Gentle Octavia, Let your best love draw
to that point, which seeks But to preserve it.
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.
We shall not say it was an accident that brought Paul and Eve side by
side, and a little separated from the others; for a secret sympathy
had certainly exercised its influence over both, and probably
contributed as much as any thing else towards bringing about the
circumstance. Although the Wigwam stood in the centre of the village,
its grounds covered several acres, and were intersected with winding
walks, and ornamented with shrubbery, in the well-known English
style, improvements also of John Effingham; for, while the climate
and forests of America offer so many inducements to encourage
landscape gardening, it is the branch of art that, of all the other
ornamental arts, is perhaps the least known in this country. It is
true, time had not yet brought the labours of the projector to
perfection, in this instance; but enough had been done to afford very
extensive, varied, and pleasing walks. The grounds were broken, and
John Effingham had turned the irregularities to good account, by
planting and leading paths among them, to the great amusement of the
lookers-on, however, who, like true disciples of the Manhattanese
economy, had already begun to calculate the cost of what they termed
grading the lawns, it being with them as much a matter of course to
bring pleasure grounds down to a mathematical surface, as to bring a
rail-road route down to the proper level.
Through these paths, and among the irregularities, groves, and
shrubberies, just mentioned, the party began to stroll; one group
taking a direction eastward, another south, and a third westward, in
a way soon to break them up into five or six different divisions.
These several portions of the company ere long got to move in
opposite directions, by taking the various paths, and while they
frequently met, they did not often re-unite. As has been already
intimated, Eve and Paul were alone, for the first time in their
lives, under circumstances that admitted of an uninterrupted
confidential conversation. Instead of profiting immediately, however,
by this unusual occurrence, as many of our readers may anticipate,
the young man continued the discourse, in which the whole party had
been engaged when they entered the gate that communicated with the
street.
"I know not whether you felt the same embarrassment as myself, to-
day, Miss Effingham," he said, "when the orator was dilating on the
glories of the republic, and on the high honours that accompany the
American name. Certainly, though a pretty extensive traveller, I have
never yet been able to discover that it is any advantage abroad to be
one of the 'fourteen millions of freemen.'"
"Are we to attribute the mystery that so long hung over your birth-
place, to this fact," Eve asked, a little pointedly.
"If I have made any seeming mystery, as to the place of my birth, it
has been involuntary on my part, Miss Effingham, so far as you, at
least, have been concerned. I may not have thought myself authorized
to introduce my own history into our little discussions, but I am not
conscious of aiming at any unusual concealments. At Vienna, and in
Switzerland, we met as travellers; and now that you appear disposed
to accuse me of concealment, I may retort, and say that, neither you
nor your father ever expressly stated in my presence that you were
Americans."
"Was that necessary, Mr. Powis?"
"Perhaps not; and I am wrong to draw a comparison between my own
insignificance, and the éclat that attended you and your movements."
"Nay," interrupted Eve, "do not misconceive me. My father felt an
interest in you, quite naturally, after what had occurred on the lake
of Lucerne, and I believe he was desirous of making you out a
countryman,--a pleasure that he has at length received."
"To own the truth, I was never quite certain, until my last visit to
England, on which side of the Atlantic I was actually born, and to
this uncertainty, perhaps, may be attributed some of that
cosmopolitism to which I made so many high pretensions in our late
passage."
"Not know where you were born!" exclaimed Eve, with an involuntary
haste, that she immediately repented.
"This, no doubt, sounds odd to you, Miss Effingham, who have always
been the pride and solace of a most affectionate father, but it has
never been my good fortune to know either parent. My mother, who was
the sister of Ducie's mother, died at my birth, and the loss of my
father even preceded hers. I may be said to have been born an
orphan."
Eve, for the first time in her life, had taken his arm, and the young
man felt the gentle pressure of her little hand, as she permitted
this expression of sympathy to escape her, at a moment she found so
intensely interesting to herself.
"It was, indeed, a misfortune, Mr. Powis, and I fear you were put
into the navy through the want of those who would feel a natural
concern in your welfare."
"The navy was my own choice; partly, I think, from a certain love of
adventure, and quite as much, perhaps, with a wish to settle the
question of my birth-place, practically at least, by enlisting in the
service of the one that I first knew, and certainly best loved."
"But of that birth-place, I understand there is now no doubt?" said
Eve, with more interest than she was herself conscious of betraying.
"None whatever; I am a native of Philadelphia; that point was
conclusively settled in my late visit to my aunt, Lady Dunluce, who
was present at my birth."
"Is Lady Dunluce also an American?"
"She is; never having quitted the country until after her marriage to
Colonel Ducie. She was a younger sister of my mother's, and,
notwithstanding some jealousies and a little coldness that I trust
have now disappeared, I am of opinion she loved her; though one can
hardly answer for the durability of the family ties in a country
where the institutions and habits are as artificial as in England."
"Do you think there is less family affection, then, in England than
in America?"
"I will not exactly say as much, though I am of opinion that neither
country is remarkable in that way. In England, among the higher
classes, it is impossible that the feelings should not be weakened by
so many adverse interests. When a brother knows that nothing stands
between himself and rank and wealth, but the claims of one who was
born a twelvemonth earlier than himself, he gets to feel more like a
rival than a kinsman, and the temptation to envy or dislike, or even
hatred, sometimes becomes stronger than the duty to love."
"And yet the English, themselves, say that the services rendered by
the elder to the younger brother, and the gratitude of the younger to
the elder, are so many additional ties."
"It would be contrary to all the known laws of feeling, and all
experience, if this were so. The younger applies to the elder for aid
in preference to a stranger, because he thinks he has a claim; and
what man who fancies he has a claim, is disposed to believe justice
is fully done him; or who that is required to discharge a duty,
imagines he has not done more than could be properly asked?"
"I fear your opinion of men is none of the best, Mr. Powis!"
"There may be exceptions, but such I believe to be the common fate of
humanity. The moment a duty is created, a disposition to think it
easily discharged follows; and of all sentiments, that of a continued
and exacting gratitude is the most oppressive. I fear more brothers
are aided, through family pride, than through natural affection."
"What, then, loosens the tie among ourselves, where no law of
primogeniture exists?"
"That which loosens every thing. A love of change that has grown up
with the migratory habits of the people; and which, perhaps, is, in
some measure, fostered by the institutions. Here is Mr. Bragg to
confirm what I say, and we may hear his sentiments on this subject."
As Aristabulus, with whom walked Mr. Dodge, just at that moment came
out of the shrubbery, and took the same direction with themselves,
Powis put the question, as one addresses an acquaintance in a room.
"Rotation in feelings, sir," returned Mr. Bragg, "is human nature, as
rotation in office is natural justice. Some of our people are of
opinion that it might be useful could the whole of society be made
periodically to change places, in order that every one might know how
his neighbour lives."
"You are, then, an Agrarian, Mr. Bragg?"
"As far from it as possible; nor do I believe you will find such an
animal in this county. Where property is concerned, we are a people
that never let go, as long as we can hold on, sir; but, beyond this
we like lively changes. Now, Miss Effingham, every body thinks
frequent changes of religious instructors in particular, necessary.
There can be no vital piety without, keeping the flame alive with
excitement."
"I confess, sir, that my own reasoning would lead to a directly
contrary conclusion, and that there can be no vital piety, as you
term it, _with_ excitement."
Mr. Bragg looked at Mr. Dodge, and Mr. Dodge looked at Mr. Bragg.
Then each shrugged his shoulders, and the former continued the
discourse.
"That may be the case in France, Miss Effingham," he said, "but, in
America, we look to excitement as the great purifier. We should as
soon expect the air in the bottom of a well to be elastic, as that
the moral atmosphere shall be clear and salutary, without the breezes
of excitement. For my part, Mr. Dodge, I think no man should be a
judge, in the same court, more than ten years at a time, and a priest
gets to be rather common-place and flat after five. There are men
that may hold out a little longer, I acknowledge; but to keep real,
vital, soul-saving regeneration stirring, a change should take place
as often as once in five years, in a parish; that is my opinion, at
least."
"But, sir," rejoined Eve, "as the laws of religion are immutable, the
modes by which it is known universal, and the promises, mediation,
and obligations are every where the same, I do not see what you
propose to gain by so many changes."
"Why, Miss Effingham, we change the dishes at table, and no family of
my acquaintance, more than this of your honourable father's; and I am
surprised to find you opposed to the system."
"Our religion, sir," answered Eve, gravely, "is a duty, and rests on
revelation and obedience; while our diet may, very innocently, be a
matter of mere taste, even of caprice, if you will."
"Well, I confess I see no great difference, the main object in this
life being to stir people up, and to go ahead. I presume you know,
Miss Eve, that many people think that we ought to change our own
parson, if we expect a blessing on the congregation."
"I should sooner expect a curse would follow an act of so much
heartlessness, sir. Our clergyman has been with us since his entrance
into the duties of his holy office; and it will be difficult to
suppose that the Divine favour would follow the commission of so
selfish and capricious a step, with a motive no better than the
desire for novelty."
"You quite mistake the object, Miss Eve, which is to stir the people
up; a hopeless thing, I fear, so long as they always sit under the
same preaching."
"I have been taught to believe that piety is increased, Mr. Bragg, by
the aid of the Holy Spirit's sustaining and supporting us in our good
desires; and I cannot persuade myself that the Deity finds it
necessary to save a soul, by the means of any of those human agencies
by which men sack towns, turn an election, or incite a mob. I hear
that extraordinary scenes are witnessed in this country, in some of
the other sects; but I trust never to see the day, when the
apostolic, reverend, and sober church, in which I have been nurtured,
shall attempt to advance the workings of that Divine power, by a
profane, human hurrah."
All this was Greek to Messrs. Dodge and Bragg, who, in furthering
their objects, were so accustomed to "stirring people up," that they
had quite forgotten that the more a man was in "an excitement," the
less he had to do with reason. The exaggerated religious sects, which
first peopled America, have had a strong influence in transmitting to
their posterity false notions on such subjects; for while the old
world is accustomed to see Christianity used as an ally of
government, and perverted from its one great end to be the instrument
of ambition, cupidity, and selfishness, the new world has been fated
to witness the reaction of such abuses, and to run into nearly as
many errors in the opposite extreme. The two persons just mentioned,
had been educated in the provincial school of religious notions, that
is so much in favour, in a portion of this country; and they were
striking examples of the truth of the adage, that "what is bred in
the bone will be seen in the flesh," for their common character,
common in this particular at least, was a queer mixture of the most
narrow superstitions and prejudices, that existed under the garb of
religious training, and of unjustifiable frauds, meannesses, and even
vices. Mr. Bragg was a better man than Mr. Dodge, for he had more
self-reliance, and was more manly; but, on the score of religion, he
had the same contradictory excesses, and there was a common point, in
the way of vulgar vice, towards which each tended, simply for the
want of breeding and tastes, as infallibly as the needle points to
the pole. Cards were often introduced in Mr. Effingham's drawing-
room, and there was one apartment expressly devoted to a billiard-
table; and many was the secret fling, and biting gibe, that these
pious devotees passed between themselves, on the subject of so
flagrant an instance of immorality, in a family of so high moral
pretensions; the two worthies not unfrequently concluding their
comments by repairing to some secret room in a tavern, where, after
carefully locking the door, and drawing the curtains, they would
order brandy, and pass a refreshing hour in endeavouring to relieve
each other of the labour of carrying their odd sixpences, by means of
little shoemaker's loo.
On the present occasion, however, the earnestness of Eve produced a
pacifying effect on their consciences, for, as our heroine never
raised her sweet voice above the tones of a gentlewoman, its very
mildness and softness gave force to her expressions. Had John
Effingham uttered the sentiments to which they had just listened it
is probable Mr. Bragg would have attempted an answer; but, under the
circumstances, he preferred making his bow, and diverging into the
first path that offered, followed by his companion. Eve and Paul
continued their circuit of the grounds, as if no interruption had
taken place.
"This disposition to change is getting to be universal in the
country," remarked the latter, as soon as Aristabulus and his friend
had left them, "and I consider it one of the worst signs of the
times; more especially since it has become so common to connect it
with what it is the fashion to call excitement."
"To return to the subject which these gentlemen interrupted," said
Eve, "that of the family ties; I have always heard England quoted as
one of the strongest instances of a nation in which this tie is
slight, beyond its aristocratical influence; and I should be sorry to
suppose that we are following in the footsteps of our good-mother, in
this respect at least."
"Has Mademoiselle Viefville never made any remark on this subject?"
"Mademoiselle Viefville, though observant, is discreet. That she
believes the standard of the affections as high in this as in her own
country, I do not think; for, like most Europeans, she believes the
Americans to be a passionless people, who are more bound up in the
interests of gain, than in any other of the concerns of life."
"She does not know us!" said Paul so earnestly as to cause Eve to
start at the deep energy with which he spoke. "The passions lie as
deep, and run in currents as strong here, as in any other part of the
world, though, there not being as many factitious causes to dam them,
they less seldom break through the bounds of propriety."
For near a minute the two paced the walk in silence, and Eve began to
wish that some one of the party would again join them, that a
conversation which she felt was getting to be awkward, might be
interrupted. But no one crossed their path again, and without
rudeness, or affectation, she saw no means of effecting her object.
Paul was too much occupied with his own feelings to observe his
companion's embarrassment, and, after the short pause mentioned, he
naturally pursued the subject, though in a less emphatic manner than
before.
"It was an old, and a favourite theory, with the Europeans," he said,
with a sort of bitter irony, "that all the animals of this hemisphere
have less gifted natures than those of the other; nor is it a theory
of which they are yet entirely rid. The Indian was supposed to be
passionless, because he had self-command; and what in the European
would be thought exhibiting the feelings of a noble nature, in him
has been represented as ferocity and revenge; Miss Effingham, you and
I have seen Europe, have stood in the presence of its wisest, its
noblest and its best; and what have they to boast beyond the
immediate results of their factitious and laboured political systems,
that is denied to the American--or rather would be denied to the
American, had the latter the manliness and mental independence, to be
equal to his fortunes?"
"Which, you think he is not."
"How can a people be even independent that imports its thoughts, as
it does its wares,--that has not the spirit to invent even its own
prejudices?"
"Something should be allowed to habit, and to the influence of time.
England, herself, probably has inherited some of her false notions,
from the Saxons and Normans."
"That is not only possible, but probable; but England, in thinking of
Russia, France, Turkey, or Egypt, when induced to think wrong, yields
to an English, and not to an American interest. Her errors are at
least requited, in a degree, by serving her own ends, whereas ours
are made, too often, to oppose our most obvious interests. We are
never independent unless when stimulated by some strong and pressing
moneyed concern, and not often then beyond the plainest of its
effects.--Here is one, apparently, who does not belong to our party."
Paul interrupted himself, in consequence of their meeting a stranger
in the walk, who moved with the indecision of one uncertain whether
to advance or to recede. Rockets frequently fell into the grounds,
and there had been one or two inroads of boys, which had been
tolerated on account of the occasion; but this intruder was a man in
the decline of life, of the condition of a warm tradesman seemingly,
and he clearly had no connection with sky-rockets, as his eyes were
turned inquiringly on the persons of those who passed him, from time
to time, none of whom had he stopped, however, until he now placed
himself before Paul and Eve, in a way to denote a desire to speak.
"The young people are making a merry night of it," he said, keeping a
hand in each coat-pocket, while he unceremoniously occupied the
centre of the narrow walk, as if determined to compel a parley.
Although sufficiently acquainted with the unceremonious habits of the
people of the country to feel no surprise at this intrusion, Paul was
vexed at having his tête à tête with Eve so rudely broken; and he
answered with more of the hauteur of the quarterdeck than he might
otherwise have done, by saying coldly--
"Perhaps, sir, it is your wish to see Mr. Effingham--or--" hesitating
an instant, as he scanned the stranger's appearance--"some of his
people. The first will soon pass this spot, and you will find most of
the latter on the lawn, watching the rockets."
The man regarded Paul a moment, and then he removed his hat
respectfully.
"Please, sir, can you inform me if a gentleman called Captain Truck--
one that sails the packets between New-York and England, is staying
at the Wigwam at present."
Paul told him that the captain was walking with Mr. Effingham, and
that the next pair that approached would be they. The stranger fell
back, keeping his hat respectfully in his hand, and the two passed.
"That man has been an English servant, but has been a little spoiled
by the reaction of an excessive liberty to do as he pleases. The
'please, sir,' and the attitude can hardly be mistaken, while the
_nonchalance_ of his manner '_à nous aborder_' sufficiently betrays
the second edition of his education."
"I am curious to know what this person can want with our excellent
captain--it can scarcely be one of the Montauk's crew!"
"I will answer for it, that the fellow has not enough seamanship
about him to whip a rope," said Paul, laughing; "for if there be two
temporal pursuits that have less affinity than any two others, they
are those of the pantry and the tar-bucket. I think it will be seen
that this man has been an English servant, and he has probably been a
passenger on board some ship commanded by our honest old friend."
Eve and Paul now turned, and they met Mr. Effingham and the captain
just as the two latter reached the spot where the stranger still
stood.
"This is Captain Truck, the gentleman for whom you inquired," said
Paul.
The stranger looked hard at the captain, and the captain looked hard
at the stranger, the obscurity rendering a pretty close scrutiny
necessary, to enable either to distinguish features. The examination
seemed to be mutually unsatisfactory, for each retired a little, like
a man who had not found a face that he knew.
"There must be two Captain Trucks, then, in the trade," said the
stranger; "this is not the gentleman I used to know."
"I think you are as right in the latter part of your remark, friend,
as you are wrong in the first," returned the captain. "Know you, I do
not, and yet there are no more two Captain Trucks in the English
trade, than there are two Miss Eve Effinghams, or two Mrs. Hawkers in
the universe. I am John Truck, and no other man of that name ever
sailed a ship between New York and England, in my day, at least."
"Did you ever command the Dawn, sir?"
"The Dawn! That I did; and the Regulus, and the Manhattan, and the
Wilful Girl, and the Deborah-Angelina, and the Sukey and Katy, which,
my dear young lady, I may say, was my first love. She was only a
fore-and-after, carrying no standing topsail, even, and we named her
after two of the river girls, who were flyers, in their way; at
least, I thought so then; though a man by sailing a packet comes to
alter his notions about men and things, or, for that matter, about
women and things, too. I got into a category, in that schooner, that
I never expect to see equalled; for I was driven ashore to windward
in her, which is gibberish to you, my dear young lady, but which Mr.
Powis will very well understand, though he may not be able to explain
it."
"I certainly know what you mean," said Paul, "though I confess I am
in a category, as well as the schooner, so far as knowing how it
could have happened."
"The Sukey and Katy ran away with me, that's the upshot of it. Since
that time I have never consented to command a vessel that was called
after _two_ of our river young women, for I do believe that one of
them is as much as a common mariner can manage. You see, Mr.
Effingham, we were running along a weather-shore, as close in as we
could get, to be in the eddy, when a squall struck her a-beam, and
she luffed right on to the beach. No helping it. Helm hard up, peak
down, head sheets to windward, and main sheet flying, but it was all
too late; away she went plump ashore to windward. But for that
accident, I think I might have married."
"And what connexion could you find between matrimony and this
accident, captain?" demanded the laughing Eve.
"There was an admonition in it, my dear young lady, that I thought
was not to be disregarded. I tried the Wilful Girl next, and she was
thrown on her beam-ends with me; after which I renounced all female
names, and took to the Egyptian."
"The Egyptian!"
"Certainly, Regulus, who was a great snake-killer, they tell me, in
that part of the world. But I never saw my way quite clear as
bachelor, until I got the Dawn. Did you know that ship, friend?"
"I believe, sir, I made two passages in her while you commanded her."
"Nothing more likely; we carried lots of your countrymen, though
mostly forward of the gangways. I commanded the Dawn more than twenty
years ago."
"It is all of that time since I crossed with you, sir; you may
remember that we fell in with a wreck, ten days after we sailed, and
took off her crew and two passengers. Three or four of the latter had
died with their sufferings, and several of the people."
"All this seems but as yesterday! The wreck was a Charleston ship
that had started a butt."
"Yes, sir--yes, sir--that is just it--she had started, _but_ could
not get in. That is just what they said at the time. I am David,
sir--I should think you _cannot_ have forgotten David."
The honest captain was very willing to gratify the other's harmless
self-importance, though, to tell the truth, he retained no more
personal knowledge of the David of the Dawn, than he had of David,
King of the Jews.
"Oh, David!" he cried, cordially--"are _you_ David? Well, I did not
expect to see you again in this world, though I never doubted where
we should be, hereafter I hope you are very well, David; what sort of
weather have you made of it since we parted? If I recollect aright,
you worked your passage;--never at sea before."
"I beg your pardon, sir; I never was at sea before the _first_ time,
it is true; but I did not belong to the crew. I was a passenger."
"I remember, now, you were in the steerage," returned the captain,
who saw daylight ahead.
"Not at all, sir, but in the cabin."
"Cabin!" echoed the captain, who perceived none of the requisites of
a cabin-passenger in the other--"Oh! I understand, in the pantry?"
"Exactly so, sir. You may remember my master--he had the left-hand
state-room to himself, and I slept next to the scuttle-butt. You
recollect master, sir?"
"Out of doubt, and a very good fellow he was. I hope you live with
him still?"
"Lord bless you, sir, he is dead!"
"Oh! I recollect hearing of it, at the time. Well, David. I hope if
ever we cross again, we shall be ship-mates once more. We were
beginners, then, but we have ships worth living in, now.--Good
night."
"Do you remember Dowse, sir, that we got from the wreck?" continued
the other, unwilling to give up his gossip so soon. "He was a dark
man, that had had the small-pox badly. I think, sir, you will
recollect _him_, for he was a hard man in other particulars, besides
his countenance."
"Somewhat flinty about the soul; I remember the man well; and so,
David, good night; you will come and see me, if you are ever in town.
Good night, David."
David was now compelled to leave the place, for Captain Truck, who
perceived that the whole party was getting together again, in
consequence of the halt, felt the propriety of dismissing his
visiter, of whom, his master, and Dowse, he retained just as much
recollection as one retains of a common stage-coach companion after
twenty years. The appearance of Mr. Howel, who just at that moment
approached them, aided the manoeuvre, and, in a few minutes the
different groups were again in motion, though some slight changes had
taken place in the distribution of the parties.