess, that he regarded me as a wayward youth, over whom it was just as well to exercise a guardian hand. In his younger days he had been what was called extremely good looking, a quality he frequently told me I had inherited, and from which he feared I might suffer grievous harm, unless I exercised great caution when divers damsels he had a jealous eye upon approached me. My mother was less jealous of my exploits among the s.e.x, which she rather encouraged.
Another cause of anxiety with my father was the fact that I had written a "Life and Times" of Captain Seth Brewster; which work, though the hero was a fisherman, reached a sale of forty thousand copies, put money in my pocket, and made me the pet of all the petticoats round about. It was not unnatural, then, that my father, with his peculiar turn of mind, should set me down as being partially insane. I had also manufactured several very highly-colored verses in praise of Cape Cod; and these my publisher, who was by no means a tricky man, said had made a great stir in the literary world. And his a.s.sertion I found confirmed by the critics, who, with one accord, and without being paid, declared these verses proof that the author possessed "a rare inventive genius." The meaning of this was all Hebrew to me. My mother suggested that it might be a figure of speech copied from Chaldean mythology.
Another cause of alarm for my morals, in the eyes of my father, was the fact of my having made two political speeches. And these, according to divers New York politicians, had secured Cape Cod to General Pierce. And, as a reward for this great service, and to the end of ill.u.s.trating in some substantial manner (so it is written at this day) their appreciation of a politician so distinguished, I was waited upon by a delegation of the before-named politicians, (two of whom came slightly intoxicated,) who had come, as they said, to tender to me an invitation to visit New York. A public reception by the Mayor and Council; a grand banquet at Tammany Hall; the honor of being made one of its Sachems; free apartments and two charming serenades at the New York Hotel; and divers suppers at very respectable houses, were temptingly suggested as an inducement for me to come out and take a prominent position. Indeed, such were the representations of this distinguished delegation, that I began to think the people of New York singularly rich and liberal, seeing that they trusted their surplus money in the hands of persons who were so loose of morals that they could find no other method of spending it than suppering and serenading men of my obscure stamp.
But if my father was alarmed lest my morals should suffer by these temptations, my mother would have answered to heaven for my virtue, though a dozen damsels were setting snares for me. And this will be shown in the next chapter.
CHAPTER II.
WHICH TREATS OF HOW I LEFT MY NATIVE CAPE, AND SUNDRY OTHER MATTERS.
I HAD no sooner disclosed to my father my musings with Fame, and the aspirations she had excited in me, than he went right into a pa.s.sion, and set me down as extravagant and mad. He had entertained hopes of making me a schoolmaster, perhaps an inspector of fish, in which office excellent opportunities for increasing one"s fortunes were offered; but I had been rendered quite useless to the parish ever since the New York politicians had taken me into their favor.
Anybody, he said, might go out upon and know the world, but few had the courage and daring to grapple with its difficulties. And then, the world was so wicked that men of reflection instinctively shrank from it. Notwithstanding my wild, visionary plans, he yet had hopes of me. But if I sought distinction in the political world, it would be well not to forget that it had at this day become a dangerous quicksand, over which a series of violent storms continually heaved.
And these storms, by some mysterious process or other, were incessantly casting up on the sh.o.r.e of political popularity and making heroes of men whose virtues were not weighty enough to keep them at the bottom. "Be an humble citizen, my son," said he: "learn to value a quiet life. You are not given to loud and boisterous talking, to lying, or to slandering; which things, at this day, are essential to political success. Worthy and well disposed persons are too much afraid of being drowned in the violence of the storm politicians with shallow brains and empty pockets create, by their anxiety to take the affairs of the nation into their own keeping.
Remember, too, that if you fail in the object of your ambition (and you are not vagabond enough to succeed), the remotest desert will not hide you from the evil designs of your enemies. You may seek some crystal stream; you may let your tears flow with its waters; but such will not lighten your disappointment, for the persecuted heart is no peace-offering to the political victor. Politically vanquished; and you are like an unhappy lover who seeks him a rural deity and sings his complaints to the winds. Your eye will become jealous at the fortunes of others, but your sighs over the cruelty of what you are pleased to call human imperfections will not bring back your own. Stay quietly at home, my son, and if you cannot be a schoolmaster, chance may one day turn you up President of these United States. Let your insanity for writing books not beguile you into crime; and above all, I would enjoin you, my son, never to write the "Life and Character" of an in-going President, for then, to follow the fashion of the day, and make for him a life that would apply with equal truth to King Mancho, or any one of his sable subjects, will be necessary that you write him down the hero of adventures he never dreamed of, and leave out the score of delinquincies his real life is blemished with. If you do this, wise men will set you down a scribbler for charity"s sake."
Thus spoke my venerable father. But I remembered that he had several times before said that if I would so square my morals as to become in favor with the matronly portion of the parish he would even try and make a parson of me, which was, in his opinion, a promotion still higher than schoolmaster. Having got a parish, and chosen the richest damsel of the flock for my wife, there was nothing to hinder me from snapping my fingers at the world and its persecutions.
My father, I would here observe, in justice to his memory, was much given to the study of religion, and would not unfrequently invite to his house the parson of a neighboring village, that he might debate with him on matters appertaining to the creed, which he had been thirty years narrowing down to the finest point. And yet he always kept a vigilant eye to his worldly affairs, nor ever let a man get the better of him in a bargain. Indeed it was said of him that though he had not been to sea for many a day he so linked himself to the fortunes of his neighbors as to secure a large share of the bounty so generously paid by our government. That there was nothing in this inconsistent with his love of true religion my father was a.s.sured by the parson, who held that worldly possessions in no wise blunted the appet.i.te for redemption; and that even bill-discounting quakers, with their bags of gold on their backs, would not find the gates of heaven shut to them. And as the parson was a man of great learning, though small of figure, and very curatical in his features and dress, his opinions were in high favor with the villagers, among whom he had given it out that he was a graduate of Yale and Harvard, both of which celebrated inst.i.tutions had conferred high honors upon him. This high throwing of the parson"s la.s.so getting abroad atoned for innumerable antiquated and very dull sermons, for the delivery of which he would excuse himself to his private friends by saying that his salary was but four hundred dollars a year, one third of which he took in No. 2 mackerel no one would buy of him. He was excessively fussy; and if he advocated temperance to-day, he would to-morrow take a sly smash, never forgetting to add that it was recommended by his physician, who was likewise a man of great learning. Under the influence of this medicine, it was said, by malicious people, which no parish is with--out, that if the occasion demanded a serious sermon he was sure to preach one that would send all the young folks of his congregation into a t.i.tter. If the occasion was such as to tolerate a little humor, he was sure to send them all into a melancholy mood with the gravity of his remarks. In fine, he was sure to be on the opposite side of everything natural.
The only question he was not quite sure it would do to get upon, was the slavery question. And for this he always excused himself by saying that there were many others in the same condition. It would not do to be in the desert, hence he inclined to the policy of our fashionable clergy, who are extremely cautious not to steer too close to questions not popular enough to be profitably espoused. If Parson Stebbins (for such was his name) let drop a few words in favor of freedom to-day, Obadiah Morgan, the most influential member of his church, would to-morrow politely withdraw. A word or two complimentary of the South and her peculiar inst.i.tutions was equally sure to find him taken to task by the philanthropic females of his parish. In truth, he could approach neither side of the question without finding a fire in his rear. And as his empty pocket would not allow him to rise to independence, he resolved to preach to that portion of his church which was content to let the slavery question take care of itself.
The parson joined my father in his endeavors to shake the resolution I had taken, and said many things concerning the snares set by the wicked world, and how easy it was for an ardent youth like myself to fall into them, that grievously annoyed my mother; for, as I have said before, she had great faith in my virtue, and so doted on me that she had a ready excuse for all my follies. Indeed, she would often smile at the combined alarm of my father and the parson, saying she held it infinitely better that a youth like myself go out upon the world in search of distinction, for therein lay the virtue of his example. Children were born to the world; if they had daring enough to go out upon it and battle with it, the parson"s advice to stay at home was unnecessary. You could not make human things divine; and, to expect miracles from saints now-a-days, or truth from critics, or liberality from parsons, was like looking for reason in our "current literature."
When my father found that I was, in spite of the admonitions of the parson, resolved on setting out, and that he was confronted by the strong opposition of my mother, he gave up in despair, telling me whatever befell me, not to look to him for succor. My mother, on the other hand, gave herself up to my preparation for the journey with so much ardor, that she for several days almost wholly neglected the regulation of her domestic affairs. My precious new suit of black, in which I had adorned myself on Sundays, and, not a little vain of my appearance, shone out at church, was got out and brushed, and then nicely packed away in my valise, which likewise contained an ample supply of unmentionables, and homemade shirts, and stockings, and other articles appertaining to the wardrobe of an adventurous young man. My mother also exercised a wise discretion in the selection of such books as she thought would afford me "maxims of guidance," as she called it, through the world. A pocket Bible, and a small volume of the "Select Edition of Franklin"s Maxims," a book in high favor with the good people of the Cape, were got of a bookseller in Barnstable, a queer wag, who had got rich by vending a strange quality of literature and taking fish in exchange. In addition to these good books provided by my mother, I was careful not to forget my "Polite Speech Maker," a book which I confess to have studied much. In truth, like many distinguished members of Congress, I am indebted to it for my great political popularity.
Resolved as I am that this history shall never swerve from the truth, I would sincerely recommend a study of the "Polite Speech Maker" to all juvenile politicians, dealers in liquor, editors of three-cent newspapers, and learned litterateurs, whose names, according to sundry malicious writers, it is come the fashion of the day to reflect in one mirror.
In the "Polite Speech Maker" will be found such sentences as "the tranquilized glory of our glorious country," and "the undying beauties, that starry emblem, our flag, awakens in our heart of hearts;" and sundry others, equally abstruse, but no less essential to the objects of primary meetings. The author of this invaluable work is my learned friend and very erudite scholar, Dr. Easley. And as some readers hold the study of an author of much more importance than his book, I may be excused for saying here that no one can take up one and forget the other, since literature, as is there set forth, was never before either blessed or enc.u.mbered with so great a doctor.
My library and outfit being complete, my mother, having provided me with a yellow waistcoat and white plush hat out of her private purse, gave an evening party in honor of my departure. Parson Stebbins, the doctor of a neighboring village, (not Easley, for he had set up his fortunes in New York,) and sundry bright-eyed damsels of my acquaintance, were invited, and came accompanied by their st.u.r.dy parents. The last jar of jam and applesauce was stormed, the two fattest pullets in the yard brought to the block, choice mince and pumpkin pies were propounded, three dollars were expended upon a citron cake such as Cape Cod had never seen before, and no less than a dozen bottles of Captain Zeke Brewster"s double refined cider was got of Major Cook, the grocer. Stronger beverages were held in questionable respect by the Cape folks. My mother did, indeed, busy herself for nearly two days in the preparation of this supper, declaring at the same time that she would not be outdone by any housewife this side of Barnstable at least. Nor did she heed my father, who continued the while muttering his misgivings.
The stars shone out bright on the night of the party, which pa.s.sed off to the delight of every one present. The fowls, and the pies, and the jam and apple-sauce, and a dish of tea the parson declared could not be excelled, were all discussed with great cheerfulness.
My father, as was his custom, drew his chair aside after supper, and engaged two of his guests in religious conversation, while the doctor and the parson got into a corner, and soon became deeply absorbed in a question of law, which they debated over the cider.
No sooner had my mother set her table to rights than she, with an air of motherly watchfulness, drew her chair beside the damsels, with whom I was exchanging the gossip of the Cape, and entered cheerfully into our conversation.
More than one of the bright eyed and ruddy cheeked damsels gave out hints that led me to believe they would have accompanied me on my journey and shared the fortunes of my career. Nor did their hints disturb my mother, whose mind was too pure to conceive their attentions aught else than blessings. And thus, with an abundance of good cheer, and the interchange of those civilities so common to villagers, and the singing of an orthodox hymn or two, in which my father joined, while the doctor and the parson continued their discussion over the cider, pa.s.sed one of those rustic evening parties so characteristic of Cape Cod.
Half-past nine o"clock arrived, and it being an hour of bedtime religiously kept by the villagers, the bright eyed damsels and their chaperons, each in turn, shook me warmly by the hand, congratulated my mother on having a son so daring, lisped words of encouragement in my ear, and took an affectionate leave. Among them there was one Altona Marabel, the daughter of a worthy fisherman. This damsel had a face of exquisite beauty; and her great l.u.s.trous eyes and blushing cheeks had caused me many a sigh. And now I saw that her heart beat in unison with mine, for the words good-by hung reluctant upon her lips. Nay, more, she would have sealed the love she bore me with a tear, for as she shook my hand it came like a pearl in her eye, and she wiped it away lest it write the tale of her heart upon the crimson of her cheek.
Neither the doctor nor the parson were disturbed at the departure of the rest of the company; for they continued to praise the quality of the cider and debate the question of law until my father went into a deep sleep, from which he was disturbed by the parson, who, in response to an invitation from the doctor, commenced singing a song for the entertainment of my mother. Such joviality was uncommon with the parson, and so surprised and astonished my father, that he intimated to the doctor that it would not be amiss to get him home.
Being something of a wag, the doctor intended to vanquish the parson with the cider, and then perform certain mischievous tricks with his features. But this my father, who was not given to sporting with the weaknesses of others, prevented, by ordering my mother to lock up the six remaining bottles. "We might debate the question until daylight, but I could not convince you," spake the parson, rising from his chair on finding the bottles empty, and rather fussily adjusting his spectacles, "it is not expected that law is a part of your profession."