On their way from the temple school, Correliana invited the padre and
members of the corps to pay a twilight visit to her garden. Passing
through her father’s into her own garden, while yet the upward slant of
the sun’s rays reached above the Andean peaks, the party were surprised
and startled by the winged hoverings of a cloud of birds of every
feather, accompanied with the vocal salutation,—“Well, my goodness
gracious, if here ain’t the padre! well, I declare, aha,
aha!”—pronounced in variations of tone peculiar to the raven, starling,
and parrot. With a confused fluttering, twittering, and tonguester terms
of speech, they with encouraged familiarity, alighted wherever a perch
was offered. Correliana tried to still their clamors by calling upon the
leaders, but only effected a change, all uniting in the word “Musick!”
To stay their noisy importunities she beckoned her visitors to be
seated, and then under the escort of her feathered choristers she
brought forth an instrument of music which Captain Greenwood had
presented to her as a parting gift. On opening the case she presented
the instrument to the curators of sound, who were known to be excellent
pianists. From its resemblance to an accordion they started back with
horror, without touching it, which caused the beaming face of Correliana
to become overshadowed with disappointment. But the humorous smiles of
the others relieved her from sudden apprehension, by suggesting, as the
cause of their dismay, some foregone amusing event. In explanation, M.
Hollydorf described the mechanical affinity of the accordion with the
primitive bagpipes, which to the modern musician were a nightmare
revelation of the past ages of discord. “Except in its improved capacity
of breathing sweet harmony in the hands of an experienced musician, the
accordion has the same monotonous drone of its ancestral relative. The
source of Signor Pettynose and Herr Lindenhoff’s chagrin had its origin
on our voyage hitherward from the annoyance caused by one in the hands
of the _Tortuga’s_ cook, which they purchased and threw overboard, and
its ghostly resuscitation in your hands has given rise to their
expressions of horror. I perceive that the instrument in your hands only
bears an outward resemblance to the accordion, and the moment its tones
are revealed, I am sure my impressions will be sustained, and the
artists will be more enthusiastically retentive in its praise, than they
have been in pantomimic rejection.”
While M. Hollydorf was soothing the wounded enthusiasm of Correliana’s
affection, the instinctively sensitive curators passed the case, with
its instrument, from one to the other, with an expression, kindred in
acting translation, to the effect likely to be produced upon two
civilized or savage bachelors in the armed disposal of an infant which
had been subjected to their inspection, for commendation, by a fond
mother. Finding that their former criticisms of Heraclean music had
placed them in a dilemma that required vindication, they questioned each
other’s ability for extrication. Pettynose having used an accordion in
boyhood as a dernier Alma Mater for the nursing of his musical
faculties, offered in acknowledgment of his debt of gratitude, with
manifest reluctance, the tribute of his experience in expiation of his
long neglect and indifference to the rudimentary ties of affection. With
the first out-breathings of the foundling, as his fingers deftly
caressed with familiar touch the well known features, he became
conscious that the ties of relationship had been rendered harmonious by
a foreign marriage. Reassured by this discovery the petulant asperities
of his face vanished; then after a short wandering prelude for
thoughtful familiarization, he lapsed into a musical reverie of the
past, that gradually caused his disembodiment from the petty assumptions
of instinct, leaving his natural spirit of goodness to soar in flight
upon the wings of sympathy. In a few moments he became lost to material
impressions, other than from the imposed invocation of his fingers,
causing the colonnades and courts to become tremulous with the lulling
concord of sweet sounds. Correliana with hands reverentially folded over
her breast leaned against a vine-wreathed pillar, regarding his face and
fingers with her large luminous eyes overshadowed with a misty veil of
thoughtful inspiration, as if in search for the mazy source of the
mysterious influence that held her entranced within the spell of
inwrought concord. But the motor spirit of memory in reviving vision
bore upon its talismanic wings the artist far away from self to roam
among scenes bright with the revels of childhood in the land of his
birth, on the banks of the swift flowing Amaril, whose cascades
embowered by the tropical hill groves of Brazil had inspired with the
rippling flow of their echoes his love for music. The reveried air of
“Home, sweet home” surprised his listeners with a responsive echo, that
held them immovable in hushed silence, with a controlling power that
banished self. Even the harsh discordant screams of the parrots, calling
for the vesper notice of their mistress, were hushed, as if suddenly
made aware of their voiced defects; while birds with voices attuned to
song in cadenced time swayed silently listening upon their sprayed
perches, eying askance as if in search of the new songster from whom the
sweet notes came. As minutes unheeded winged their way into the current
of the past, and the night shades of twilight deepened, stronger grew
the charmed bondage that held Correliana and her mother dumb and
motionless, bound by the sweet chords of melodious inspiration. But
alas, as if to typify the ephemeral pleasures of sense, the spell was
rudely broken by the grosser instinctive impressions of the unfortunate
padre, who recalled the wandering spirit of Pettynose, by asking, “Can’t
you play Yankee Doodle, Jim Crow, God Save the Queen, or something we
know?”
The reader has undoubtedly felt the chill of sudden obscurity when the
mellow light of a declining summer sun had been intercepted by a thunder
gust, and the startling effect produced by the lightning’s dazzling
gleam that makes murky darkness palpable after its transient blaze. This
gleam the aroused Pettynose darted on the padre, as he thundered with
quavering voice: “You soulless son of a paddy! are you so dead to the
divine influence of harmony that you could not feel that I was moved by
an inspiration beyond the reach of the time-serving twaddle of national
humbuggery and the idol worship of sectarian selfishness?”
As the rumbling growl of the enraged musician ceased, the soft
expression of Correliana’s face was for a moment lighted with an
expression of reproach directed to the reproved and reprover. The padre,
whose lack of thoughtful impression had invoked this outburst, turned
with flushing winces from face to face, questioning the source of his
error, but only met frowns of pitying, or disdainful reproof, which
prudently inclined him to silence. Pettynose, restored to his
instinctive self, examined the instrument to discover the attachment
that had contributed by its aid for the production of sounds of such
pure accord, in freedom from the drone of its prototype. Sliding back
the key-board his vision was introduced to a novel mechanism, bearing
but a slight resemblance to that of the accordion, except in formulistic
fabrication. In the place of a reed-board of wood it had one of glass.
Covering the openings were reeds of bamboo answering to the stops of the
keys. Raising the plate he discovered on its under side longitudinal
fossæ corresponding in length and form with the string attachments of
the harp, which it represented in miniature; over this the peculiar
strings were strung. The wind in passing from the bellow’s font through
the open slots caused an æolian vibration, which was increased in volume
and sweetness of sound by the vibrating accord of the reeds. The spirits
of the two curators of sound were highly elated by the discovery of this
rare musical waif; at the same time were surprised to learn that it had
been the companion of their river voyage; but readily accounted for its
concealment with the supposition that Captain Greenwood withheld it from
the idea that it was to them an object of aversion. Pettynose, when
leaving, would, in his heedless selfishness, have taken the instrument
with him, but M. Hollydorf, anticipating Correliana’s anxiety, bade him
recollect that it was a gage of affection.
When the music ceased, a raven and parrot, who had perched upon the
padre’s broad-brimmed hat, commenced a gossiping promenade, backwards
and forwards upon the diametric extremes of its circumference,
alternating the rise and descent of its rim from his nose to the back of
his coat-collar, to his great annoyance, which added to the comical
effect. But the padre continued silent, notwithstanding the birds’
quotations of his familiar phrases, “Well, I declare! my conscience’
sake!” and the like, which seemed to be prompted by the changes wrought
in the position of his hat. At length Correliana became mindful of their
annoyance, and despatched them to their roosts; then she apologized to
the padre for the liberty she had taken, by saying, that they had
imitated her when she was repeating his phrases to familiarize her ear
with the intonations of the English language. “But I am not alone
accountable,” she said, “for that demure personage,” pointing to the
prætor, “has largely contributed by his patience and perseverance to
their proficiency. The Doschessa wishes to have me remind you that their
imitations are an apt example of ritual observances, classical
educations, and fashionable accomplishments, which are styled the
progressive features of Giga civilization.”
“It pleases me to hear you try to make the padre understand the
difference between a practical education and one of words,”
patronizingly added Dr. Baāhar.
This assumption of the doctor’s dispersed the depressing cloud that
weighed upon the padre’s spirits, who replied, “Ah doctor, you forget
that to-day you were unable to make the material distinction between an
ancient goddess of your fathers, and a Heraclean statue crowned with
Kyronese mousetraps, even with the advantage of your wordy education?”
Mr. Welson laughingly commended Correliana and the prætor for their
successful essay in the professorial art, offering to recommend their
talents to the Dominican College of Guatemala, or its Jesuitical
propagandic rival institution of Chinandagua of Nicaragua, which were
devoted to the education of parrots for the dissemination of their
tenets among the people, if disposed to enlarge their sphere of
usefulness. Declining, in the same vein, his intercession in their
behalf, the members of the corps were invited to join the family of the
prætor at the table, where they could have the advantage of seeing and
hearing the Manatitlans, as the Dosch was desirous of joining in the
conversation. The voice of Correliana aroused chirping murmurs from the
leafy coverts of tree and bush, but with such drowsy pipes of
recognition it was easy to discover that the notes were muffled in the
head’s feathery couch beneath the wings. When seated, the Dosch
addressed the padre as follows, “Your race claim that the chief object
of their lives is to obtain present and future happiness; now I would
like to ask you whether your ‘system of education,’ founded upon the
parotic rehearsal of progenitorial self-inflicted woes, has any tendency
for the fulfillment of their hopes? Then answer, with thoughtful
consideration drawn from your day’s experience, whether you have ever
approached so near the shrine of an enjoyment, so pure and
unadulterated, in joyful impression, as that of to-day?”
_Padrex._ “I declare to gracious, never!”
_Dosch._ “But would you not relapse at the sight of a priest, as the
converted Jew did at the chink of the shekels?”
_Padre._ (Scratching his head.) “Well, you know it’s a hard thing for
one to abjure his religion, altogether?”
_Dr. Baāhar._ (Testily.) “He’s doomed to blind martyrdom in defense of
his idols!”
_Padre._ “But I know those that belong to my own creed, and am not
willing to be caught with mousetraps! Besides, when we were together on
board of the _Tortuga_, after our good luck, I asked you to advise me
about the education of my children; and you replied, ‘Let them glean all
the knowledge they can from the schools of their country, until they
arrive at the age of twenty; then send them to Germany, and they will
then be able to appreciate the rudimentary principles of our
philosophical course of study, if they are well posted in physical
gymnastics and sword exercise.’ Of course the Manatitlans are well
acquainted with the gigantic self-esteem of the French ideas of
education, which is expressed in the proverb, ‘Live in Paris a year, and
then die, content.’”
_Dosch._ “The philosophical self-complacency of the Germans with regard
to the benefits of what they are pleased to style their system of
education, is dependant upon habit rather than merit, even in the scale
of civilized estimation. But when reduced from its superflage to
reality, the course of study pursued in a German university, of
sufficient celebrity to attract foreign students, commences with the
majority,—from the boasting authority of their own statements,—by a test
of the body’s capacity to hold beer, saur-kraut, and sausage, seasoned
with tobacco smoke, for the encouragement of philosophical ruminations.
When the freshman devotee’s body has become adequately distended, ethics
and the art of disputatious war are inaugurated, with the premeditated
intention of testing antagonistic skill in the gentle art of tattooing.
Although lacking in the graceful designs of the more primitive races,
the facial carvings in these friendly encounters indicate a nosological
taste for depiction, characterized with boldness of touch on the part of
the successful aspirant for honors. After having had his passions slaked
by sword indenture indemnification, for the aggravations of guttural
opprobriums, swilled at the collateral troughs of learning, the
candidate for high collegiate honors, with his initiatory degree
tattooed in autographic commendation of his skillful attainments, enters
upon his second term. This completed, his body has become seasoned to
saturation with the constituent elements of lager bier, schnapps, saur-
kraut, pickled herring, sausage, and like condimental retainers, which
are incorporated with tobacco-smoke in preparation for the study of the
Oriental languages. At the expiration of three or more years employed in
hard smoking, drinking,—or lageration, as it is classically termed,—with
concomitant study, and wrangling, he reaches the acme of Teutonic
elaboration; becoming to all intents and purposes as useless a casket of
automatical movements and articulate sounds, as the feathered
theologians educated in the Jesuit and Dominican Colleges of Chinandagua
and Guatemala. His sympathetic impressibility can be truly likened to
the saw of the surgical sawyer, in feeling for the suffering it imparts
to the integuments and bone in separation. The French proverb, which you
quoted, is certainly apt. For those who have engaged in the follies of
Paris for a year, of self accord, we have found so utterly absorbed in
the vanities of selfish gratification, that even the legendary memory of
an instinctive soul has been lost, as well as all thoughts of purity and
goodness in devisement for reciprocation. The real fact must now be
apparent to your impressions, that the generations of your race have
turned their backs to the realities of the future,—which could be
secured for those that are to succeed them,—in pursuit of the will o’
wisp phantoms of the past. To-morrow, you will be able to realize how we
preserve and improve the germs of purity and goodness for transmission,
in freedom from the frivolous vanities of sense. In parting for the
night all united in expressing their appreciation of the Dosch’s
truthful portrayal.”