"We'll follow Cade--we'll follow Cade."
MOB.
"The views of this Mr. Bragg, and of our old fellow-traveller, Mr.
Dodge, appear to be peculiar on the subject of religious forms,"
observed Sir George Templemore, as he descended the little lawn
before the Wigwam, in company with the three ladies, Paul Powis, and
John Effingham, on their way to the lake. "I should think it would be
difficult to find another Christian, who objects to kneeling at
prayer."
"Therein you are mistaken, Templemore," answered Paul; "for this
country, to say nothing of one sect which holds it in utter
abomination, is filled with them. Our pious ancestors, like
neophytes, ran into extremes, on the subject of forms, as well as in
other matters. When you go to Philadelphia, Miss Effingham, you will
see an instance of a most ludicrous nature--ludicrous, if there were
not something painfully revolting mingled with it--of the manner in
which men can strain at a gnat and swallow a camel; and which, I am
sorry to say, is immediately connected with our own church."
It was music to Eve's ears, to hear Paul Powis speak of his pious
ancestors, as being American, and to find him so thoroughly
identifying himself with her own native land; for, while condemning
so many of its practices, and so much alive to its absurdities and
contradictions, our heroine had seen too much of other countries, not
to take an honest pride in the real excellencies of her own. There
was, also, a soothing pleasure in hearing him openly own that he
belonged to the same church as herself.
"And what is there ridiculous in Philadelphia, in particular, and in
connection with our own church?" she asked. "I am not so easily
disposed to find fault where the venerable church is concerned."
"You know that the Protestants, in their horror of idolatry,
discontinued, in a great degree, the use of the cross, as an outward
religious symbol; and that there was probably a time when there was
not a single cross to be seen in the whole of a country that was
settled by those who made a profession of love for Christ, and a
dependence on his expiation, the great business of their lives?"
"Certainly. We all know our predecessors were a little over-rigid and
scrupulous on all the points connected with outward appearances."
"They certainly contrived to render the religious rites as little
pleasing to the senses as possible, by aiming at a sublimation that
peculiarly favours spiritual pride and a pious conceit. I do not know
whether travelling has had the same effect on you, as it has produced
on me; but I find all my inherited antipathies to the mere visible
representation of the cross, superseded by a sort of solemn affection
for it, as a symbol, when it is plain, and unaccompanied by any of
those bloody and minute accessories that are so often seen around it
in Catholic countries. The German Protestants, who usually ornament
the altar with a cross, first cured me of the disrelish I imbibed, on
this subject, in childhood."
"We, also, I think, cousin John, were agreeably struck with the same
usage in Germany. From feeling a species of nervousness at the sight
of a cross, I came to love to see it; and I think you must have
undergone a similar change; for I have discovered no less than three
among the ornaments of the great window of the entrance tower, at the
Wigwam."
"You might have discovered one, also, in every door of the building,
whether great or small, young lady. Our pious ancestors, as Powis
calls them, much of whose piety, by the way, was any thing but
meliorated with spiritual humility or Christian charity, were such
ignoramuses as to set up crosses in every door they built, even while
they veiled their eyes in holy horror whenever the sacred symbol was
seen in a church."
"Every door!" exclaimed the Protestants of the party.
"Yes, literally every door, I might almost say certainly every
panelled door that was constructed twenty years since. I first
discovered the secret of our blunder, when visiting a castle in
France, that dated back from the time of the crusade. It was a
_château_ of the Montmorencies, that had passed into the hands of the
Condé family by marriage; and the courtly old domestic, who showed me
the curiosities, pointed out to me the stone _croix_ in the windows,
which has caused the latter to be called _croisées_, as a pious usage
of the crusaders. Turning to a door, I saw the same crosses in the
wooden stiles; and if you cast an eye on the first humble door that
you may pass in this village, you will detect the same symbol staring
you boldly in the face, in the very heart of a population that would
almost expire at the thoughts of placing such a sign of the beast on
their very thresholds."
The whole party expressed their surprise; but the first door they
passed corroborated this account, and proved the accuracy of John
Effingham's statements. Catholic zeal and ingenuity could not have
wrought more accurate symbols of this peculiar sign of the sect; and
yet, here they stood, staring every passenger in the face, as if
mocking the ignorant and exaggerated pretension which would lay undue
stress on the minor points of a religion, the essence of which was
faith and humility.
"And the Philadelphia church?" said Eve, quickly, so soon as her
curiosity was satisfied on the subject of the door; "I am now more
impatient than ever, to learn what silly blunder we have also
committed there."
"Impious would almost be a better term," Paul answered. "The only
church spire that existed for half a century, in that town, was
surmounted by a _mitre_, while the _cross_ was studiously rejected!"
A silence followed; for there is often more true argument in simply
presenting the facts of a case, than in all the rhetoric and logic
that could be urged, by way of auxiliaries. Every one saw the
egregious folly, not to say presumption, of the mistake; and at the
moment, every one wondered how a common-sense community could have
committed so indecent a blunder. We are mistaken. There was an
exception to the general feeling in the person of Sir George
Templemore. To his church-and-state notions, and anti-catholic
prejudices, which were quite as much political as religious, there
was every thing that was proper, and nothing that was wrong, in
rejecting a cross for a mitre.
"The church, no doubt, was Episcopal, Powis," he remarked, "and it
was not Roman. What better symbol than the mitre could be chosen?"
"Now I reflect, it is not so very strange," said Grace, eagerly, "for
you will remember, Mr. Effingham, that Protestants attach the idea of
idolatry to the cross, as it is used by Catholics."
"And of bishops, peers in parliament, church and state, to a mitre."
"Yes, but the church in question I have seen; and it was erected
before the war of the revolution. It was an English rather than an
American church."
"It was, indeed, an English church, rather than an American; and
Templemore is very right to defend it, mitre and all."
"I dare say, a bishop officiated at its altar?"
"I dare say--nay, I know, he did; and, I will add, he would rather
that the mitre were two hundred feet in the air, than down on his own
simple, white-haired, apostolical-looking head. But enough of
divinity for the morning; yonder is Tom with the boat, let us to our
oars."
The party were now on the little wharf that served as a village-
landing, and the boatman mentioned lay off, in waiting for the
arrival of his fare. Instead of using him, however, the man was
dismissed; the gentlemen preferring to handle the oars themselves.
Aquatic excursions were of constant occurrence in the warm months, on
that beautifully limpid sheet of water, and it was the practice to
dispense with the regular boatmen, whenever good oarsmen were to be
found among the company.
As soon as the light buoyant skiff was brought to the side of the
wharf, the whole party embarked; and Paul and the baronet taking the
oars, they soon urged the boat from the shore.
"The world is getting to be too confined for the adventurous spirit
of the age," said Sir George, as he and his companion pulled
leisurely along, taking the direction of the eastern shore, beneath
the forest-clad cliffs of which the ladies had expressed a wish to be
rowed; "here are Powis and myself actually rowing together on a
mountain lake of America, after having boated as companions on the
coast of Africa, and on the margin of the Great Desert. Polynesia,
and Terra Australis, may yet see us in company, as hardy cruisers."
"The spirit of the age is, indeed, working wonders in the way you
mean," said John Effingham. "Countries of which our fathers merely
read, are getting to be as familiar as our own homes to their sons;
and, with you, one can hardly foresee to what a pass of adventure the
generation or two that will follow us may not reach."
"_Vraiment, c'est fort extraordinaire de se trouver sur un lac
Americain_," exclaimed Mademoiselle Viefville.
"More extraordinary than to find one's self on a Swiss lake, think
you, my dear Mademoiselle Viefville?"
"_Non, non, mais tout aussi extraordinaire pour une Parisienne._"
"I am now about to introduce you, Mr. John Effingham and Miss Van
Cortlandt excepted," Eve continued, "to the wonders and curiosities
of this lake and region. There, near the small house that is erected
over a spring of delicious water, stood the hut of Natty Bumppo, once
known throughout all these mountains as a renowned hunter; a man who
had the simplicity of a woodsman, the heroism of a savage, the faith
of a Christian, and the feelings of a poet. A better than he, after
his fashion, seldom lived."
"We have all heard of him," said the baronet, looking round
curiously; "and must all feel an interest in what concerns so brave
and just a man. I would I could see his counterpart."
"Alas!" said John Effingham, "the days of the 'Leather-stockings'
have passed away. He preceded me in life, and I see few remains of
his character in a region where speculation is more rife than
moralizing, and emigrants are plentier than hunters. Natty probably
chose that spot for his hut on account of the vicinity of the spring:
is it not so. Miss Effingham?"
"He did; and yonder little fountain that you see gushing from the
thicket, and which comes glancing like diamonds into the lake, is
called the 'Fairy Spring,' by some flight of poetry that, like so
many of our feelings, must have been imported; for I see no
connection between the name and the character of the country, fairies
having never been known, even by tradition, in Otsego."
The boat now came under a shore where the trees fringed the very
water, frequently overhanging the element that mirrored their
fantastic forms. At this point, a light skiff was moving leisurely
along in their own direction, but a short distance in advance. On a
hint from John Effingham, a few vigorous strokes of the oars brought
the two boats near each other.
"This is the flag-ship," half whispered John Effingham, as they came
near the other skiff, "containing no less a man than the 'commodore.'
Formerly, the chief of the lake was an admiral, but that was in times
when, living nearer to the monarchy, we retained some of the European
terms; now, no man rises higher than a commodore in America, whether
it be on the ocean or on the Otsego, whatever may be his merits or
his services. A charming day, commodore; I rejoice to see you still
afloat, in your glory."
The commodore, a tail, thin, athletic man of seventy, with a white
head, and movements that were quick as those of a boy, had not
glanced aside at the approaching boat, until he was thus saluted in
the well-known voice of John Effingham. He then turned his head,
however, and scanning the whole party through his spectacles, he
smiled good-naturedly made a flourish with one hand, while he
continued paddling with the other, for he stood erect and straight in
the stern of his skiff, and answered heartily--
"A fine morning, Mr. John, and the right time of the moon for
boating. This is not a real scientific day for the fish, perhaps; but
I have just come out to see that all the points and bays are in their
right places."
"How is it, commodore, that the water near the village is less limpid
than common, and that even up here, we see so many specks floating on
its surface?"
"What a question for Mr. John Effingham to ask on his native water!
So much for travelling in far countries, where a man forgets quite as
much as he learns, I fear." Here the commodore turned entirely round,
and raising an open hand in an oratorical manner, he added,--"You
must know, ladies and gentlemen, that the lake is in blow."
"In blow, commodore! I did not know that the lake bore its blossoms."
"It does, sir, nevertheless. Ay, Mr. John, and its fruits, too; but
the last must be dug for, like potatoes. There have been no
miraculous draughts of the fishes, of late years, in the Otsego,
ladies and gentlemen; but it needs the scientific touch, and the
knowledge of baits, to get a fin of any of your true game above the
water, now-a-days. Well, I have had the head of the sogdollager
thrice in the open air, in my time; though I am told the admiral
actually got hold of him once with his hand."
"The sogdollager," said Eve, much amused with the singularities of
the man, whom she perfectly remembered to have been commander of the
lake, even in her own infancy; "we must be indebted to you for an
explanation of that term, as well as for the meaning of your allusion
to the head and the open air."
"A sogdollager, young lady, is the perfection of a thing. I know Mr.
Grant used to say there was no such word in the dictionary; but then
there are many words that ought to be in the dictionaries that have
been forgotten by the printers. In the way of salmon trout, the
sogdollager is their commodore. Now, ladies and gentlemen, I should
not like to tell you all I know about the patriarch of this lake, for
you would scarcely believe me; but if he would not weigh a hundred
when cleaned, there is not an ox in the county that will weigh a
pound when slaughtered."
"You say you had his head above water?" said John Effingham.
"Thrice, Mr. John. The first time was thirty years ago; and I confess
I lost him, on that occasion, by want of science; for the art is not
learned in a day, and I had then followed the business but ten years.
The second time was five years later: and I had then been fishing
expressly for the old gentleman, about a month. For near a minute, it
was a matter of dispute between us, whether he should come out of the
lake or I go into it; but I actually got his gills in plain sight.
That was a glorious haul! Washington did not feel better the night
Cornwallis surrendered, than I felt on that great occasion!"
"One never knows the feelings of another, it seems. I should have
thought disappointment at the loss would have been the prevailing
sentiment on that great occasion, as you so justly term it."
"So it would have been, Mr. John, with an unscientific fisherman; but
we experienced hands know better. Glory is to be measured by quality,
and not by quantity, ladies and gentlemen; and I look on it as a
greater feather in a man's cap, to see the sogdollager's head above
water, for half a minute, than to bring home a skiff filled with
pickerel. The last time I got a look at the old gentleman, I did not
try to get him into the boat, but we sat and conversed for near two
minutes; he in the water, and I in the skiff."
"Conversed!" exclaimed Eve, "and with a fish, too! What could the
animal have to say!"
"Why, young lady, a fish can talk as well as one of ourselves; the
only difficulty is to understand what he says. I have heard the old
settlers affirm, that the Leather-stocking used to talk for hours at
a time, with the animals of the forest."
"You knew the Leather-stocking, commodore?"
"No, young lady, I am sorry to say I never had the pleasure of
looking on him even. He _was_ a great man! They may talk of their
Jeffersons and Jacksons, but I set down Washington and Natty Bumppo
as the two only really great men of my time."
"What do you think of Bonaparte, commodore?" inquired Paul.
"Well, sir, Bonaparte had some strong points about him, I do really
believe. But he could have been nothing to the Leather-stocking, in
the woods! It's no great matter, young gentleman, to be a great man
among your inhabitants of cities--what I call umbrella people. Why,
Natty was almost as great with the spear as with the rifle; though I
never heard that he got a sight of the sogdollager."
"We shall meet again this summer, commodore," said John Effingham;
"the ladies wish to hear the echoes, and we must leave you."
"All very natural, Mr. John," returned the commodore, laughing, and
again flourishing his hand in his own peculiar manner. "The women all
love to hear the echoes, for they are not satisfied with what they
have once said, but they like to hear it over again. I never knew a
lady come on the Otsego, but one of the first things she did was to
get paddled to the Speaking Rocks, to have a chat with herself. They
come out in such numbers, sometimes, and then all talk at once, in a
way quite to confuse the echo. I suppose you have heard, young lady,
the opinion people have now got concerning these voices."
"I cannot say I have ever heard more than that they are some of the
most perfect echoes known;" answered Eve, turning her body, so as to
face the old man, as the skiff of the party passed that of the
veteran fisherman.
"Some people maintain that there is no echo at all, and that the
sounds we hear come from the spirit of the Leather-stocking, which
keeps about its old haunts, and repeats every thing we say, in
mockery of our invasion of the woods. I do not say this notion is
true, or that it is my own; but we all know that Natty _did_ dislike
to see a new settler arrive in the mountains, and that he loved a
tree as a muskrat loves water. They show a pine up here on the side
of the Vision, which he notched at every new-comer, until reaching
seventeen, his honest old heart could go no farther, and he gave the
matter up in despair."
"This is so poetical, commodore, it is a pity it cannot be true. I
like this explanation of the 'Speaking Rocks,' much better than that
implied by the name of 'Fairy Spring.'"
"You are quite right, young lady," called out the fisherman, as the
boats separated still farther; "there never was any fairy known in
Otsego; but the time has been when we could boast of a Natty Bumppo."
Here the commodore flourished his hand again, and Eve nodded her
adieus. The skiff of the party continued to pull slowly along the
fringed shore, occasionally sheering more into the lake, to avoid
some overhanging and nearly horizontal tree, and then returning so
closely to the land, as barely to clear the pebbles of the narrow
strand with the oar.
Eve thought she had never beheld a more wild or beautifully
variegated foliage, than that which the whole leafy mountainside
presented. More than half of the forest of tall, solemn pines, that
had veiled the earth when the country was first settled, had already
disappeared; but, agreeably to one of the mysterious laws by which
nature is governed, a rich second growth, that included nearly every
variety of American wood, had shot up in their places. The rich
Rembrandt-like hemlocks, in particular, were perfectly beautiful,
contrasting admirably with the livelier tints of the various
deciduous trees. Here and there, some flowering shrub rendered the
picture gay, while masses of the rich chestnut, in blossom, lay in
clouds of natural glory among the dark tops of the pines.
The gentlemen pulled the light skiff fully a mile under this
overhanging foliage, occasionally frightening some migratory bird
from a branch, or a water-fowl from the narrow strand. At length,
John Effingham desired them to cease rowing, and managing the skiff
for a minute or two with the paddle which he had used in steering, he
desired the whole party to look up, announcing to them that they were
beneath the 'Silent Pine.'
A common exclamation of pleasure succeeded the upward glance; for it
is seldom that a tree is seen to more advantage than that which
immediately attracted every eye. The pine stood on the bank, with its
roots embedded in the earth, a few feet higher than the level of the
lake, but in such a situation as to bring the distance above the
water into the apparent height of the tree. Like all of its kind that
grows in the dense forests of America, its increase, for a thousand
years, had been upward; and it now stood in solitary glory, a
memorial of what the mountains which were yet so rich in vegetation
had really been in their days of nature and pride. For near a hundred
feet above the eye, the even round trunk was branchless, and then
commenced the dark-green masses of foliage, which clung around the
stem like smoke ascending in wreaths. The tall column-like tree had
inclined to wards the light when struggling among its fellows, and it
now so far overhung the lake, that its summit may have been some ten
or fifteen feet without the base. A gentle, graceful curve added to
the effect of this variation from the perpendicular, and infused
enough of the fearful into the grand, to render the picture sublime.
Although there was not a breath of wind on the lake, the currents
were strong enough above the forest to move this lofty object, and it
was just possible to detect a slight, graceful yielding of the very
uppermost boughs to the passing air.
"This pine is ill-named," cried Sir George Templemore, "for it is the
most eloquent tree eye of mine has ever looked on!"
"It is, indeed, eloquent," answered Eve; "one hears it speak even now
of the fierce storms that have whistled round its tops--of the
seasons that have passed since it extricated that verdant cap from
the throng of sisters that grew beneath it, and of all that has
passed on the Otsego, when this limpid lake lay, like a gem embedded
in the forest. When the Conqueror first landed in England, this tree
stood on the spot where it now stands! Here, then, is at last, an
American antiquity!"
"A true and regulated taste, Miss Effingham," said Paul, "has pointed
out to you one of the real charms of the country. Were we to think
less of the artificial, and more of our natural excellencies, we
should render ourselves less liable to criticism."
Eve was never inattentive when Paul spoke; and her colour heightened,
as he paid this compliment to her taste, but still her soft blue eye
was riveted on the pine.
"Silent it may be, in one respect, but it is, indeed, all eloquence
in another," she resumed, with a fervour that was not lessened by
Paul's remark. "That crest of verdure, which resembles a plume of
feathers, speaks of a thousand things to the imagination."
"I have never known a person of any poetry, who came under this
tree," said John Effingham, "that did not fall into this very train
of thought. I once brought a man celebrated for his genius here, and,
after gazing for a minute or two at the high, green tuft that tops
the tree, he exclaimed, 'that mass of green waved there in the fierce
light when Columbus first ventured into the unknown sea.' It is,
indeed, eloquent; for it tells the same glowing tale to all who
approach it--a tale fraught with feeling and recollections."
"And yet its silence is, after all, its eloquence," added Paul; "and
the name is not so misplaced as one might at first think."
"It probably obtained its name from some fancied contrast to the
garrulous rocks that lie up yonder, half concealed by the forest. If
you will ply the oars, gentlemen, we will now hold a little communion
with the spirit of the Leather-stocking."
The young men complied; and in about five minutes, the skiff was off
in the lake, at the distance of fifty rods from the shore, where the
whole mountainside came at one glance into the view. Here they lay on
their oars, and John Effingham called out to the rocks a "good
morning," in a clear distinct voice. The mocking sounds were thrown
back again, with a closeness of resemblance that actually startled
the novice. Then followed other calls and other repetitions of the
echoes, which did not lose the minutest intonation of the voice.
"This actually surpasses the celebrated echoes of the Rhine," cried
the delighted Eve; "for, though those do give the strains of the
bugle so clearly, I do not think they answer to the voice with so
much fidelity."
"You are very right, Eve," replied her kinsman, "for I can recall no
place where so perfect and accurate an echo is to be heard as at
these speaking rocks. By increasing our distance to half a mile, and
using a bugle, as I well know, from actual experiment, we should get
back entire passages of an air. The interval between the sound and
the echo, too, would be distinct, and would give time for an
undivided attention. Whatever may be said of the 'pine,' these rocks
are most aptly named; and if the spirit of Leather-stocking has any
concern with the matter, he is a mocking spirit."
John Effingham now looked at his watch, and then he explained to the
party a pleasure he had in store for them. On a sort of small, public
promenade, that lay at the point where the river flowed out of the
lake, stood a rude shell of a building that was called the "gun-
house." Here, a speaking picture of the entire security of the
country, from foes within as well as from foes without, were kept two
or three pieces of field artillery, with doors so open that any one
might enter the building, and even use the guns at will, although
they properly belonged to the organized corps of the state.
One of these guns had been sent a short distance down the valley; and
John Effingham informed his companions that they might look
momentarily for its reports to arouse the echoes of the mountains. He
was still speaking when the gun was fired, its muzzle being turned
eastward. The sound first reached the side of the Vision, abreast of
the village, whence the reverberations reissued, and rolled along the
range, from cave to cave, and cliff to cliff, and wood to wood, until
they were lost, like distant thunder, two or three leagues to the
northward. The experiment was thrice repeated, and always with the
same magnificent effect, the western hills actually echoing the
echoes of the eastern mountains, like the dying strains of some
falling music.
"Such a locality would be a treasure in the vicinity of a melo-
dramatic theatre," said Paul, laughing, "for certainly, no artificial
thunder I have ever heard has equalled this. This sheet of water
might even receive a gondola."
"And yet, I fear one accustomed to the boundless horizon of the
ocean, might in time weary of it," answered John Effingham,
significantly.
Paul made no answer; and the party rowed away in silence.
"Yonder is the spot where we have so long been accustomed to resort
for Pic-Nics," said Eve, pointing out a lovely place, that was
beautifully shaded by old oaks, and on which stood a rude house that
was much dilapidated, and indeed injured, by the hands of man. John
Effingham smiled, as his cousin showed the place to her companions,
promising them an early and a nearer view of its beauties.
"By the way, Miss Effingham," he said, "I suppose you flatter
yourself with being the heiress of that desirable retreat?"
"It is very natural that, at some day, though I trust a very distant
one, I should succeed to that which belongs to my dear father."
"Both natural and legal, my fair cousin; but you are yet to learn
that there is a power that threatens to rise up and dispute your
claim."
"What power--human power, at least--can dispute the lawful claim of
an owner to his property? That Point has been ours ever since
civilized man has dwelt among these hills; who will presume to rob us
of it?"
"You will be much surprised to discover that there is such a power,
and that there is actually a disposition to exercise it. The public--
the all-powerful omnipotent, overruling, law-making, law-breaking
public--has a passing caprice to possess itself of your beloved
Point; and Ned Effingham must show unusual energy, or it will get
it?"
"Are you serious, cousin Jack?"
"As serious as the magnitude of the subject can render a responsible
being, as Mr. Dodge would say."
Eve said no more, but she looked vexed, and remained almost silent
until they landed, when she hastened to seek her father, with a view
to communicate what she had heard. Mr. Effingham listened to his
daughter, as he always did, with tender interest; and when she had
done, he kissed her glowing cheek, bidding her not to believe that
which she seemed so seriously to dread, possible.
"But, cousin John would not trifle with me on such a subject,
father," Eve continued; "he knows how much I prize all those little
heir-looms that are connected with the affections."
"We can inquire further into the affair, my child, if it be your
desire; ring for Pierre, if you please."
Pierre answered, and a message was sent to Mr. Bragg, requiring his
presence in the library.
Aristabulus appeared, by no means in the best humour, for he disliked
having been omitted in the late excursion on the lake, fancying that
he had a community-right to share in all his neighbour's amusements,
though he had sufficient self-command to conceal his feelings.
"I wish to know, sir," Mr. Effingham commenced, without introduction,
"whether there can be any mistake concerning the ownership of the
Fishing Point on the west side of the lake."
"Certainly not, sir; it belongs to the public."
Mr. Effingham's cheek glowed, and he looked astonished: but he
remained calm.
"The public! Do you gravely affirm, Mr. Bragg, that the public
pretends to claim that Point?"
"Claim, Mr. Effingham! as long as I have resided in this county, I
have never heard its right disputed."
"Your residence in this county, sir, is not of very ancient date, and
nothing is easier than that _you_ may be mistaken. I confess some
curiosity to know in what manner the public has acquired its title to
the spot. You are a lawyer, Mr. Bragg, and may give an intelligible
account of it."
"Why, sir, your father gave it to them in his lifetime. Every body,
in all this region, will tell you as much as this."
"Do you suppose, Mr. Bragg, there is any body in all this region who
will swear to the fact? Proof, you well know, is very requisite even
to obtain justice."
"I much question, sir, if there be any body in all this region that
will not swear to the fact. It is the common tradition of the whole
country; and, to be frank with you, sir, there is a little
displeasure, because Mr. John Effingham has talked of giving private
entertainments on the Point."
"This, then, only shows how idly and inconsiderately the traditions
of the country take their rise. But, as I wish to understand all the
points of the case, do me the favour to walk into the village, and
inquire of those whom you think the best informed in the matter, what
they know of the Point, in order that I may regulate my course
accordingly. Be particular, if you please, on the subject of title,
as one would not wish to move in the dark."
Aristabulus quitted the house immediately, and Eve, perceiving that
things were in the right train, left her father alone to meditate on
what had just passed. Mr. Effingham walked up and down his library
for some time, much disturbed, for the spot in question was
identified with all his early feelings and recollections; and if
there were a foot of land on earth, to which he was more attached
than to all others, next to his immediate residence, it was this.
Still, he could not conceal from himself, in despite of his
opposition to John Effingham's sarcasms, that his native country had
undergone many changes since he last resided in it, and that some of
these changes were quite sensibly for the worse. The spirit of
misrule was abroad, and the lawless and unprincipled held bold
language, when it suited their purpose to intimidate. As he ran over
in his mind, however, the facts of the case, and the nature of his
right, he smiled to think that any one should contest it, and sat
down to his writing, almost forgetting that there had been any
question at all on the unpleasant subject.
Aristabulus was absent for several hours, nor did he return until Mr.
Effingham was dressed for dinner, and alone in the library, again,
having absolutely lost all recollection of the commission he had
given his agent.
"It is as I told you, sir--the public insists that it owns the Point;
and I feel it my duty to say, Mr. Effingham, that the public is
determined to maintain its claim."
"Then, Mr. Bragg, it is proper I should tell the public that it is
_not_ the owner of the Point, but that _I_ am its owner, and that I
am determined to maintain _my_ claim."
"It is hard to kick against the pricks, Mr. Effingham."
"It is so, sir, as the public will discover, if it persevere in
invading a private right."
"Why, sir, some of those with whom I have conversed have gone so far
as to desire me to tell you--I trust my motive will not be
mistaken----"
"If you have any communication to make, Mr. Bragg, do it without
reserve. It is proper I should know the truth exactly."
"Well, then, sir, I am the bearer of something like a defiance; the
people wish you to know that they hold your right cheaply, and that
they laugh at it. Not to mince matters, they defy you."
"I thank you for this frankness, Mr. Bragg, and increases my respect
for your character. Affairs are now at such a pass, that it is
necessary to act. If you will amuse yourself with a book for a
moment, I shall have further occasion for your kindness."
Aristabulus did not read, for he was too much filled with wonder at
seeing a man so coolly set about contending with that awful public
which he himself as habitually deferred to, as any Asiatic slave
defers to his monarch. Indeed, nothing but his being sustained by
that omnipotent power, as he viewed the power of the public to be,
had emboldened him to speak so openly to his employer, for
Aristabulus felt a secret confidence that, right or wrong, it was
always safe in America to make the most fearless professions in
favour of the great body of the community. In the mean time, Mr.
Effingham wrote a simple advertisement, against trespassing on the
property in question, and handed it to the other, with a request that
he would have it inserted in the number of the village paper that was
to appear next morning. Mr. Bragg took the advertisement, and went to
execute the duty without comment.
The evening arrived before Mr. Effingham was again alone, when, being
by himself in the library once more, Mr. Bragg entered, full of his
subject. He was followed by John Effingham, who had gained an inkling
of what had passed.
"I regret to say, Mr. Effingham," Aristabulus commenced, "that your
advertisement has created one of the greatest excitements it has ever
been my ill-fortune to witness in Templeton."
"All of which ought to be very encouraging to us, Mr.. Bragg, as men
under excitement are usually wrong."
"Very true, sir, as regards individual excitement, but this is a
public excitement."
"I am not at all aware that the fact, in the least alters the case.
If one excited man is apt to do silly things, half a dozen backers
will be very likely to increase his folly."
Aristabulus listened with wonder, for excitement was one of the means
for effecting public objects, so much practised by men of his habits,
that it had never crossed his mind any single individual could be
indifferent to its effect. To own the truth, he had anticipated so
much unpopularity, from his unavoidable connexion with the affair, as
to have contributed himself in producing the excitement, with the
hope of "choking Mr. Effingham off," as he had elegantly expressed it
to one of his intimates, in the vernacular of the country.
"A public excitement is a powerful engine, Mr. Effingham!" he
exclaimed, in a sort of politico pious horror.
"I am fully aware, sir, that it may be even a fearfully powerful
engine. Excited men, acting in masses, compose what are called mobs,
and have committed a thousand excesses."
"Your advertisement is, to the last degree, disrelished; to be very
sincere, it is awfully unpopular!"
"I suppose it is always what you term an unpopular act, so far as the
individuals opposed are concerned, to resist aggression."
"But they call your advertisement aggression, sir."
"In that simple fact exist all the merits of the question. If I own
this property, the public, or that portion of it which is connected
with this affair, are aggressors; and so much more in the wrong that
they are many against one; if _they_ own the property, I am not only
wrong, but very indiscreet."
The calmness with which Mr. Effingham spoke had an effect on
Aristabulus, and, for a moment, he was staggered. It was only for a
moment, however, as the pains and penalties of unpopularity presented
themselves afresh to an imagination that had been so long accustomed
to study the popular caprice, that it had got to deem the public
favour the one great good of life.
"But _they_ say, _they_ own the Point, Mr. Effingham."
"And _I_ say, they do _not_ own the Point, Mr. Bragg; never _did_ own
it; and, with my consent, never _shall_ own it."
"This is purely a matter of fact," observed John Effingham, "and I
confess I am curious to know how or whence this potent public derives
its title. You are lawyer enough, Mr. Bragg, to know that the public
can hold property only by use, or by especial statute. Now, under
which title does this claim present itself."
"First, by use, sir, and then by especial gift."
"The use, you are aware, must be adverse, or as opposed to the title
of the other claimants. Now, I am a living witness that my late uncle
_permitted_ the public to use this Point, and that the public
accepted the conditions. Its use, therefore, has not been adverse,
or, at least, not for a time sufficient to make title. Every hour
that my cousin has _permitted_ the public to enjoy his property, adds
to his right, as well as to the obligation conferred on that public,
and increases the duty of the latter to cease intruding, whenever he
desires it. If there is an especial gift, as I understand you to say,
from my late uncle, there must also be a law to enable the public to
hold, or a trustee; which is the fact?"
"I admit, Mr. John Effingham, that I have seen neither deed nor law,
and I doubt if the latter exist. Still the public _must_ have some
claim, for it is impossible that every body should be mistaken."
"Nothing is easier, nor any thing more common, than for whole
communities to be mistaken, and more particularly when they commence
with excitement."
While his cousin was speaking, Mr. Effingham went to a secretary, and
taking out a large bundle of papers, he laid it down on the table,
unfolding several parchment deeds, to which massive seals, bearing
the arms of the late colony, as well as those of England, were
pendent.
"Here are my titles, sir," he said, addressing Aristabulus pointedly;
"if the public has a better, let it be produced, and I shall at once
submit to its claim."
"No one doubts that the King, through his authorized agent, the
Governor of the colony of New-York, granted this estate to your
predecessor, Mr. Effingham; or that it descended legally to your
immediate parent; but all contend that your parent gave this spot to
the public, as a spot of public resort."
"I am glad that the question is narrowed down within limits that are
so easily examined. What evidence is there of this intention, on the
part of my late father?"
"Common report; I have talked with twenty people in the village, and
they all agree that the 'Point' has been used by the public, as
public property, from time immemorial."
"Will you be so good, Mr. Bragg, as to name some of those who affirm
this."
Mr. Bragg complied, naming quite the number of persons he had
mentioned, with a readiness that proved he thought he was advancing
testimony of weight.
"Of all the names you have mentioned," returned Mr. Effingham, "I
never heard but three, and these are the names of mere boys. The
first dozen are certainly the names of persons who can know no more
of this village than they have gleaned in the last few years; and
several of them, I understand, have dwelt among us but a few weeks;
nay, days."
"Have I not told you, Ned," interrupted John Effingham, "that, an
American 'always' means eighteen months, and that 'time immemorial'
is only since the last general crisis in the money market!"
"The persons I have mentioned compose a part of the population, sir,"
added Mr. Bragg, "and, one and all, they are ready to swear that your
father, by some means or other, they are not very particular as to
minutiae, gave them the right to use this property."
"They are mistaken, and I should be sorry that any one among them
should swear to such a falsehood. But here are my titles--let them
show better, or, if they can, any, indeed."
"Perhaps your father abandoned the place to the public; this might
make a good claim."
"That he did not, I am a living proof to the contrary; he left it to
his heirs at his death, and I myself exercised full right of
ownership over it, until I went abroad. I did not travel with it in
my pocket, sir, it is true; but I left it to the protection of the
laws, which, I trust, are as available to the rich as to the poor,
although this is a free country."
"Well, sir, I suppose a jury must determine the point, as you seem
firm; though I warn you, Mr. Effingham, as one who knows his country,
that a verdict, in the face of a popular feeling, is rather a
hopeless matter. If they prove that your late father intended to
abandon or give this property to the public, your case will be lost."
Mr. Effingham looked among the papers a moment, and selecting one, he
handed it to Mr. Bragg, first pointing out to his notice a particular
paragraph.
"This, sir, is my late father's will," Mr. Effingham said mildly;
"and, in that particular clause, you will find that he makes a
special devise of this very 'Point,' leaving it to his heirs, in such
terms as to put any intention to give it to the public quite out of
the question. This, at least, is the latest evidence I, his only son,
executor, and heir possess of his final wishes; if that wondering and
time-immemorial public of which you speak, has a better, I wait with
patience that it may be produced."
The composed manner of Mr. Effingham had deceived Aristabulus, who
did not anticipate any proof so completely annihilating to the
pretensions of the public, as that he now held in his hand. It was a
simple, brief devise, disposing of the piece of property in question,
and left it without dispute, that Mr. Effingham had succeeded to all
the rights of his father, with no reservation or condition of any
sort.
"This is very extraordinary!" exclaimed Mr. Bragg, when he had read
the clause seven times, each perusal contributing to leave the case
still clearer in favour of his employer, the individual, and still
stronger against the hoped-for future employers, the people. "The
public ought to know of this bequest of the late Mr. Effingham."
"I think it ought, sir, before it pretended to deprive his child of
his property; or, rather, it ought to be certain, at least, that
there was no such devise."
"You will excuse me, Mr. Effingham, but I think it is incumbent on a
private citizen, in a case of this sort, when the public has taken up
a wrong notion, as I now admit is clearly the fact as regards the
Point, to enlighten it, and to inform it that it does not own the
spot."
"This has been done already, Mr. Bragg, in the advertisement you had
the goodness to carry to the printers, although I deny that there
exists any such obligation."
"But, sir, they object to the mode you have chosen to set them
right."
"The mode is usual, I believe in the case of trespasses."
"They expect something different, sir, in an affair in which the
public is--is--is--all--"
"Wrong," put in John Effingham, pointedly. "I have heard something of
this out of doors, Ned, and blame you for your moderation. Is it true
that you had told several of your neighbours that you have no wish to
prevent them from using the Point, but that your sole object is
merely to settle the question of right, and to prevent intrusions on
your family when it is enjoying its own place of retirement?"
"Certainly, John, my only wish is to preserve the property for those
to whom it is especially devised, to allow those who have the best,
nay, the only right to it, its undisturbed possession, occasionally,
and to prevent any more of that injury to the trees that has been
committed by some of those rude men, who always fancy themselves so
completely all the public, as to be masters, in their own particular
persons, whenever the public has any claim. I can have no wish to
deprive my neighbours of the innocent pleasure of visiting the Point,
though I am fully determined they shall not deprive me of my
property."
"You are far more indulgent than I should be, or perhaps, than you
will be yourself, when you read this."
As John Effingham spoke, he handed his kinsman a small handbill,
which purported to call a meeting for that night, of the inhabitants
of Templeton, to resist his arrogant claim to the disputed property.
This handbill had the usual marks of a feeble and vulgar malignancy
about it, affecting to call Mr. Effingham, "_one_ Mr. Effingham," and
it was anonymous.
"This is scarcely worth our attention, John," said Mr. Effingham,
mildly. "Meetings of this sort cannot decide a legal title, and no
man who respects himself will be the tool of so pitiful an attempt to
frighten a citizen from maintaining his rights."
"I agree with you, as respects the meeting, which has been conceived
in ignorance and low malice, and will probably end, as all such
efforts end, in ridicule. But----"
"Excuse me, Mr. John," interrupted Aristabulus, "there is an awful
excitement! Some have even spoken of Lynching!"
"Then," said Mr. Effingham, "it does, indeed, require that we should
be more firm. Do _you_, sir, know of any person who has dared to use
such a menace?"
Aristabulus quailed before the stern eye of Mr. Effingham, and he
regretted having communicated so much, though he had communicated
nothing but the truth. He stammered out an obscure and half-
intelligible explanation, and proposed to attend the meeting in
person, in order that he might be in the way of understanding the
subject, without falling into the danger of mistake. To this Mr.
Effingham assented, as he felt too indignant at this outrage on all
his rights, whether as a citizen or a man, to wish to pursue the
subject with his agent that night. Aristabulus departed, and John
Effingham remained closeted with his kinsman until the family
retired. During this long interview, the former communicated many
things to the latter, in relation to this very affair, of which the
owner of the property, until then, had been profoundly ignorant.