WHICH TREATS OF TWO STRANGE CHARACTERS I MET AT THE INDEPENDENT
TEMPERANCE HOTEL.
HAVING got rid of the major, I desired to change my clothing before
supper, and was shown to a snug little room up stairs by a damsel of
such exquisite beauty and bashfulness, that my whole soul seemed
melting within me, so quickly did her charms enslave me. In answer
to a question that hung trembling upon my lips, and which I had only
power to put in broken accents, for she passed me the candle, and as
she did so, I touched her hand, and saw her bosom heave gently, and
her eyes fill with liquid light, out of which came the language of
love, she said, with a smile and a lisp, that they called her
Bessie. Nature had been all bountiful in bestowing her gifts, for
surely, thought I, the nation can boast of no prettier Bessie. I
thought of the garden of Eden, of the palm groves of Campania, of
every rural beauty that just then beguiled my fancies. But in
neither of them did there seem happiness for me without Bessie for
the idol of my worship. I had, indeed, touched the hidden spring of
her sympathy, and as it gushed forth in unison with my own, I read
the flutterings of her heart in her crimsoning cheeks, and
contemplated the bounties of that Providence which forgets not the
humblest of its creatures. "Oh, sir," said she, "what will my father
say?" and she attempted a frown, and started back as I stole a kiss
of the cheek now suffused with blushes. Then with an arch toss of
the head, she turned her great black eyes rogueishly upon me, and
said in a half whisper that I must not attempt it again. But I could
not resist the magic of her glance, while, together with the
cherry-like freshness of her lips, and the raven blackness of those
glossy curls that hung so ravishingly over her fair blushing cheeks,
discovering a delicately arched brow, and enhancing the sweetness of
her oval face, carried me away captive, and made it seem as if
heaven had created our loves to flow on in one unhallowed stream of
joy. Her dapper figure was neatly set off with a dress of black
silk, buttoned close about the neck, and showing the symmetry of her
bust to great advantage; and over this she wore an apron of brown
silk, gimped at the edge, and her collar and wristbands were of
snowy white linen. "Heaven knows I would not harm thee, for thou art
even too fair; only a knave would rob one so innocent." And I held
her tremblingly by the hand, in the open door, as she attempted to
draw herself away, beseeching me with a bewitching glance to
"remember her youth." Bessie was the landlord's daughter; and though
she was scarce passed her seventeenth summer, had became so famous
for her beauty, as to number her admirers in every village of the
county; and many were the travelers that way who tarried to do
homage to her charms. I had just raised her warm hand to my lips,
hoping, after I had kissed it, to engage her in conversation, when
the door of a room on the opposite side of the passage opened, and a
queer little man, with a hump on his back, and otherwise deformed,
issued therefrom, and with a nervous step hurried down stairs,
muttering to himself like one lost in his own contemplations.
Bessie, with the suddenness of one surprised, vaulted in an opposite
direction, and, ere I had time to cast a glance after her,
disappeared down a back stair, leaving her image behind only to
haunt my fancy, and make me think there was no one else in this
world with whom I could be happy.
A few minutes, and having completed my toilet, I appeared at the
supper table, which the blushing Bessie had spread with all the
niceties of the season, and was waiting to do the honors. My
appetite was indeed keen, but the flashing of her eyes so troubled
my sensitive nature, that I entirely forgot the supper, and began to
inquire, half resolved to end my journey here, if mine host could
accommodate me for a month. Bessie heaved a sigh, saying it should
be done if she had to give up her own room. To which I replied that
nothing could induce me to give her trouble for my sake; that I
would take up my lodgings upon the corn shed, where, with the stars
and her charms to occupy my musings, I could be so happy.
When supper was over, Bessie ushered me into a large sitting room,
on the left of the hall, and bid me good night. A large, square
table, upon which was a copy of Godey's Lady's Book, the New England
Cultivator, the New Bedford Mercury, and sundry other papers of good
morals, stood in the center of the room. The walls were papered in
bright colors, and the floor was covered with an Uxbridge carpet,
the colors of which were green and red, and made fresh by the glare
of a spirit lamp that burned upon the table. A chart of the South
Shoal, a map of Massachusetts and Rhode Island, and sundry rude
drawings in crayon and water colors, hung suspended from the walls.
The air of quiet cheerfulness that pervaded the sitting room,
bespoke the care Bessie had bestowed upon it, and the active part
she took in the management of the household. And, too, there was a
piano standing open at one end of the room, for Bessie, in addition
to having studied Latin and algebra two years at the high school,
had taken music lessons of Monsieur Pensiné, and could play seven
tunes right off.
An aged, clerical-looking man, his visage lean and careworn, with
his newly-married bride, a simply clad country girl of eighteen, sat
at a window, looking out upon a little square, and every few minutes
exchanging caresses they imagined were seen by no one else in the
room. Indeed, when they were not caressing, they were whispering in
very affectionate proximity. Once or twice I overheard, "My
darling," and, "You know, my love," which curt but meaning sentences
are much in fashion with persons on a bridal tour, and who set out
with the belief that earth has no ill that can disturb the solace of
their perhaps weak love.
The little deformed man, of the nervous temperament, and whose well
formed head seemed to have been thrown by accident upon his
distended chest, paced, or rather oscillated up and down the room,
swinging his arms restlessly, now casting a glance of his keen gray
eye at me, then pausing at the farther end of the room to read the
notice of a lecture on Crabbe, inscribed upon a great red poster.
There was something in the lettering of the poster that displeased
him exceedingly, for, having scanned over it, he would turn away
with a quickened pace, and mutter some incoherent sentences no one
present could comprehend, but which his increasing nervousness
betold were expressive of anger. The thought of Bessie made me
impatient, and following the example of the little deformed man, I
also commenced pacing the room, but on the opposite side of the
table, meeting and exchanging glances with him in the center. The
maps upon the walls furnished me themes for contemplation in my
sallies; and I read and reread the exact latitude and longitude of
the South Shoal, as it appeared on the charts. Then I paused at a
front window, and peered out into the starlight night, and saw the
tree tops in a little square opposite, move gently to the breeze,
while my fancies recurred to the association of that home, at the
fireside of which I pictured my father and mother, sitting thinking
of me. At the opposite end of the room I read, for it was there
printed upon the red colored poster, that the celebrated Giles
Sheridan, (who was no less a person than the little deformed man who
paced the room so briskly,) would lecture on Crabbe, in the basement
of the "Orthodox Meeting House," at seven o'clock, on the following
evening.
It perplexed me not a little to know why this Giles Sheridan, this
queer little man, had selected for the subject of his lecture, a
person so little known in the rural districts of Massachusetts. Had
he consulted either the political or mechanical tastes of the
people, instead of their literary, the cause would not have been
involved in so deep a mystery; but this will be explained hereafter.
The clerical looking man had just kissed his young bride, and
muttered something about the joys of paradise, as I, for the ninth
time, paused to ponder over the curious announcement. And as I did
so, the little man, with that sensitiveness common to true genius,
looked up at me with an eye beaming with intelligence, while his
lips quivered, his fingers became restless, and he locked his hands
before him and behind him, in quick succession, then frisked his
straight hair back over his ears with his fingers, and gave out such
other signs of timidity as convinced me that he was a stranger in
the land, and would engage me in conversation merely to unburden his
thoughts. I have said true genius, in speaking of this queer little
man, for indeed, if strange nature had so disfigured his person as
to make it unsightly, she had more than compensated him with the
gifts of a brilliant mind. "Like myself, sir, you are a traveler
this way?" he spoke, with a voice clear and musical, and with just
enough of a refined brogue to discover the land of his nativity, or
to give melody to his conversation. "You will pardon me, sir; but I
saw you evinced an interest in the notice of my lecture. Ah! sir;
even a look of encouragement cheers and fortifies this misgiving
heart of mine. Few, sir, very few, think of me, seeing that there is
nothing about me pleasing to the eye." And as he said this, he
sighed, frisked his left hand across his forehead, and shook his
head. I saw he was troubled with that lack of confidence in himself,
so common to men of his kind; he was also too timid for one thrown
upon a strange land with only genius to aid him in struggling
against adversity. On discovering to him who I was, and that I had
written a Life and Times of Captain Seth Brewster, which my
publisher, and several independent critics he kept in his employ,
had praised into an unprecedented sale, though it was indeed the
veriest rubbish, his pent up enthusiasm gushed forth in a rhapsody
of joy. I told him, too, that two sonnets which I had written, over
the signature of Mary, had been published in the "New Bedford
Mercury," the editor of which very excellent paper said they were
charming, though he never paid me a penny for them. It may interest
all aspiring female poets to know that these little attempts at
verse found their way into the "Home Journal," and were highly
praised by it, as is everything written by Marys of sixteen.
"Men of letters are brothers!" said the little, deformed man,
grasping tightly my hand. "They should bind their sympathies in
eternal friendship. You have no other word for it! The world never
thinks of them until they are dead; ought they not then to be
brothers to one another while they live?" He now placed two chairs,
frisked about like one half crazed, expressed his joy at meeting one
who had aspirations in common with him, said he wished the meek old
lover in the corner had his young bride in paradise, and bid me be
seated and join him in a talk over the past and present of letters.
I replied by saying I was more impatient to know what had brought
him to Barnstable with so strange a subject for his lecture. "That
is the point, and I will tell you; for a stranger is never to blame
for doing wrong when he thinks he is doing right!" said he, with
great earnestness of manner. And he drew his chair closer, and
tapped me impressively on the arm with the fore finger of his right
hand. "And you read my name, Giles Sheridan, on the pink poster. I
am well known in some parts of the world, and not so well known in
others. Thanks to a merciful God, I am not the worst man in the
world, and yet I am deformed; and as the world praises most the
beauty that adorns the surface, so few think of me, care for me, or
say, 'Giles Sheridan, there is meat and wine at my house, where you
will be welcome.' Thinking even a cripple might find favor and
fortune in the country, I came over not long since, and sought the
city of Boston, it being, as many had told me, the great center of
America's learning and refinement. There I gave a lecture or two;
but being a stranger, and deformed withal, the reception I met was
cold and discouraging. Against such men as Lowell, and Curtis, men
born on the soil, and of such goodly person as made them the pets of
the petticoats and pantaletts, I could not hope to succeed. In
truth, I gave up, sick at heart, clean only in pocket, and with the
alternative of a garret and a crust staring me in the face, in a
land of plenty. At length a friendly hand came to my succor, and
through it I was invited by a committee, composed of the tavern
keeper, the schoolmaster, the Unitarian clergyman, and the milkman,
(who had a relish for letters,) to deliver three lectures in this
town, for which they promised to pay me five dollars a lecture, and
my victuals. Yes, sir, my victuals. Five dollars and victuals for a
learned lecture was something for a man whose pocket stood much in
need of replenishing. I came, disposed to do to the best of my
ability; and the victuals I have had, and they are good. I chose
Crabbe for the subject of my lecture, in deference to my own taste,
and also because I was led to believe, judging from analogy, that
the knowledge of men of letters which ruled in Boston, must also
rule in the villages and towns round about. It was that which led me
to announce Crabbe, which announcement has much disturbed the town.
No one seems to know who or what manner of man he was, and many
curious questions have been put to me concerning his origin, the
things he did while living, the manner of his death, and what was
said of him afterwards. Several inquisitive old ladies, who called
to see me to-day, put many questions concerning his morals and
religion. Not entertaining a doubt of his loving all religion that
was founded in truth and reason, I sent them away fully satisfied
that Mr. Crabbe was a man of good standing in the church. You will
remember sir, it was Crabbe who said, 'There sits he upright in his
seat secure, As one whose conscience is correct and pure.'"
Here he continued to repeat several of the most beautiful lines
written by that poet, and which are familiar to his readers.
"An unhappy sort of man, clothed in the garb of a mechanic, and
calling himself a nonresistant, has several times called to inquire
if Mr. Crabbe, of whom I proposed to speak, was an advocate of
physical resistance. Not being able to satisfy him upon this point,
he has sought in divers ways to pick a quarrel with me." Just at
this moment the door opened, and there entered to the evident
annoyance of the little deformed man, one Ephraim Flagg, a clicker
of shoes, and an ex-stagedriver. He was lean and low of figure, had
a long bony face, and a gloomy expression of countenance, and a
straight, narrow forehead, and coarse, silvery hair, that stood
erect upon his head. "I have come again, you see; but don't let your
choler get up, my little stranger. Peace and little men ought to
keep each other company," spoke the man, with a strong, nasal twang,
after having adjusted his thumbs in the arm holes of his waistcoat,
and passed twice or thrice up and down the, room, with a tantalizing
air. Ephraim Flagg had given up driving the stage between New London
and Norwich, and had recently taken to books, and so studied certain
exact and inexact sciences, as they were called, and neglected all
business, that it was feared he would become a town tax. In addition
to this he had made himself famous for quarreling with all those who
differed with him on the peculiarities of his social problem.
"Sir!" replied the lecturer, "as you chose neither to be convinced,
nor to accept reason for argument, perhaps we had as well end this
bantering!"
"Oh! there you are," interrupted the nonresistant, "you must not
allow your ill temper to rise. You can't get (no you can't) the
better of your adversary that way. If a man kicks you, and if you
want to show yourself his superior, turn right round and thank him.
Depend upon it, there is nothing equal to it! It so unhinges the
man. Now, as to this Mr. Crabbe, (you forgot, in our controversy
yesterday, to say where he was born,) being a gentleman, and in
favor of using physical force-"
"Seeing that I am engaged, Mr. Flagg," interrupted Giles Sheridan,
"perhaps you will excuse me any further controversy on the peculiar
merits of Crabbe's combativeness."
"But there was one point not made quite clear to me, and I came
back, not to make you angry, for men who give lectures should have
good tempers, but to inquire if this Mr. Crabbe was ever kocked
down; and if he was, how and in what manner he returned the
kindness?" To this question, Giles Sheridan was not inclined to
vouchsafe an answer. The nonresistant then said, the principles he
had been trying to defend, were being illustrated. "I am an enemy to
physical force; but I have gained a victory over you! You won't deny
that, I take it?" continued the nonresistant, taking a seat
uninvited; and, having placed his feet upon the table, near Giles
Sheridan, who was scarce able to restrain his feelings at the want
of good breeding therein displayed, threw his hat upon the floor,
and said he would wager four dollars and thirty cents, which was all
the money he possessed, that he could lecture on the principles of
nonresistance, and draw an audience greater by ten per cent. than
would come to hear about Mr. Crabbe. "You don't know whether your
man had a liking for tobacco and whiskey?" he parenthesized. A look
of contempt flashed from Giles Sheridan's eye, as he twirled his
fingers, and curtly replied, "I wish, for your own sake, sir, that
your tongue did not betray the error of the doctrine you have set
up-"
"Oh! there you are!" the nonresistant quickly replied, "establishing
by your acts what you have not courage to acknowledge with your
lips." Wounded in his feelings, the little deformed man turned away,
and commenced inquiring what I thought about several learned, but
very heavy reviews that had recently appeared in Putnam's Magazine,
a monthly so sensitive of its character for weighty logic, that it
never gave ordinary readers anything they could digest. I confessed
I was not sufficiently qualified to speak on the subject; to do
which, required that a man be a member of that mutual admiration
society, beyond whose delicate fingers it seldom circulated. The
nonresistant evidently saw my embarrassment, and saying he had but
one more question to ask respecting the man Crabbe, continued in the
following manner, while Giles Sheridan remained doggedly silent.
"Now, look a here! if your Mr. Crabbe had a bin a farmer who had
grown a nice field of wheat, which his neighbor's horse, being
breachy, had got into, wanting to get the best of that neighbor,
would he have killed the horse, or would he have gone to that
neighbor and said, 'Neighbor, thy horse is in my wheat, pray come
and take him out, that I may not bear thee malice?'" This question,
and the quaint manner in which it was put, so conciliated the little
deformed man that he could not resist a smile. "I have you there!"
exclaimed the nonresistant with a toss of his head.
"It occurs to me that Crabbe never had a farm, hence it would not
become me to speak for him. For myself, I had driven the horse out
with my dog," replied the other.
"There you are wrong," retorted the nonresistant, "for the dog would
have destroyed the wheat, and so carried the devil to the heart of
the farmer, that he had gone to law, if, indeed, he had not killed
the horse, and by so doing lost all power over his adversary.
Whereas, if he had spoken gently of the conduct of the horse, the
owner would have been sorely grieved, and set about making good the
damage, according to the promptings of his own heart."
The landlord hearing the nonresistant's voice, entered the room and
ordered him to begone about his business, and seek some better
employment than that of hectoring every traveler who chanced to put
up at his inn. But the nonresistant replied that he was not to be
insulted by a landlord who professed to keep a temperance house, and
sold liquid death daily on the sly; nor would he leave the inn, in
which he had a common right, until his own convenience dictated.
This so enraged the landlord, that although he was a little man, he
seized the nonresistant by the collar, and would have forced him to
leave the premises but that the other proved too strong for him.
Indeed the nonresistant, notwithstanding his principles, had well
nigh divested the landlord of his coat, and done serious damage to
his face, and was only ejected from the house by the timely
assistance of the hostler and the bar tender.