PART III.

WHEREIN IT IS SHOWN THAT THE MOST ARDENT SPIRITS

ARE MORE ORNAMENTAL THAN USEFUL.

Many a speculating wight

Came by express-trains, day and night,

To see if Knott would "sell his right,"

Meaning to make the ghosts a sight--

What they call a "meenaygerie;"

One threatened, if he would not "trade,"

His run of custom to invade,

(He could not these sharp folks persuade

That he was not, in some way, paid,)

And stamp him as a plagiary,

By coming down at one fell swoop,

With |THE| ORIGINAL |KNOCKING TROUPE|,

Come recently from Hades,

Who (for a quarter-dollar heard)

Would ne'er rap out a hasty word

Whence any blame might be incurred

From the most fastidious ladies;

The late lamented Jesse Soule

To stir the ghosts up with a pole

And be director of the whole,

Who was engaged the rather

For the rare merits he'd combine,

Having been in the spirit line,

Which trade he only did resign,

With general applause, to shine,

Awful in mail of cotton fine,

As ghost of Hamlet's father!

Another a fair plan reveals

Never yet hit on, which, he feels,

To Knott's religious sense appeals--

"We'll have your house set up on wheels,

A speculation pious;

For music, we can shortly find

A barrel-organ that will grind

Psalm-tunes--an instrument designed

For the New England tour--refined

From secular drosses, and inclined

To an unworldly turn, (combined

With no sectarian bias;)

Then, travelling by stages slow,

Under the style of Knott & Co.,

I would accompany the show

As moral lecturer, the foe

Of nationalism; you could throw

The rappings in, and make them go

Strict Puritan principles, you know,

(How _do_ you make 'em? with your toe?)

And the receipts which thence might flow,

We could divide between us;

Still more attractions to combine,

Beside these services of mine,

I will throw in a very fine

(It would do nicely for a sign)

Original Titian's Venus."

Another offered handsome fees

If Knott would get Demosthenes,

(Nay, his mere knuckles, for more ease,)

To rap a few short sentences;

Or if, for want of proper keys,

His Greek might make confusion,

Then just to get a rap from Burke,

To recommend a little work

On Public Elocution.

Meanwhile, the spirits made replies

To all the reverent _whats_ and _whys_

Resolving doubts of every size,

And giving seekers grave and wise,

Who came to know their destinies,

A rap-turous reception;

When unbelievers void of grace

Came to investigate the place,

(Creatures of Sadducistic race,

With grovelling intellects and base),

They could not find the slightest trace

To indicate deception;

Indeed, it is declared by some

That spirits (of this sort) are glum,

Almost, or wholly, deaf and dumb,

And (out of self-respect) quite mum

To sceptic natures cold and numb,

Who of _this_ kind of Kingdom Come

Have not a just conception;

True, there were people who demurred

That, though the raps no doubt were heard

Both under them and o'er them,

Yet, somehow, when a search they made,

They found Miss Jenny sore afraid,

Or Jenny's lover, Doctor Slade,

Equally awe-struck and dismayed,

Or Deborah, the chamber-maid,

Whose terrors, not to be gainsaid,

In laughs hysteric were displayed,

Was always there before them;

This had its due effect with some

Who straight departed, muttering, Hum!

Transparent hoax! and Gammon!

But these were few: believing souls

Came, day by day, in larger shoals,

As the ancients to the windy holes

'Neath Delphi's tripod brought their doles,

Or to the shrine of Ammon.

The spirits seemed exceeding tame,

Call whom you fancied, and he came;

The shades august of eldest fame

You summoned with an awful ease;

As grosser spirits gurgled out

From chair and table with a spout,

In Auerbach's cellar once, to flout

The senses of the rabble rout,

Where'er the gimlet twirled about

Of cunning Mephistophiles--

So did these spirits seem in store,

Behind the wainscot or the door,

Ready to thrill the being's core

Of every enterprising bore

With their astounding glamour;

Whatever ghost one wished to hear,

By strange coincidence, was near

To make the past or future clear,

(Sometimes in shocking grammar,)

By raps and taps, now there, now here--

It seemed as if the spirit queer

Of some departed auctioneer

Were doomed to practise by the year

With the spirit of his hammer;

Whate'er you asked was answered, yet

One could not very deeply get

Into the obliging spirits' debt,

Because they used the alphabet

In all communications,

And new revealings (though sublime)

Rapped out, one letter at a time,

With boggles, hesitations,

Stoppings, beginnings o'er again,

And getting matters into train,

Could hardly overload the brain

With too excessive rations,

Since just to ask _if two and two_

_Really make four?_ or, _How d' ye do?_

And get the fit replies thereto

In the tramundane rat-tat-too,

Might ask a whole day's patience.

'Twas strange ('mongst other things) to find

In what odd sets the ghosts combined,

Happy forthwith to thump any

Piece of intelligence inspired,

The truth whereof had been inquired

By some one of the company;

For instance, Fielding, Mirabeau,

Orator Henley, Cicero,

Paley, John Zisca, Marivaux,

Melancthon, Robertson, Junot,

Scaliger, Chesterfield, Rousseau,

Hakluyt, Boccaccio, South, De Foe,

Diaz, Josephus, Richard Roe,

Odin, Arminius, Charles _le gros_,

Tiresias, the late James Crow,

Casabianca, Grose, Prideaux,

Old Grimes, Young Norval, Swift, Brissot,

Maimonides, the Chevalier D'O,

Socrates, Fénelon, Job, Stow,

The inventor of _Elixir pro_,

Euripides, Spinoza, Poe,

Confucius, Hiram Smith, and Fo,

Came (as it seemed, somewhat _de trop_)

With a disembodied Esquimaux,

To say that it was so and so,

With Franklin's expedition;

One testified to ice and snow,

One that the mercury was low,

One that his progress was quite slow,

One that he much desired to go,

One that the cook had frozen his toe,

(Dissented from by Dandolo,

Wordsworth, Cynaegirus, Boileau,

La Hontan, and Sir Thomas Roe,)

One saw twelve white bears in a row,

One saw eleven and a crow,

With other things we could not know

(Of great statistic value, though)

By our mere mortal vision.

Sometimes the spirits made mistakes,

And seemed to play at ducks and drakes

With bold inquiry's heaviest stakes

In science or in mystery;

They knew so little (and that wrong)

Yet rapped it out so bold and strong,

One would have said the entire throng

Had been Professors of History;

What made it odder was, that those

Who, you would naturally suppose,

Could solve a question, if they chose,

As easily as count their toes,

Were just the ones that blundered;

One day, Ulysses, happening down,

A reader of Sir Thomas Browne

And who (with him) had wondered

What song it was the Sirens sang,

Asked the shrewd Ithacan--_bang! bang!_

With this response the chamber rang,

"I guess it was Old Hundred."

And Franklin, being asked to name

The reason why the lightning came,

Replied, "Because it thundered."

On one sole point the ghosts agreed,

One fearful point, than which, indeed,

Nothing could seem absurder;

Poor Colonel Jones they all abused,

And finally downright accused

The poor old man of murder;

'Twas thus; by dreadful raps was shown.

Some spirit's longing to make known

A bloody fact, which he alone

Was privy to, (such ghosts more prone

In Earth's affairs to meddle are;)

_Who are you?_ with awe-stricken looks,

All ask: his airy knuckles he crooks,

And raps, "I _was_ Eliab Snooks,

That used to be a peddler;

Some on ye still are on my books!"

Whereat, to inconspicuous nooks,

(More fearing this than common spooks,)

Shrank each indebted meddler;

Further the vengeful ghost declared

That while his earthly life was spared,

About the country he had fared,

A duly licensed follower

Of that much-wandering trade that wins

Slow profit from the sale of tins

And various kinds of hollow-ware;

That Colonel Jones enticed him in,

Pretending that he wanted tin,

There slew him with a rolling-pin,

Hid him in a potatoe-bin,

And (the same night) him ferried

Across Great Pond to t' other shore,

And there, on land of Widow Moore,

Just where you turn to Larkin's store,

Under a rock him buried;

Some friends (who happened, to be by)

He called upon to testify

That what he said was not a lie,

And that he did not stir this

Foul matter, out of any spite

But from a simple love of right;--

Which statements the Nine Worthies,

Rabbi Akiba, Charlemagne,

Seth, Colley Cibber, General Wayne,

Cambyses, Tasso, Tubal-Cain,

The owner of a castle in Spain,

Jehanghire, and the Widow of Nain,

(The friends aforesaid) made more plain

And by loud raps attested;

To the same purport testified

Plato, John Wilkes, and Colonel Pride

Who knew said Snooks before he died,

Had in his wares invested,

Thought him entitled to belief

And freely could concur, in brief,

In everything the rest did.

Eliab this occasion seized,

(Distinctly here the spirit sneezed,)

To say that he should ne'er be eased

Till Jenny married whom she pleased,

Free from all checks and urgin's,

(This spirit dropt his final g's)

And that, unless Knott quickly sees

This done, the spirits to appease,

They would come back his life to tease,

As thick as mites in ancient cheese,

And let his house on an endless lease

To the ghosts (terrific rappers these

And veritable Eumenides)

Of the Eleven Thousand Virgins!

Knott was perplexed and shook his head.

He did not wish his child to wed

With a suspected murderer,

(For, true or false, the rumor spread)

But as for this roiled life he led,

"It would not answer," so he said,

"To have it go no furderer."

At last, scarce knowing what it meant,

Reluctantly he gave consent

That Jenny, since 'twas evident

That she _would_ follow her own bent,

Should make her own election.

For that appeared the only way

These frightful noises to allay

Which had already turned him gray

And plunged him in dejection.

Accordingly, this artless maid

Her father's ordinance obeyed,

And, all in whitest crape arrayed,

(Miss Pulsifer the dresses made

And wishes here the fact displayed

That she still carries on the trade,

The third door south from Bagg's Arcade,)

A very faint "I do" essayed

And gave her hand to Hiram Slade,

From which time forth, the ghosts were laid,

And ne'er gave trouble after;

But the Selectmen, be it known,

Dug underneath the aforesaid stone,

Where the poor peddler's corpse was thrown,

And found thereunder a jaw-bone,

Though, when the crowner sat thereon,

He nothing hatched, except alone

Successive broods of laughter;

It was a frail and dingy thing,

In which a grinder or two did cling,

In color like molasses,

Which surgeons, called from far and wide,

Upon the horror to decide,

Having put on their glasses,

Reported thus--"To judge by looks,

These bones, by some queer hooks or crooks,

_May_ have belonged to Mr. Snooks,

But, as men deepest-read in books

Are perfectly aware, bones,

If buried, fifty years or so,

Lose their identity and grow

From human bones to bare bones."

Still, if to Jaalam you go down,

You'll find two parties in the town,

One headed by Benaiah Brown,

And one by Perez Tinkham;

The first believe the ghosts all through

And vow that they shall never rue

The happy chance by which they knew

That people in Jupiter are blue,

And very fond of Irish stew,

Two curious facts which Prince Lee Boo

Rapped clearly to a chosen few--

Whereas the others think 'em

A trick got up by Doctor Slade

With Deborah the chamber-maid

And that sly cretur Jinny,

That all the revelations wise,

At which the Brownites made big eyes,

Might have been given by Jared Keyes,

A natural fool and ninny,

And, last week, didn't Eliab Snooks

Come back with never better looks,

As sharp as new-bought mackerel hooks,

And bright as a new pin, eh?

Good Parson Wilbur, too, avers

(Though to be mixed in parish stirs

Is worse than handling chestnut-burs)

That no case to his mind occurs

Where spirits ever did converse

Save in a kind of guttural Erse.

(So say the best authorities;)

And that a charge by raps conveyed,

Should be most scrupulously weighed

And searched into, before it is

Made public, since it may give pain

That cannot soon be cured again,

And one word may infix a stain

Which ten cannot gloss over,

Though speaking for his private part,

He is rejoiced with all his heart

Miss Knott missed not her lover.

AN ORIENTAL APOLOGUE.

I.

Somewhere in India, upon a time,

(Read it not Injah, or you spoil the verse)

There dwelt two saints whose privilege sublime

It was to sit and watch the world grow worse,

Their only care (in that delicious clime)

At proper intervals to pray and curse;

Pracrit the dialect each prudent brother

Used for himself, Damnonian for the other.

II.

One half the time of each was spent in praying

For blessings on his own unworthy head,

The other half in fearfully portraying

Where certain folks would go when they were dead;

This system of exchanges--there's no saying

To what more solid barter 'twould have led,

But that a river, vext with boils and swellings

At rainy times, kept peace between their dwellings,

III.

So they two played at wordy battledore

And kept a curse forever in the air,

Flying this way or that from shore to shore;

No other labor did this holy pair,

Clothed and supported from the lavish store

Which crowds lanigerous brought with daily care;

They toiled not neither did they spin; their bias

Was tow'rd the harder task of being pious.

IV.

Each from his hut rushed six score times a day,

Like a great canon of the Church full-rammed

With cartridge theologic, (so to say,)

Touched himself off, and then, recoiling, slammed

His hovel's door behind him in a way

That to his foe said plainly--_you'll_ be damned;

And so like Potts and Wainwright, shrill and strong

The two D--D'd each other all day long.

V.

One was a dancing Dervise, a Mohammedan,

The other was a Hindoo, a gymnosophist;

One kept his whatd'yecallit and his Ramadan,

Laughing to scorn the sacred rites and laws of his

Transfluvial rival, who, in turn, called Ahmed an

Old top, and, as a clincher, shook across a fist

With nails six inches long, yet lifted not

His eyes from off his navel's mystic knot.

VI.

"Who whirls not round six thousand times an hour

Will go," screamed Ahmed, "to the evil place;

May he eat dirt, and may the dog and Giaour

Defile the graves of him and all his race;

Allah loves faithful souls and gives them power

To spin till they are purple in the face;

Some folks get you know what, but he that pure is

Earns Paradise and ninety thousand houries."

VII.

"Upon the silver mountain, South by East,

Sits Brahma fed upon the sacred bean;

He loves those men whose nails are still increased,

Who all their lives keep ugly, foul and lean;

'Tis of his grace that not a bird or beast

Adorned with claws like mine was ever seen;

The suns and stars are Brahma's thoughts divine

Even as these trees I seem to see are mine."

VIII.

"Thou seem'st to see, indeed!" roared Ahmed back.

"Were I but once across this plaguy stream,

With a stout sapling in my hand, one whack

On those lank ribs would rid thee of that Dream!

Thy Brahma-blasphemy is ipecac

To my soul's stomach; could'st thou grasp the scheme

Of true redemption, thou would'st know that Deity

Whirls by a kind of blessed spontaneity.

IX.

"And this it is which keeps our earth here going

With all the stars."--"O, vile! but there's a place

Prepared for such; to think of Brahma throwing

Worlds like a juggler's balls up into Space!

Why, not so much as a smooth lotos blowing

Is e'er allowed that silence to efface

Which broods around Brahma, and our earth, 'tis known,

Rests on a tortoise, moveless as this stone."

X.

So they kept up their banning amebean,

When suddenly came floating down the stream

A youth whose face like an incarnate pæan

Glowed, 'twas so full of grandeur and of gleam;

"If there _be_ gods, then, doubtless, this must be one."

Thought both at once, and then began to scream,

"Surely, whate'er immortals know, thou knowest,

Decide between us twain before thou goest!"

XI.

The youth was drifting in a slim canoe

Most like a huge white waterlily's petal,

But neither of our theologians knew

Whereof 'twas made; whether of heavenly metal

Unknown, or of a vast pearl split in two

And hollowed, was a point they could not settle;

'Twas good debate-seed, though, and bore large fruit

In after years of many a tart dispute.

XII.

There were no wings upon the stranger's shoulders

And yet he seemed so capable of rising

That, had he soared like thistledown, beholders

Had thought the circumstance noways surprising;

Enough that he remained, and, when the scolders

Hailed him as umpire in their vocal prize-ring,

The painter of his boat he lightly threw

Around a lotos-stem, and brought her to.

XIII.

The strange youth had a look as if he might

Have trod far planets where the atmosphere,

(Of nobler temper) steeps the face with light,

Just as our skins are tanned and freckled here;

His air was that of a cosmopolite

In the wide universe from sphere to sphere;

Perhaps he was (his face had such grave beauty)

An officer of Saturn's guards off duty.

XIV.

Both saints began to unfold their tales at once,

Both wished their tales, like simial ones, prehensile,

That they might seize his ear; _fool!_ _knave!_ and _dunce!_

Flew zigzag back and forth, like strokes of pencil

In a child's fingers; voluble as duns,

They jabbered like the stones on that immense hill

In the Arabian Nights; until the stranger

Began to think his ear-drum in some danger.

XV.

In general those who nothing have to say

Contrive to spend the longest time in doing it;

They turn and vary it in every way,

Hashing it, stewing it, mincing it, _ragouting_ it;

Sometimes they keep it purposely at bay,

Then let it slip to be again pursuing it;

They drone it, groan it, whisper it and shout it,

Refute it, flout it, swear to't, prove it, doubt it.

XVI.

Our saints had practised for some thirty years;

Their talk, beginning with a single stem,

Spread like a banyan, sending down live piers,

Colonies of digression, and, in them,

Germs of yet new migrations; once by the ears,

They could convey damnation in a hem,

And blow the pitch of premise-priming off

Long syllogistic batteries, with a cough.

XVII.

Each had a theory that the human ear

A providential tunnel was, which led

To a huge vacuum, (and surely here

They showed some knowledge of the general head,)

For cant to be decanted through, a mere

Auricular canal or raceway to be fed

All day and night, in sunshine and in shower,

From their vast heads of milk-and-water-power.

XVIII.

The present being a peculiar case,

Each with unwonted zeal the other scouted,

Put his spurred hobby through its very pace,

Pished, pshawed, poohed, horribled, bahed, jeered, sneered, flouted,

Sniffed, nonsensed, infideled, fudged, with his face

Looked scorn too nicely shaded, to be shouted,

And, with each inch of person and of vesture,

Contrived to hint some most disdainful gesture.

XIX.

At length, when their breath's end was come about,

And both could, now and then, just gasp "impostor!"

Holding their heads thrust menacingly out,

As staggering cocks keep up their fighting posture,

The stranger smiled and said, "Beyond a doubt

'Tis fortunate, my friends, that you have lost your

United parts of speech, or it had been

Impossible for me to get between.

XX.

"Produce! says Nature,--what have you produced?

A new straitwaistcoat for the human mind;

Are you not limbed, nerved, jointed, arteried, juiced

As other men? yet, faithless to your kind,

Rather like noxious insects you are used

To puncture life's fair fruit, beneath the rind

Laying your creed-eggs whence in time there spring

Consumers new to eat and buzz and sting.

XXI.

"Work! you have no conception how 'twill sweeten

Your views of Life and Nature, God and Man;

Had you been forced to earn what you have eaten,

Your heaven had shown a less dyspeptic plan;

At present your whole function is to eat ten

And talk ten times as rapidly as you can;

Were your shape true to cosmogonic laws,

You would be nothing but a pair of jaws.

XXII.

"Of all the useless beings in creation

The earth could spare most easily you bakers

Of little clay gods, formed in shape and fashion

Precisely in the image of their makers;

Why, it would almost move a saint to passion,

To see these blind and deaf, the hourly breakers

Of God's own image in their brother men,

Set themselves up to tell the how, where, when,

XXIII.

"Of God's existence; one's digestion's worse--

So makes a god of vengeance and of blood;

Another--but no matter, they reverse

Creation's plan, out of their own vile mud

Pat up a god, and burn, drown, hang, or curse

Whoever worships not; each keeps his stud

Of texts which wait with saddle on and bridle

To hunt down atheists to their ugly idol.

XXIV.

"This, I perceive, has been your occupation;

You should have been more usefully employed;

All men are bound to earn their daily ration,

Where States make not that primal contract void

By cramps and limits; simple devastation

Is the worm's task, and what he has destroyed

His monument; creating is man's work

And that, too, something more than mist and murk."

XXV.

So having said, the youth was seen no more,

And straightway our sage Brahmin, the philosopher,

Cried, "That was aimed at thee, thou endless bore,

Idle and useless as the growth of moss over

A rotting tree-trunk!" "I would square that score

Full soon," replied the Dervise, "could I cross over

And catch thee by the beard! Thy nails I'd trim

And make thee work, as was advised by him."

XXVI.

"Work? Am I not at work from morn till night

Sounding the deeps of oracles umbilical

Which for man's guidance never come to light,

With all their various aptitudes, until I call?"

"And I, do I not twirl from left to right

For conscience' sake? Is that no work? Thou silly gull,

He had thee in his eye; 'twas Gabriel

Sent to reward my faith, I know him well."

XXVII.

"'Twas Vishnu, thou vile whirligig!" and so

The good old quarrel was begun anew;

One would have sworn the sky was black as sloe,

Had but the other darned to call it blue;

Nor were the followers who fed them slow

To treat each other with their curses, too,

Each hating t'other (moves it tears or laughter?)

Because he thought him sure of hell hereafter.

XXVIII.

At last some genius built a bridge of boats

Over the stream, and Ahmed's zealots filed

Across, upon a mission to (cut throats

And) spread religion pure and undefiled;

They sowed the propagandist's wildest oats,

Cutting off all, down to the smallest child,

And came back, giving thanks for such fat mercies,

To find their harvest gone past prayers or curses.

XXIX.

All gone except their saint's religious hops,

Which he kept up with more than common flourish;

But these, however satisfying crops

For the inner man, were not enough to nourish

The body politic, which quickly drops

Reserve in such sad juncture, and turns currish;

So Ahmed soon got cursed for all the famine

Where'er the popular voice could edge a damn in.

XXX.

At first he pledged a miracle quite boldly,

And, for a day or two, they growled and waited:

But, finding that this kind of manna coldly

Sat on their stomachs, they ere long berated

The saint for still persisting in that old lie,

Till soon the whole machine of saintship grated,

Ran slow, creaked, stopped, and, wishing him in Tophet,

They gathered strength enough to stone the prophet.

XXXI.

Some stronger ones contrived, (by eating leather,

Their weaker friends, and one thing or another,)

The winter months of scarcity to weather;

Among these was the late saint's younger brother,

Who, in the spring, collecting them together,

Persuaded them that Ahmed's holy pother

Had wrought in their behalf, and that the place

Of Saint should be continued to his race.

XXXII.

Accordingly 'twas settled on the spot

That Allah favored that peculiar breed;

Beside, as all were satisfied, 'twould not

Be quite respectable to have the need

Of public spiritual food forgot;

And so the tribe, with proper forms decreed

That he, and, failing him, his next of kin,

Forever for the people's good should spin.

Transcriber's Notes:

Italic formatting is indicated by text enclosed in _underscores_ and

small caps and blackletter font by text enclosed in |pipes|.

Stand-alone Greek letters are not transliterated. Transliteration of

words and phrases in Greek are as follows:

ἀλγεινὰ μέν μοι καὶ λέγειν ἐστὶν τάδε ἄλγος δὲ σιγᾷν -

algeina men moi kai legein estin tade algos de sigan

τὸ πᾶν - tò pân

ἤϊε νύκτι ἐοικώς - êïe nukti eoikôs

δαιμονίως - daimoniôs

τῶν βιβλιοπωλῶν - tôn bibliopolôn

παιδοβόρος - paidoboros

πανοῦργος - panourgos

ποῦ στῶ - pou stô

κατ᾽ ἐξοχήν - kat exochên

Περὶ ῞Υψους - Peri Hypsous

Οὕτω δημόσιον κακὸν ἔρχεται οἴκαδ' ἑκάστῳ -

Houtô dêmosion kakon erchetai oikad' hekastô

Ἅπας, δὲ τραχὺς ὅστις ἂν νέον κρατῇ -

Hapas de trachus hostis an neon kratê

ποιμὴν λαῶν - poimên laôn

Asterisms are rendered as *.* or .*.

Footnotes are moved to the end of the paragraph or stanza in which they

occur.

Additional alterations:

added semicolon at end of line ... hands not theirs;...

added comma after poor ...The poor, the outcast,...

added period at end of stanza ... with the central glow....

added space between words 'mud puddle' ...on that little mud puddle...

added end quote mark ... for itself a home above."

added end quote mark ... And we'll be equally partakers."

removed apostrophe before 'the ...thet's wut the people likes;...

removed comma after Hapas, ... Hapas de trachus ...

Poems of James Russell Lowell With biographical sketch by Nathan Haskell Dole · 第 3 / 3 章