I share in Ruskin's distrust of the "pathetic fallacy"; and I have no
intention of implying that the waves had any sentiments whatever in
connection with Robert van Rensselaer. It was purely an accident that
they kept him in their grasp, and beat him against the cliff all day;
that one by one they rushed up to seize him, and spent all their force
in hurling him, in pounding him, until he had lost all semblance of a
man; it was not until night, and when the wind died out, that they
washed him on down the shore, and sought out a little cove and bore him
to the sandy edge.
It was a still spot; there was no voice but the waves' voice, and all
night long they called to each other on the beach, and tossed the body
back and forth in the silver moonlight. When the morning broke it was
swollen and purple, and it lay half hidden in the sand.
The sun came up and still it was there, unheeded save by innumerable
small creatures that walked awkwardly, bearing long weapons in the air.
One of them soon climbed upon the face and fastened its claws in the
lips; and others came quickly, for it was choice prey. Was it not true
that for twoscore years and more the earth had been searched for things
rare and precious enough to help make up the body of Robert van
Rensselaer? Think of the hogs-heads of rare wines that had been poured
into it! Of the boxes of priceless cigars that had flavored it! Of the
terrapin, and the venison, and the ducks--the strangely spiced
sauces--the infinity of sweetmeats--the pink satin menus, full of
elegant French names! Had not thousands of men labored daily to fetch
and prepare these things, to serve them upon crystal and silver before
that precious body--and to clothe it and to house it, and to smooth all
its paths through the world? And now it lay at last upon the sand, to
be devoured by a swarm of hungry crabs!
So another day came, and in the afternoon two fishing boats rowed by,
and one of the fishermen espied the body. He landed with his companion,
shouting to the other boat that there must have been a wreck, and to go
on up the shore and look for it.
Then he went toward the body, or what there was of it. The clothing was
still intact, and so he searched in the pockets, pulling out first of
all a marvellous gold watch that had cost eighteen hundred dollars in
Geneva. That interested him, of course, and he went on in haste, and
found a wallet, with plenty of money, and with some cards in it. They
were blurred, but one could still make out the name on them, and the
fisherman gave a cry, "Good God! this says Robert van Rensselaer!"
"Who's Robert van Rensselaer?" demanded the other, wonderingly.
"You never heard of him? Why, he's the richest man in the country."
The speaker was gazing down, awe-stricken, at the body; but his
companion merely moved away a little. "He smells like the devil,
anyhow," said he.