RISUS SARDONICUS.
Before night--yes, even before the cannon on Schwarmer Hill had ceased to
boom, everybody in Killsbury knew of the terrible sorrow that had befallen
the Cornwallis family. Little Laurens had been brought home dead and
disfigured beyond recognition. His father and mother were wild with grief
and his sister Ruth was stricken down with brain fever. Neighbors and
townspeople came and saw and went away shocked and silent. It was plain to
be seen that it was one of those mysterious Fourth of July accidents that
will happen now and then, and few indeed were brave enough to ask just how
it happened or why such accidents should be made possible. The majority of
the people of Killsbury would as soon have thought of questioning the ways
of Providence or the rights of the whirlwind as they would of questioning
the doings of "the small boy," or denying his right to go whithersoever he
listeth on our free and glorious Independence Day.
The Reverend Dr. Normander, however, was not exactly of this stamp. He was
beginning at least, to think seriously about the matter. Passing strange
it seemed to him that the day which should be the most beautifully and
joyously free, had become the most fearful to the best and most truly
patriotic citizens of the town; and that said citizens should consent to
it and encourage it as so many did. Mr. Schwarmer, at least, encouraged it
most decidedly by distributing fireworks to the boys. He had been thinking
of speaking to him about it for some time. Whether he had given Laurens
Cornwallis the fireworks that had caused his death or not, he felt that
the time had come to utter his warning against such a practice and ask him
as a citizen of influence to make his gifts of a harmless nature. He
called on him the next morning for that purpose.
"You have heard of little Laurens Cornwallis's terrible death I suppose,
Mr. Schwarmer?"
"Yes, I heard of it last night. It was very, very sad, most assuredly it
was, Dr. Normander."
"The mystery is where he got the fireworks, Mr. Schwarmer. He went out
into the field to fly his kite. He had no fireworks and no money to buy
any. His parents do not approve of putting such dangerous things into the
hands of children. His mother thinks he must have been seized upon by
older boys and compelled to take part in, or witness their sports. However
the case may be, I have been asked so many times by friends and
acquaintances if it were true that he came up here and you gave him the
fireworks, that I felt it my duty to ask you personally."
"This is my answer for one and all, Dr. Normander. He did not come here
and I did not give him any firecrackers. You may set that down as gospel
truth, most assuredly you may."
"I am glad to hear it and be able to refute the rumor; still I feel that I
shall not have done my whole duty without telling you that I fear your
custom of distributing fireworks to the boys is having a very bad effect.
I have noticed an alarming increase of Independence Day accidents since
you inaugurated the custom. Yesterday was the worst of all. I was told
that the Public Square was a more dangerous place than if it had been
invaded by a foreign enemy--that the boys really took possession of it and
fired at everybody who attempted to enter."
Mr. Schwarmer laughed. "Well that's no fault of mine, Dr. Normander. Any
sensible man knows that there isn't enough powder in one of my little
packages to hurt any child. He couldn't more than scorch his fingers were
he to let them all off at once--rest assured he couldn't. He couldn't more
than learn 'The burnt child dreads the fire' adage, which every child has
got to learn sooner or later."
"But if a large number of boys should club together and every one had a
box, Mr. Schwarmer? What then?"
"O that would be another affair, Dr. Normander. The parents and the police
should regulate a thing of that kind--most assuredly they should--the
parents primarily."
"But parents can't always stand on guard, Mr. Schwarmer."
"I thought that was what parents were for--to guard their own children,
Dr. Normander. If I should attempt to guard other people's children I
should expect to be told that my services were not wanted, most assuredly
I should; and if I give a boy a box of firecrackers to honor his country
with, I consider it's his parents' business to see that he makes the right
use of it, just as it would be their business to see that he made the
right use of a Sunday School book that you might give him to honor his God
with! No knowing but he would take a notion to set a match to the one
thing or the other, or the whole thing, if left to himself long enough--in
which case he would be apt to burn his fingers and perhaps burn himself up
and the whole house too; but neither you nor I would be to blame, I take
it," laughed Schwarmer.
Dr. Normander was amazed at such levity and reasoning or lack of reason;
but he replied with becoming patience: "Not for what we could not foresee
or avoid, Mr. Schwarmer. Every mature individual knows that all kinds of
explosives are more or less dangerous. There is a lurking devil in them
that it will not do to play with. They should not be used unless it is
absolutely necessary and then only by experienced hands. Surely, it would
be very easy for you to withhold your gifts to the boys, or make them of a
non-explosive character. You might try it next year and note the results
in the death and accident list. I think it would not only be right for you
to do so, but the part of wisdom, as quite a number, especially those
mothers who have had their boys seriously hurt by the explosives which you
have given them, are being very much exercised about the matter."
"Bless their hearts!" exclaimed Schwarmer reddening perceptibly, "I
suppose they think I own the Fourth of July and must run it and be
responsible for everything that goes amiss. Now I suppose they'll try to
blame me for old Dan's death. You know old Captain Dan Solomon--the
expressman. He came up here yesterday and insisted on letting off the
cannon. I couldn't refuse him. It was Liberty day, you know. The day
didn't belong to _me_ any more than it did to anybody else, nor the cannon
either. I dedicated it to the town to begin with, so old Dan did as he
chose. He was careless with it at the sundown charge and it burst and
killed him. Come and see him. They have him all nicely laid out in the
coachman's apartment."
"Indeed! I had not heard of this," said Doctor Normander. He arose in
astonishment and followed Mr. Schwarmer to the stable. One look was as
much as he could endure. He turned away in silence and went wearily down
the hill. He was convinced that Schwarmer did not give little Laurens
Cornwallis the explosives that caused his death; but he was still more
thoroughly convinced that he was responsible through his influence and
example for the alarming increase of accidents in the town; but beyond all
lay the dread conviction that the evil was coexistent with our body
politic and that the parents and people in general had become so inured to
it--so dead to its enormity that it would be well nigh impossible to bring
about any essential reform.
The Saturday after the burial of Laurens Cornwallis, Dr. Normander rose
feeling quite ill, but he would not give up. He seized his hat and went
out to walk.
When he reached the first avenue he looked up and saw Father Ferrill
crossing the street at a rapid pace.
"Father! Father!" he called out involuntarily, "has anything
happened--anything more?" He held out both hands. He had never before felt
so keenly the need of a brother worker, or rather a father worker. The
aged priest came up, took his hands tenderly in his own and said:
"I have just been summoned to the bedside of the Widow Pressneau's little
boy. I fear it is a case of _Tetanus_ beyond hope, it has developed so
rapidly. On the Fourth he shot his hand with a toy pistol which was given
him to celebrate with."
"O Father! and yet another! Let me take your arm; I feel faint. The torn
face of poor old Dan Solomon and the terrible death of Laurens Cornwallis
have been too great a strain."
They walked on in silence. As they neared the widow's house, Father
Ferrill said:
"If you have never witnessed a case of _Tetanus_ I advise you not to go
in, my son."
"I never have, but I think I ought to know what is going on about me,
Father, and perhaps I can help. I feel better now. I will hunt up Doctor
Muelenberg if he is not already there. He has had a large experience in
such cases."
"That is very kind, my son; but I hardly think his services will be of any
use. When the case develops so rapidly there is little chance of recovery.
Besides, I know how to apply the usual remedies. Our people are so poor as
a class that it is necessary we should be physicians to the body as well
as the soul."
"Still, I would go with you, Father. I must learn the needed lesson. This
terrible thing is closing in upon us more and more. Why is it, Father?"
"War! War! primarily my son. This vile disease used to be the aftermath of
battlefields in the old countries. Here it is the Independence Day
disease; but the brute-elements are being let loose all over the world.
They are growing too strong for us and we cannot hold them in leash,"
whispered Father Ferrill as he opened the Widow Pressneau's door
noiselessly, pushed Dr. Normander in before him and shut it quickly. His
next movement was to pull down the shades through which the hot July sun
was streaming. The dexterity with which he performed the three essentials
for the comfort of the patient afflicted with this fell disease was
admirable, although it was of no use for the moment as the boy was in the
throes of that species of mortal agony, before which the curtain is drawn
all too often for the enlightenment of suffering humanity.
"Father! Father! what have I done that my child should be so tormented?"
cried the mother as she sank down by the bedside with broken sobs and
words of supplication.
The priest took her place and waited with crossed hands through convulsion
after convulsion, each of which was more terrible than the former one
until nothing worse could be imagined. The muscles were strained to their
utmost tensity. The body was bent like a bow but the most unbearable of
all was the drawn face and the awful semblance of laughter that has been
fitly called _risus sardonicus_. Dr. Normander closed his eyes and the
mother cried out again in direst agony:
"Father! Father! what have I done that the evil spirits should take
possession of my child?"
"Poor mother, thou hast been more sinned against than sinning I perceive;
but hasten now and get hot cloths ready for the next attack; for there
will doubtless be another and another, although his face shows signs of
relaxing and he may be able to speak to thee and answer thy questionings."
The mother went out and the boy lay as still as a stone under the Priest's
treatment for a few moments. Then he gave a great gasp and cried:
"Mother! Mother! Forgive me before I go. I minded the rich man. I should
have minded thee. The rich man said the little play-pistol would not hurt
me. It did hurt me, mother. It was a foul fiend." He took the cross in his
little wounded hand and clasped it like a vise against his heart and even
into the tender flesh until it left its mark there. His lips twitched and
quivered as though they were being drawn again into the awful laugh.
"_Risus sardonicus_," cried the priest, "Jesus have mercy!"
"Jesus have mercy!" cried the mother.
"Jesus have mercy!" whispered Dr. Normander.
"Jesus have mercy!" cried the boy in a note of triumph. The strained lips
relaxed and parted with a heavenly smile and the widow's child had gone to
meet the widow's God.