Wouter Van Twiller, from the consideration that he was not only the
first, but also the best governor that ever presided over this ancient
and respectable province; and so tranquil and benevolent was his reign,
that I do not find throughout the whole of it a single instance of any
offender being brought to punishment,--a most indubitable sign of a
merciful governor, and a case unparalleled, excepting in the reign of
the illustrious King Log, from whom, it is hinted, the renowned Van
Twiller was a lineal descendant.
The very outset of the career of this excellent magistrate was
distinguished by an example of legal acumen, that gave flattering
presage of a wise and equitable administration. The morning after he had
been installed in office, and at the moment that he was making his
breakfast from a prodigious earthen dish, filled with milk and Indian
pudding, he was interrupted by the appearance of Wandle Schoonhoven, a
very important old burgher of New Amsterdam, who complained bitterly of
one Barent Bleecker, inasmuch as he refused to come to a settlement of
accounts, seeing that there was a heavy balance in favor of the said
Wandle. Governor Van Twiller, as I have already observed, was a man of
few words; he was likewise a mortal enemy to multiplying writings--or
being disturbed at his breakfast. Having listened attentively to the
statement of Wandle Schoonhoven, giving an occasional grunt, as he
shoveled a spoonful of Indian pudding into his mouth,--either as a sign
that he relished the dish, or comprehended the story,--he called unto
him his constable, and pulling out of his breeches-pocket a huge
jack-knife, dispatched it after the defendant as a summons, accompanied
by his tobacco-box as a warrant.
This summary process was as effectual in those simple days as was the
seal-ring of the great Haroun Alraschid among the true believers. The
two parties being confronted before him, each produced a book of
accounts, written in a language and character that would have puzzled
any but a High-Dutch commentator, or a learned decipherer of Egyptian
obelisks. The sage Wouter took them one after the other, and having
poised them in his hands, and attentively counted over the number of
leaves, fell straightway into a very great doubt, and smoked for half an
hour without saying a word; at length, laying his finger beside his
nose, and shutting his eyes for a moment, with the air of a man who has
just caught a subtle idea by the tail, he slowly took his pipe from his
mouth, puffed forth a column of tobacco-smoke, and with marvelous
gravity and solemnity pronounced, that, having carefully counted over
the leaves and weighed the books, it was found, that one was just as
thick and as heavy as the other: therefore, it was the final opinion of
the court that the accounts were equally balanced: therefore, Wandle
should give Barent a receipt, and Barent should give Wandle a receipt,
and the constable should pay the costs.
This decision, being straightway made known, diffused general joy
throughout New Amsterdam, for the people immediately perceived that they
had a very wise and equitable magistrate to rule over them. But its
happiest effect was, that not another lawsuit took place throughout the
whole of his administration; and the office of constable fell into such
decay, that there was not one of those losel scouts known in the
province for many years. I am the more particular in dwelling on this
transaction, not only because I deem it one of the most sage and
righteous judgments on record, and well worthy the attention of modern
magistrates, but because it was a miraculous event in the history of the
renowned Wouter--being the only time he was ever known to come to a
decision in the whole course of his life.
THE EXPERIENCES OF THE A.C.
BY BAYARD TAYLOR
"Bridgeport! Change cars for the Naugatuck Railroad!" shouted the
conductor of the New York and Boston Express Train, on the evening of
May 27, 1858.... Mr. Johnson, carpet-bag in hand, jumped upon the
platform, entered the office, purchased a ticket for Waterbury, and was
soon whirling in the Naugatuck train towards his destination.
On reaching Waterbury, in the soft spring twilight, Mr. Johnson walked
up and down in front of the station, curiously scanning the faces of the
assembled crowd. Presently he noticed a gentleman who was performing the
same operation upon the faces of the alighting passengers. Throwing
himself directly in the way of the latter, the two exchanged a steady
gaze.
"Is your name Billings?" "Is your name Johnson?" were simultaneous
questions, followed by the simultaneous exclamations,--"Ned!" "Enos!"
Then there was a crushing grasp of hands, repeated after a pause, in
testimony of ancient friendship, and Mr. Billings, returning to
practical life, asked:
"Is that all your baggage? Come, I have a buggy here: Eunice has heard
the whistle, and she'll be impatient to welcome you."
The impatience of Eunice (Mrs. Billings, of course) was not of long
duration; for in five minutes thereafter she stood at the door of her
husband's chocolate-colored villa, receiving his friend....
J. Edward Johnson was a tall, thin gentleman of forty-five.... A year
before, some letters, signed "Foster, Kirkup & Co., per Enos Billings,"
had accidently revealed to him the whereabouts of the old friend of his
youth, with whom we now find him domiciled....
"Enos," said he, as he stretched out his hand for the third cup of tea
(which he had taken only for the purpose of prolonging the pleasant
table-chat), "I wonder which of us is most changed."
"You, of course," said Mr. Billings, "with your brown face and big
moustache. Your own brother wouldn't have known you, if he had seen you
last, as I did, with smooth cheeks and hair of unmerciful length. Why,
not even your voice is the same!"
"That is easily accounted for," replied Mr. Johnson. "But in your case,
Enos, I am puzzled to find where the difference lies. Your features seem
to be but little changed, now that I can examine them at leisure; yet it
is not the same face. But really, I never looked at you for so long a
time, in those days. I beg pardon; you used to be so--so remarkably
shy."
Mr. Billings blushed slightly, and seemed at a loss what to answer. His
wife, however, burst into a merry laugh, exclaiming:
"Oh, that was before the days of the A.C.!"
He, catching the infection, laughed also; in fact, Mr. Johnson laughed,
but without knowing why.
"The 'A.C.'!" said Mr. Billings. "Bless me, Eunice! how long it is since
we have talked of that summer! I had almost forgotten that there ever
was an A.C.... Well, the A.C. culminated in '45. You remember something
of the society of Norridgeport, the last winter you were there? Abel
Mallory, for instance?"
"Let me think a moment," said Mr. Johnson, reflectively. "Really, it
seems like looking back a hundred years. Mallory,--wasn't that the
sentimental young man, with wispy hair, a tallowy skin, and big, sweaty
hands, who used to be spouting Carlyle on the 'reading evenings' at
Shelldrake's? Yes, to be sure; and there was Hollins, with his clerical
face and infidel talk,--and Pauline Ringtop, who used to say, 'The
Beautiful is the Good.' I can still hear her shrill voice singing,
'Would that _I_ were beautiful, would that _I_ were fair!'"
There was a hearty chorus of laughter at poor Miss Ringtop's expense. It
harmed no one, however; for the tar-weed was already becoming thick over
her Californian grave.
"Oh, I see," said Mr. Billings, "you still remember the absurdities of
those days. In fact, I think you partially saw through them then. But I
was younger, and far from being so clear-headed, and I looked upon those
evenings at Shelldrake's as being equal, at least, to the _symposia_ of
Plato. Something in Mallory always repelled me. I detested the sight of
his thick nose, with the flaring nostrils, and his coarse, half-formed
lips, of the bluish color of raw corned-beef. But I looked upon these
feelings as unreasonable prejudices, and strove to conquer them, seeing
the admiration which he received from others. He was an oracle on the
subject of 'Nature.' Having eaten nothing for two years, except Graham
bread, vegetables without salt, and fruits, fresh or dried, he
considered himself to have attained an antediluvian purity of
health,--or that he would attain it, so soon as two pimples on his left
temple should have healed. These pimples he looked upon as the last
feeble stand made by the pernicious juices left from the meat he had
formerly eaten and the coffee he had drunk. His theory was, that through
a body so purged and purified none but true and natural impulses could
find access to the soul. Such, indeed, was the theory we all held....
"Shelldrake was a man of more pretense than real cultivation, as I
afterwards discovered. He was in good circumstances, and always glad to
receive us at his house, as this made him virtually the chief of our
tribe, and the outlay for refreshments involved only the apples from his
own orchard, and water from his well....
"Well, 'twas in the early part of '45,--I think in April,--when we were
all gathered together, discussing, as usual, the possibility of leading
a life in accordance with Nature. Abel Mallory was there, and Hollins,
and Miss Ringtop, and Faith Levis, with her knitting,--and also Eunice
Hazleton, a lady whom you have never seen, but you may take my wife as
her representative....
"I wish I could recollect some of the speeches made on that occasion.
Abel had but one pimple on his temple (there was a purple spot where the
other had been), and was estimating that in two or three months more he
would be a true, unspoiled man. His complexion, nevertheless, was more
clammy and whey-like than ever.
"'Yes,' said he, 'I also am an Arcadian! This false dual existence which
I have been leading will soon be merged in the unity of Nature. Our
lives must conform to her sacred law. Why can't we strip off these
hollow Shams' (he made great use of that word), 'and be our true selves,
pure, perfect, and divine?' ...
"Shelldrake, however, turning to his wife, said,--
"'Elviry, how many up-stairs rooms is there in that house down on the
Sound?'
"'Four,--besides three small ones under the roof. Why, what made you
think of that, Jesse?' said she.
"'I've got an idea, while Abel's been talking,' he answered. 'We've
taken a house for the summer, down the other side of Bridgeport, right
on the water, where there's good fishing and a fine view of the Sound.
Now there's room enough for all of us,--at least, all that can make it
suit to go. Abel, you and Enos, and Pauline and Eunice might fix matters
so that we could all take the place in partnership, and pass the summer
together, living a true and beautiful life in the bosom of Nature. There
we shall be perfectly free and untrammelled by the chains which still
hang around us in Norridgeport. You know how often we have wanted to be
set on some island in the Pacific Ocean, where we could build up a true
society, right from the start. Now, here's a chance to try the
experiment for a few months, anyhow.'
"Eunice clapped her hands (yes, you did!) and cried out,--
"'Splendid! Arcadian! I'll give up my school for the summer.' ...
"Abel Mallory, of course, did not need to have the proposal repeated. He
was ready for anything which promised indolence and the indulgence of
his sentimental tastes. I will do the fellow the justice to say that he
was not a hypocrite. He firmly believed both in himself and his
ideas,--especially the former. He pushed both hands through the long
wisps of his drab-colored hair, and threw his head back until his wide
nostrils resembled a double door to his brain.
"'O Nature!' he said, 'you have found your lost children! We shall obey
your neglected laws! we shall hearken to your divine whispers! we shall
bring you back from your ignominious exile, and place you on your
ancestral throne!' ...
"The company was finally arranged to consist of the Shelldrakes,
Hollins, Mallory, Eunice, Miss Ringtop, and myself. We did not give much
thought, either to the preparations in advance, or to our mode of life
when settled there. We were to live near to Nature: that was the main
thing.
"'What shall we call the place?' asked Eunice.
"'Arcadia!' said Abel Mallory, rolling up his large green eyes.
"'Then,' said Hollins, 'let us constitute ourselves the Arcadian Club!'"
--"Aha!" interrupted Mr. Johnson, "I see! The A.C.!"
"Yes, you see the A.C. now, but to understand it fully you should have
had a share in those Arcadian experiences.... It was a lovely afternoon
in June when we first approached Arcadia.... Perkins Brown, Shelldrake's
boy-of-all-work, awaited us at the door. He had been sent on two or
three days in advance, to take charge of the house, and seemed to have
had enough of hermit-life, for he hailed us with a wild whoop, throwing
his straw hat half-way up one of the poplars. Perkins was a boy of
fifteen, the child of poor parents, who were satisfied to get him off
their hands, regardless as to what humanitarian theories might be tested
upon him. As the Arcadian Club recognized no such thing as caste, he was
always admitted to our meetings, and understood just enough of our
conversation to excite a silly ambition in his slow mind....
"Our board, that evening, was really tempting. The absence of meat was
compensated to us by the crisp and racy onions, and I craved only a
little salt, which had been interdicted, as a most pernicious substance.
I sat at one corner of the table, beside Perkins Brown, who took an
opportunity, while the others were engaged in conversation, to jog my
elbow gently. As I turned towards him, he said nothing, but dropped his
eyes significantly. The little rascal had the lid of a blacking-box,
filled with salt, upon his knee, and was privately seasoning his onions
and radishes. I blushed at the thought of my hypocrisy, but the onions
were so much better that I couldn't help dipping into the lid with him.
"'Oh,' said Eunice, 'we must send for some oil and vinegar! This lettuce
is very nice.'
"'Oil and vinegar?' exclaimed Abel.
"'Why, yes,' said she, innocently: 'they are both vegetable substances.'
"Abel at first looked rather foolish, but quickly recovering himself,
said,--
"'All vegetable substances are not proper for food: you would not taste
the poison-oak, or sit under the upas-tree of Java.'
"'Well, Abel,' Eunice rejoined, 'how are we to distinguish what is best
for us? How are we to know _what_ vegetables to choose, or what animal
and mineral substances to avoid?'
"I will tell you,' he answered, with a lofty air. 'See here!' pointing
to his temple, where the second pimple--either from the change of air,
or because, in the excitement of the last few days, he had forgotten
it--was actually healed. 'My blood is at last pure. The struggle between
the natural and the unnatural is over, and I am beyond the depraved
influences of my former taste. My instincts are now, therefore, entirely
pure also. What is good for man to eat, that I shall have a natural
desire to eat: what is bad will be naturally repelled. How does the cow
distinguish between the wholesome and the poisonous herbs of the meadow?
And is man less than a cow, that he can not cultivate his instincts to
an equal point? Let me walk through the woods and I can tell you every
berry and root which God designed for food, though I know not its name,
and have never seen it before. I shall make use of my time, during our
sojourn here, to test, by my purified instinct, every substance, animal,
mineral, and vegetable, upon which the human race subsists, and to
create a catalogue of the True Food of Man!' ...
"Our lazy life during the hot weather had become a little monotonous.
The Arcadian plan had worked tolerably well, on the whole, for there was
very little for any one to do,--Mrs. Shelldrake and Perkins Brown
excepted. Our conversation, however, lacked spirit and variety. We were,
perhaps unconsciously, a little tired of hearing and assenting to the
same sentiments. But, one evening, about this time, Hollins struck upon
a variation, the consequences of which he little foresaw. We had been
reading one of Bulwer's works (the weather was too hot for Psychology),
and came upon this paragraph, or something like it:
"'Ah, Behind the Veil! We see the summer smile of the Earth,--enamelled
meadow and limpid stream,--but what hides she in her sunless heart?
Caverns of serpents, or grottoes of priceless gems? Youth, whose soul
sits on thy countenance, thyself wearing no mask, strive not to lift the
masks of others! Be content with what thou seest; and wait until Time
and Experience shall teach thee to find jealousy behind the sweet smile,
and hatred under the honeyed word!'
"This seemed to us a dark and bitter reflection; but one or another of
us recalled some illustration of human hypocrisy, and the evidences, by
the simple fact of repetition, gradually led to a division of
opinion,--Hollins, Shelldrake, and Miss Ringtop on the dark side, and
the rest of us on the bright. The last, however, contented herself with
quoting from her favorite poet Gamaliel J. Gawthrop:
"'I look beyond thy brow's concealment!
I see thy spirit's dark revealment!
Thy inner self betrayed I see:
Thy coward, craven, shivering ME'
"'We think we know one another,' exclaimed Hollins; 'but do we? We see
the faults of others, their weaknesses, their disagreeable qualities,
and we keep silent. How much we should gain, were candor as universal as
concealment! Then each one, seeing himself as others see him, would
truly know himself. How much misunderstanding might be avoided, how much
hidden shame be removed, hopeless because unspoken love made glad,
honest admiration cheer its object, uttered sympathy mitigate
misfortune,--in short, how much brighter and happier the world would
become, if each one expressed, everywhere and at all times, his true and
entire feeling! Why, even Evil would lose half its power!'
"There seemed to be so much practical wisdom in these views that we were
all dazzled and half-convinced at the start. So, when Hollins, turning
towards me, as he continued, exclaimed,--'Come, why should not this
candor be adopted in our Arcadia? Will any one--will you, Enos--commence
at once by telling me now--to my face--my principal faults?' I answered,
after a moment's reflection,--'You have a great deal of intellectual
arrogance, and you are, physically, very indolent.'
"He did not flinch from the self-invited test, though he looked a little
surprised.
"'Well put,' said he, 'though I do not say that you are entirely
correct. Now, what are my merits?'
"'You are clear-sighted,' I answered, 'an earnest seeker after truth,
and courageous in the avowal of your thoughts.'
"This restored the balance, and we soon began to confess our own
private faults and weaknesses. Though the confessions did not go very
deep,--no one betraying any thing we did not all know already,--yet they
were sufficient to strengthen Hollins in his new idea, and it was
unanimously resolved that Candor should thenceforth be the main charm of
our Arcadian life....
"The next day, Abel, who had resumed his researches after the True Food,
came home to supper with a healthier color than I had before seen on his
face.
"'Do you know,' said he, looking shyly at Hollins, 'that I begin to
think Beer must be a natural beverage? There was an auction in the
village to-day, as I passed through, and I stopped at a cake-stand to
get a glass of water, as it was very hot. There was no water,--only
beer: so I thought I would try a glass, simply as an experiment. Really,
the flavor was very agreeable. And it occurred to me, on the way home,
that all the elements contained in beer are vegetable. Besides,
fermentation is a natural process. I think the question has never been
properly tested before.'
"'But the alcohol!' exclaimed Hollins.
"I could not distinguish any, either by taste or smell. I know that
chemical analysis is said to show it; but may not the alcohol be
created, somehow, during the analysis?'
"'Abel,' said Hollins, in a fresh burst of candor, 'you will never be a
Reformer, until you possess some of the commonest elements of
knowledge.'
"The rest of us were much diverted: it was a pleasant relief to our
monotonous amiability.
"Abel, however, had a stubborn streak in his character. The next day he
sent Perkins Brown to Bridgeport for a dozen bottles of 'Beer.' Perkins,
either intentionally or by mistake, (I always suspected the former,)
brought pint-bottles of Scotch ale, which he placed in the coolest part
of the cellar. The evening happened to be exceedingly hot and sultry;
and, as we were all fanning ourselves and talking languidly, Abel
bethought him of his beer. In his thirst, he drank the contents of the
first bottle, almost at a single draught.
"'The effect of beer,' said he, 'depends, I think, on the commixture of
the nourishing principle of the grain with the cooling properties of the
water. Perhaps, hereafter, a liquid food of the same character may be
invented, which shall save us from mastication and all the diseases of
the teeth.'
"Hollins and Shelldrake, at his invitation, divided a bottle between
them, and he took a second. The potent beverage was not long in acting
on a brain so unaccustomed to its influence. He grew unusually talkative
and sentimental, in a few minutes.
"'Oh, sing, somebody!' he sighed in hoarse rapture: 'the night was made
for Song.'
"Miss Ringtop, nothing loath, immediately commenced, 'When stars are in
the quiet skies'; but scarcely had she finished the first verse before
Abel interrupted her.
"'Candor's the order of the day, isn't it?' he asked.
"'Yes!' 'Yes!' two or three answered.
"'Well, then,' said he, 'candidly, Pauline, you've got the darn'dest
squeaky voice'--
"Miss Ringtop gave a faint little scream of horror.
"'Oh, never mind!' he continued. 'We act according to impulse, don't we?
And I've the impulse to swear; and it's right. Let Nature have her way.
Listen! Damn, damn, damn, damn! I never knew it was so easy. Why,
there's a pleasure in it! Try it, Pauline! try it on me!'
"'Oh-ooh!' was all Miss Ringtop could utter.
"'Abel! Abel!' exclaimed Hollins, 'the beer has got into your head.'
"'No, it isn't Beer,--it's Candor!' said Abel. "It's your own proposal,
Hollins. Suppose it's evil to swear: isn't it better I should express
it, and be done with it, than keep it bottled up, to ferment in my mind?
Oh, you're a precious, consistent old humbug, _you_ are!'
"And therewith he jumped off the stoop, and went dancing awkwardly down
toward the water, singing in a most unmelodious voice, ''Tis home
where'er the heart is.' ...
"We had an unusually silent breakfast the next morning. Abel scarcely
spoke, which the others attributed to a natural feeling of shame, after
his display of the previous evening. Hollins and Shelldrake discussed
Temperance, with a special view to his edification, and Miss Ringtop
favored us with several quotations about 'the maddening bowl,'--but he
paid no attention to them....
"The forenoon was overcast, with frequent showers. Each one occupied his
or her room until dinner-time, when we met again with something of the
old geniality. There was an evident effort to restore our former flow of
good feeling. Abel's experience with the beer was freely discussed. He
insisted strongly that he had not been laboring under its effects, and
proposed a mutual test. He, Shelldrake, and Hollins were to drink it in
equal measures, and compare observations as to their physical
sensations. The others agreed,--quite willingly, I thought,--but I
refused....
"There was a sound of loud voices, as we approached the stoop. Hollins,
Shelldrake and his wife, and Abel Mallory were sitting together near the
door. Perkins Brown, as usual, was crouched on the lowest step, with one
leg over the other, and rubbing the top of his boot with a vigor which
betrayed to me some secret mirth. He looked up at me from under his
straw hat with the grin of a malicious Puck, glanced toward the group,
and made a curious gesture with his thumb. There were several empty pint
bottles on the stoop.
"'Now, are you sure you can bear the test?' we heard Hollins ask, as we
approached.