 | CHAPTER IV. The headsman, or, The Abbaye des Vignerons |  |
4. CHAPTER IV.
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again, to make up nine.
Macbeth.
Baffling and light airs kept the Winkelried a
long time nearly stationary, and it was only by
paying the greatest attention to trimming the sails,
and to all the little minutiæ of the waterman's art,
of the crescent, as the sun touched the hazy line
of the Jura. Here the wind failed entirely, the
surface of the lake becoming as glassy and smooth
as a mirror, and further motion, for the time at
least, was quite out of the question. The crew,
perceiving the hopelessness of their exertions, and
fatigued with the previous toil, threw themselves
among the boxes and bales, and endeavored to
catch a little sleep, in anticipation of the north
breeze, which, at this season of the year, usually
blew from the shores of Vaud within an hour or
two of the disappearance of the sun.
The deck of the bark was now left to the undisputed
possession of her passengers. The day
had latterly been sultry, for the season, the even
water having cast back the hot rays in fierce reflection,
and, as evening drew on, a refreshing
coolness came to relieve the densely packed and
scorching travellers. The effect of such a change
was like that which would have been observed
among a flock of heavily fleeced sheep, which,
after gasping for breath beneath trees and hedges,
during the time of the sun's power, are seen scattering
over their pastures to feed, or to play their
antics, as a grateful shade succeeds to cool their
panting sides.
Baptiste, as is but too apt to be the case with
men possessed of brief authority, during the day
had mercilessly played the tyrant with all the passengers
that were beneath the privileged degrees,
more than once threatening to come to extremities
with several, who had betrayed restlessness
under the restraint and suffering of their unaccustomed
situation. Perhaps there is no man who
feels less for the complaints of the novice than
your weather-beaten and hardened mariner; for,
familiarized to the suffering and confinement of a
duties and avocations, he can scarcely enter into
the privations and embarrassments of those to
whom all is so new and painful. But, in the patron
of the Winkelried, there existed a natural indifference
to the grievances of others, and a narrow
selfishness of disposition, in aid of the opinions
which had been formed by a life of hardship and
exposure. He considered the vulgar passenger
as so much troublesome freight, which, while it
brought the advantage of a higher remuneration
than the same cubic measurement of inanimate
matter, had the unpleasant drawback of volition
and motion. With this general tendency to bully
and intimidate, the wary patron had, however,
made a silent exception in favor of the Italian,
who has introduced himself to the reader by the
ill-omened name of Il Maledetto, or the accursed.
This formidable personage had enjoyed a perfect
immunity from the effects of Baptiste's tyranny,
which he had been able to establish by a very
simple and quiet process. Instead of cowering at
the fierce glance, or recoiling at the rude remonstrances
of the churlish patron, he had chosen his
time, when the latter was in one of his hottest
ebullitions of anger, and when maledictions and
menaces flowed out of his mouth in torrents, coolly
to place himself on the very spot that the other
had proscribed, where he maintained his ground
with a quietness and composure which it might
have been difficult to say was more to be imputed
to extreme ignorance, or to immeasurable contempt.
At least so reasoned the spectators; some
thinking that the stranger meant to bring affairs to
a speedy issue by braving the patron's fury, and
others charitably inferring that he knew no better.
But thus did not Baptiste reason himself. He saw
by the calm eye and resolute demeanor of his passenger
difficulties, his captiousness, and his threats, were
alike despised; and he shrank from collision with
such a spirit, precisely on the principle that the intimidated
among the rest of the travellers shrunk
from a contest with his own. From this moment
Il Maledetto, or, as he was called by Baptiste himself,
who it would appear had some knowledge of
his person, Maso, became as completely the master
of his own movements, as if he had been one
of the more honored in the stern of the bark, or
even her patron. He did not abuse his advantage,
however, rarely quitting the indicated station near
his own effects, where he had been mainly content
to repose in listless indolence, like the others, dozing
away the minutes.
But the scene was now altogether changed.
The instant the wrangling, discontented, and unhappy,
because disappointed, patron, confessed his
inability to reach his port before the coming of
the expected night-breeze, and threw himself on
a bale, to conceal his dissatisfaction in sleep, head
arose after head from among the pile of freight,
and body after body followed the nobler member,
until the whole mass was alive with human beings.
The invigorating coolness, the tranquil hour, the
prospect of a safe if not a speedy arrival, and the
relief from excessive weariness, produced a sudden
and agreeable re-action in the feelings of all.
Even the Baron de Willading and his friends, who
had shared in none of the especial privations just
named, joined in the general exhibition of satisfaction
and good-will, rather aiding by their smiles
and affability, than restraining by their presence
the whims and jokes of the different individuals
among the motley group of their nameless companions.
The aspect and position of the bark, as well as
with their arrival, now deserve to be more
particularly mentioned. The manner in which
the vessel was loaded to the water's edge has
already been more than once alluded to. The
whole of the centre of the broad deck, a portion
of the Winkelried which, owing to the over-hanging
gangways, possessed, in common with all the
similar craft of the Leman, a greater width than
is usual in vessels of the same tonnage elsewhere,
was so cumbered with freight as barely to leave a
passage to the crew, forward and aft, by stepping
among the boxes and bales that were piled much
higher than their own heads. A little vacant
space was left near the stern, in which it was possible
for the party who occupied that part of the
deck to move, though in sufficiently straitened
limits, while the huge tiller played in its semicircle
behind. At the other extremity, as is absolutely
necessary in all navigation, the forecastle
was reasonably clear, though even this important
part of the deck was bristling with the flukes of
no less than nine anchors that lay in a row across
its breadth, the wild roadsteads of this end of
the lake rendering such a provision of ground-tackle
absolutely indispensable to the safety of
every craft that ventured into its eastern horn.
The effect of the whole, seen as it was in a state
of absolute rest, was to give to the Winkelried the
appearance of a small mound in the midst of the
water, that was crowded with human beings, and
seemingly so incorporated with the element on
which it floated as to grow out of its bosom; an
image that the fancy was not slow to form, aided
as it was by the reflection of the mass that the
unruffled lake threw back from its mirror-like face,
as perfectly formed, as unwieldy, and nearly as
distinct, as the original. To this picture of a motionless
pointed beak, however, formed especial exceptions.
The yards hung, as seamen term it, a
cockbill, or in such negligent and picturesque positions
as an artist would most love to draw, while
the drapery of the canvass was suspended in graceful
and spotless festoons, as it had fallen by chance, or
been cast carelessly from the hands of the boatmen.
The beak, or prow, rose in its sharp gallant stem,
resembling the stately neck of a swan, slightly
swerving from its direction, or inclining in a
nearly imperceptible sweep, as the hull yielded to
the secret influence of the varying currents.
When the teeming pile of freight, therefore,
began so freely to bring forth, and traveller after
traveller left his wallet, there was no great space
found in which they could stretch their wearied
limbs, or seek the change they needed. But suffering
is a good preparative for pleasure, and
there is no sweetner of liberty like previous confinement.
Baptiste was no sooner heard to snore,
than the whole hummock of cargo was garnished
with upright bodies and stretching arms and legs,
as mice are known to steal from their holes during
the slumbers of their mortal enemy, the cat.
The reader has been made sufficiently acquainted
with the moral composition of the Winkelried's
living freight, in the opening chapter. As it had
undergone no other alteration than that produced
by lassitude, he is already prepared, therefore, to
renew his communications with its different members,
all of whom were well disposed to show off
in their respective characters, the moment they
were favored with an opportunity. The mercurial
Pippo, as he had been the most difficult to
restrain during the day, was the first to steal from
his lair, now that the Argus-like eyes of Baptiste
permitted the freedom, and the exhilarating coolness
emboldened others, and, ere long, the buffoon had
an admiring audience around him, that was well-disposed
to laugh at his witticisms, and to applaud
all his practical jokes. Gaining courage as he proceeded,
the buffoon gradually went from liberty to
liberty, until he was at length triumphantly established
on what might be termed an advanced spur
of the mountain formed by the tubs of Nicklaus
Wagner, in the regular exercise of his art; while
a crowd of amused and gaping spectators clustered
about him, peopling every eminence of the
height, and even invading the more privileged
deck in their eagerness to see and to admire.
Though frequently reduced by adverse fortune
to the lowest shifts of his calling, such as the
horse-play of Policinello, and the imitation of uncouth
sounds, that resembled nothing either in heaven
or earth, Pippo was a clever knave in his way,
and was quite equal to a display of the higher branches
of his art, whenever chance gave him an audience
capable of estimating his qualities. On the present
occasion he was obliged to address himself
both to the polished and to the unpolished; for the
proximity of their position, as well as a good-natured
readiness to lend themselves to fooleries
that were so agreeable to most around them, had
brought the more gentle portion of the passengers
within the influence of his wit.
“And now, illustrissimi signori,” continued the
wily juggler, after having drawn a burst of applause
by one of his happiest hits in a sleight-of-hand
exhibition, “I come to the most imposing
and the most mysterious part of my knowledge—
that of looking into the future, and of foretelling
events. If there are any among you who would
wish to know how long they are to eat the bread
of toil, let them come to me; if there is a youth
is made of flesh or of stone—a maiden that
would see into a youth's faith and constancy,
while her long eyelashes cover her sight like a
modest silken veil—or a noble, that would fain
have an insight into the movements of his rivals at
court or council, let them all put their questions to
Pippo, who has an answer ready for each, and an
answer so real, that the most expert among the
listeners will be ready to swear that a lie from his
mouth is worth more than truth from that of another
man.”
“He that would gain credit for knowledge of
the future,” gravely observed the Signor Grimaldi,
who had listened to his countryman's voluble
eulogium on his own merits with a good-natured
laugh, “had best commence by showing his familiarity
with the past. Who and what is he that
speaks to thee, as a specimen of thy skill in sooth-saying?”
“His eccellenza is more than he seems, less than
he deserves to be, and as much as any present.
He hath an old and a prized friend at his elbow;
hath come because it was his pleasure, to witness
the games at Vévey—will depart for the same
reason, when they are over, and will seek his home
at his leisure—not like a fox stealing into his hole,
but as the stately ship sails, gallantly, and by the
light of the sun, into her haven.”
“This will never do, Pippo,” returned the good-humoured
old noble; “at need I might equal this
myself. Thou shouldst relate that which is less
probable, while it is more true.”
“Signore, we prophets like to sleep in whole
skins. If it be your eccellenza's pleasure and that
of your noble company to listen to the truly wonderful,
I will tell some of these honest people matters
touching their own interests that they do not
every body else as the sun in the heavens at noonday.”
“Thou wilt, probably, tell them their faults?”
“Your eccellenza has a right to my place, for
no prophet could have better divined my intention;”
answered the laughing knave. “Come
nearer, friend,” he added, beckoning to the Bernois;
“thou art Nicklaus Wagner, a fat peasant
of the great canton, and a warm husbandman,
that fancies he has a title to the respect of all he
meets because some one among his fathers bought
a right in the bürgerschaft. Thou hast a large
stake in the Winkelried, and art at this moment
thinking what punishment is good enough for
an impudent soothsayer who dares dive so unceremoniously
into the secrets of so warm a
citizen, while all around thee wish thy cheeses had
never left the dairy, to the discomfort of our limbs
and to the great detriment of the bark's speed.”
This sally at the expense of Nicklaus drew a
burst of merriment from the listeners; for the selfish
spirit he had manifested throughout the day
had won little favor with a majority of his fellow
travellers, who had all the generous propensities
that are usually so abundant among those who
have little or nothing to bestow, and who were by
this time so well disposed to be merry that much
less would have served to stimulate their mirth.
“Wert thou the owner of this good freight,
friend, thou might find its presence less uncomfortable
than thou now appearest to think,” returned
the literal peasant, who had no humour for
raillery, and to whom a jest on the subject of
property had that sort of irreverend character that
popular opinion and holy sayings have attached to
waste. “The cheeses are well enough where they
thou hast the alternative of the water.”
“A truce between us, worshipful burgher! and
let our skirmish end in something that may be useful
to both. Thou hast that which would be acceptable
to me, and I have that which no owner of
cheeses would refuse, did he know the means by
which it might be come at honestly.”
Nicklaus growled a few words of distrust and
indifference, but it was plain that the ambiguous
language of the juggler, as usual, had succeeded in
awakening interest. With the affectation of a
mind secretly conscious of its own infirmity, he
pretended to be indifferent to what the other professed
a readiness to reveal, while with the rapacity
of a grasping spirit he betrayed a longing to
know more.
“First I will tell thee,” said Pippo, with a parade
of good-nature, “that thou deservest to remain
in ignorance, as a punishment of thy pride and
want of faith; but it is the failing of your prophet
to let that be known which he ought to conceal.
Thou flatterest thyself this is the fattest cargo of
cheeses that will cross the Swiss waters this season,
on their way to an Italian market? Shake
not thy head.—'Tis useless to deny it to a man of
my learning!”
“Nay, I know there are others as heavy, and, it
may be, as good; but this has the advantage of being
the first, a circumstance that is certain to command
a price.”
“Such is the blindness of one that nature sent
on earth to deal in cheeses!”—The Herr Von Willading
and his friends smiled among themselves at
the cool impudence of the mountebank—“Thou
fanciest it is so; and at this moment, a heavily laden
bark is driving before a favorable gale, near
the upper end of the lake of the four cantons, while
its freight by the paths of the St. Gothard, to Milano
and other rich markets of the south. In virtue
of my secret power, I see that, in despite of all
thy cravings, it will arrive before thine.”
Nicklaus fidgeted, for the graphic particularity
of Pippo almost led him to believe the augury
might be true.
“Had this bark sailed according to our covenant,”
he said, with a simplicity that betrayed his
uneasiness, “the beasts bespoken by me would now
be loading at Villeneuve; and, if there be justice
in Vaud, I shall hold Baptiste responsible for any
disadvantage that may come of the neglect.”
“Luckily, the generous Baptiste is asleep,” returned
Pippo, “or we might hear objections to this
scheme. But, Signiori, I see you are satisfied with
this insight into the character of the warm peasant
of Berne, who, to say truth, has not much to conceal
from us, and I will turn my searching looks
into the soul of this pious pilgrim, the reverend Conrado,
whose unction may well go near to be a
leaven sufficient to lighten all in the bark of their
burthens of backslidings. Thou carriest the penitence
and prayers of many sinners, besides some
merchandise of this nature of thine own.”
“I am bound to Loretto, with the mental offerings
of certain Christians, who are too much occupied
with their daily concerns to make the journey
in person,” answered the pilgrim, who never absolutely
threw aside his professional character, though
he cared in general so little about his hypocrisy
being known. “I am poor, and humble of appear
ance, but I have seen miracles in my day!”
“If any trust valuable offerings to thy keeping,
thou art a living miracle in thine own person! I
can foresee that thou wilt bear nought else beside
aves.”
“Nay, I pretend to deal in little more. The rich
and great, they that send vessels of gold and rich
dresses to Our Lady, employ their own favorite
messengers; I am but the bearer of prayer and the
substitute for the penitent. The sufferings that I
undergo in the flesh are passed to the credit of my
employers, who get the benefit of my aches and
pains. I pretend to be no more than their go-between,
as yonder mariner has so lately called me.”
Pippo turned suddenly, following the direction
of the other's eye, and cast a glance at the self-styled
Il Maledetto. This individual, of all the
common herd, had alone forborne to join the gaping
and amused crowd near the juggler. His forbearance,
or want of curiosity, had left him in the
quiet possession of the little platform that was made
by the stowage of the boxes, and he now stood on
the summit of the pile, conspicuous by his situation
and mein, the latter being remarkable for its unmoved
calmness, heightened by the understanding
manner that is so peculiar to a seaman when
afloat.”
“Wilt thou have the history of thy coming perils,
friend mariner?” cried the mercurial mountebank:
“A journal of thy future risks and tempests
to amuse you in this calm? Such a picture of sea-monsters
and of coral that grows in the ocean's
caverns, where mariners sleep, that shall give thee
the night-mare for months, and cause thee to dream
of wrecks and bleached bones for the rest of thy
life? Thou hast only to wish it, to have the adventures
of thy next voyage laid before thee, like a
map.”
“Thou would'st gain more credit with me, as
one cunning in thy art, by giving the history of the
last.”
“The request is reasonable, and thou shalt have
it; for I love the bold adventurer that trusts himself
unabashed Pippo. “My first lessons in necromancy
were received on the mole of Napoli, amid burly
Inglesi, straight-nosed Greeks, swarthy Sicilians,
and Maltese with spirits as fine as the gold of their
own chains. This was the school in which I
learned to know my art, and an apt scholar I proved
in all that touches the philosophy and humanity
of my craft. Signore, thy palm?”
Maso spread his sinewy hand in the direction of
the juggler, without descending from his elevation,
and in a way to show that, while he would not
balk the common humor, he was superior to the
gaping wonder and childish credulity of most of
those who watched the result. Pippo affected to
stretch out his neck, in order to study the hard and
dark lines, and then he resumed his revelations,
like one perfectly satisfied with what he had discovered.
“The hand is masculine, and has been familiar
with many friends in its time. It hath dealt with
steel, and cordage, and saltpetre, and most of all
with gold. Signori, the true seat of a man's digestion
lies in the palm of his hand; if that is
free to give and to receive, he will never have a
costive conscience, for of all damnable inconveniences
that afflict mortals, that of a conscience
that will neither give up nor take is the heaviest
curse. Let a man have as much sagacity as shall
make him a cardinal, if it get entangled in the
meshes of one of your unyielding consciences, ye
shall see him a mendicant brother to his dying
day; let him be born a prince with a close-ribbed
opinion of this sort, and he had better have been
born a beggar, for his reign will be like a river
from which the current sets outward, without any
return. No, my friends, a palm like this of Maso's
is a favorable sign, since it hinges on a pliant will.
the jacket of a shell-fish, at its owner's pleasure.
Thou hast drawn near to many a port before this
of Vévey, after the sun has fallen low, Signor
Maso!”
“In that I have taken a seaman's chances
which depend more on the winds than on his own
wishes.”
“Thou esteemest the bottom of the craft in
which thou art required to sail, as far more important
than her ancient. Thou hast an eye for
a keel, but none for color; unless, indeed, as it
may happen to be convenient to seem that thou
art not.”
“Nay, Master Soothsayer, I suspect thee to be
an officer of some of the Holy Brotherhoods, sent
in this guise to question us poor travellers to our
ruin!” answered Maso. “I am, what thou seest,
but a poor mariner that hath no better bark under
him than this of Baptiste, and on a sea no larger
than a Swiss lake.”
“Shrewdly observed,” said Pippo, winking to
those near him, though he so little liked the eye
and bearing of the other that he was not sorry to
turn to some new subject. “But what matters it,
Signori, to be speaking of the qualities of men!
We are all alike, honorable, merciful, more disposed
to help others than to help ourselves, and so
little given to selfishness, that nature has been
obliged to supply every mother's son of us with a
sort of goad, that shall be constantly pricking us
on to look after our own interests. Here are animals
whose dispositions are less understood, and
we will bestow a useful minute in examining their
qualities. Reverend Augustine, this mastiff of
thine is named Uberto?”
“He is known by that appellation throughout
the cantons and their allies. The fame of the dog
the plain of Lombardy.”
“Now, Signori, you perceive that this is but a
secondary creature in the scale of animals. Do
him good and he will be grateful; do him harm,
and he will forgive. Feed him, and he is satisfied.
He will travel the paths of the St. Bernard, night
and day, to do credit to his training, and when
the toil is ended, all he asks is just as much meat
as will keep the breath within his ribs. Had
heaven given Uberto a conscience and greater
wit, the first might have shown him the impiety
of working for travellers on holy days and festas,
while the latter would be apt to say he was a fool
for troubling himself about the safety of others at
all.”
“And yet his masters, the good Augustines themselves,
do not hold so selfish a creed!” observed
Adelheid.
“Ah! they have heaven in view! I cry the
reverend Augustine's pardon—but, lady, the difference
is in the length of the calculation. Woe's
me, brethren; I would that my parents had educated
me for a bishop, or a viceroy, or some other
modest employment, that this learned craft of
mine might have fallen into better hands! Ye
would lose in instruction, but I should be removed
from the giddy heights of ambition, and die at last
with some hopes of being a saint. Fair lady, thou
travellest on a bootless errand, if I know the reason
that tempts thee to cross the Alps at this late
season of the year.”
This sudden address caused both Adelheid and
her father to start, for, in despite of pride and the
force of reason, it is seldom that we can completely
redeem our opinions from the shackles of superstition,
and that dread of the unseen future which
appears to have been entailed upon our nature, as
which all are hastening, with steps so noiseless and
yet so sure. The countenance of the maiden
changed, and she turned a quick, involuntary glance
at her anxious parent, as if to note the effect of
this rude announcement on him before she answer
ed.
“I go in quest of the blessing, health,” she said,
“and I should be sorry to think thy prognostic
likely to be realized. With youth, a good constitution,
and tender friends of my side, there is reason
to think thou mayest, in this at least, prove a
false prophet.”
“Lady, hast thou hope?”
Pippo ventured this question as he had adventured
his opinion; that is to say, recklessly, pretendingly,
and with great indifference to any effect it might
have, except as it was likely to establish his reputation
with the crowd. Still, it would seem, that
by one of those singular coincidences that are
hourly occurring in real life, he had unwittingly
touched a sensitive chord in the system of his fair
fellow-traveller. Her eyes sank to the deck at this
abrupt question, the color again stole to her polished
temples, and the least practised in the emotions
of the sex might have detected painful embarrassment
in her mein. She was, however,
spared the awkwardness of a reply, by the unexpected
and prompt interference of Maso.
“Hope is the last of our friends to prove recreant,”
said this mariner, “else would the cases
of many in company be bad enough, thine own
included, Pippo; for, judging by the outward signs,
the Swabian campaign has not been rich in spoils.”
“Providence has ordered the harvests of wit
much as it has ordered the harvests of the field,”
returned the juggler, who felt the sarcasm of the
other's remark with all the poignancy that it could
he was absolutely indebted to an extraordinary
access of generosity in Baptiste, for his very
passage across the Leman. “One year, thou shalt
find the vineyard dripping liquors precious as diamonds,
while, the next, barrenness shall make it
its seat. To-day the peasant will complain that
poverty prevents him from building the covering
necessary to house his crops, while to-morrow he
will be heard groaning over empty garners. Abundance
and famine travel the earth hard upon each
other's heels, and it is not surprising that he who
lives by his wits should sometimes fail of his harvest,
as well as he who lives by his hands.”
“If constant custom can secure success, the pious
Conrad should be prosperous,” answered Maso,
“for, of all machinery, that of sin is the least seldom
idle. His trade at least can never fail for
want of employers.”
“Thou hast it, Signor Maso; and it is for this
especial reason that I wish my parents had educated
me for a bishoprick. He that is charged
with reproving his fellow creatures for their vices
need never know an idle hour.”
“Thou dost not understand what thou sayest,” put
in Conrad; “love for the saints has much fallen
away since my youth, and where there is one
Christian ready now to bestow his silver, in order
to get the blessing of some favorite shrine, there
were then ten. I have heard the elders of us pilgrims
say, that, fifty years since, 'twas a pleasure
to bear the sins of a whole parish, for ours is a
business in which the load does not so much depend
on the amount as the quality; and, in their time,
there were willing offerings, frank confessions,
and generous consideration for those who undertook
the toil.”
“In such a trade, the less thou hast to answer
credit on the score of thine own backslidings,”
pithily remarked Nicklaus Wagner, who was a sturdy
Protestant, and apt enough at levelling these
side-hits at those who professed a faith, obnoxious
to the attacks of all who dissented from the opinions
and the spiritual domination of Rome.
But Conrad was a rare specimen of what may
be effected by training and well-rooted prejudices.
In presenting this man to the mind of the reader,
we have no intention to impugn the doctrines of the
particular church to which he belonged, but simply
to show, as the truth will fully warrant, to what
a pass of flagrant and impudent pretension the
qualities of man, unbridled by the wholesome corrective
of a sound and healthful opinion, was capable
of conducting abuses on the most solemn
and gravest subjects. In that age usages prevailed,
and were so familiar to the minds of the actors
as to excite neither reflection nor comment, which
would now lead to revolutions, and a general rising
in defence of principles which are held to be clear
as the air we breathe. Though we entertain no
doubt of the existence of that truth which pervades
the universe, and to which all things tend, we
think the world, in its practices, its theories, and
its conventional standards of right and wrong, is
in a condition of constant change, which it should
be the business of the wise and good to favor, so
long as care is had that the advantage is not bought
by a re-action of evil, that shall more than prove
its counterpoise. Conrad was one of the lowest
class of those fungi that grow out of the decayed
parts of the moral, as their more material types
prove the rottenness of the vegetable, world; and
the probability of the truth of the portraiture is not
to be loosely denied, without mature reflection on
the similar anomalies that are yet to be found on
the abuses which then disgraced Christianity, and
which, in truth, became so intolerable in their
character, and so hideous in their features, as to
be the chief influencing cause to bring about their
own annihilation.
Pippo, who had that useful tact which enables a
man to measure his own estimation with others,
was not slow to perceive that the more enlightened
part of his audience began to tire of this pretending
buffoonery. Resorting to a happy subterfuge,
by means of one of his sleight-of-hand expedients,
he succeeded in transferring the whole of that portion
of the spectators who still found amusement
in his jugglery, to the other end of the vessel,
where they established themselves among the anchors,
ready as ever to swallow an aliment, that
seems to find an unextinguishable appetite for its
reception among the vulgar. Here he continued
his exhibition, now moralizing in the quaint and
often in the pithy manner, which renders the southern
buffoon so much superior to his duller competitor
of the north, and uttering a wild jumble of
wholesome truths, loose morality, and witty inuendoes,
the latter of which never failed to extort roars
of laughter from all but those who happened to be
their luckless subjects.
Once or twice Baptiste raised his head, and stared
about him with drowsy eyes, but, satisfied there
was nothing to be done in the way of forcing the
vessel ahead, he resumed his nap, without interfering
in the pastime of those whom he had hitherto
seemed to take pleasure in annoying. Left
entirely to themselves, therefore, the crowd on
the forecastle represented one of those every-day
but profitable pictures of life, which abound under
our eyes, but which, though they are pregnant with
instruction, are treated with the indifference that
familiarity.
The crowded and overloaded bark might have
been compared to the vessel of human life, which
floats at all times subject to the thousand accidents
of a delicate and complicated machinery; the lake,
so smooth and alluring in its present tranquillity,
but so capable of lashing its iron-bound coasts with
fury, to a treacherous world, whose smile is almost
always as dangerous as its frown; and, to
complete the picture, the idle, laughing, thoughtless,
and yet inflammable group that surrounded
the buffoon, to the unaccountable medley of human
sympathies, of sudden and fierce passions, of fun
and frolic, so inexplicably mingled with the grossest
egotism that enters into the heart of man: in
a word, to so much that is beautiful and divine,
with so much that would seem to be derived directly
from the demons, a compound which composes
this mysterious and dread state of being, and
which we are taught, by reason and revelation,
is only a preparation for another still more incomprehensible
and wonderful.
| CHAPTER IV. The headsman, or, The Abbaye des Vignerons | |