No More Learning

First, it was passed about the waist of
the king, and tied, then about another of the party, and also tied;
then about all successively, in the same manner. When this chaining
arrangement was complete, and the party stood as far apart from each
other as possible, they formed a circle; and to make all things appear
natural, Hop-Frog passed the residue of the chain in two diameters,
at right angles, across the circle, after the fashion adopted, at the
present day, by those who capture Chimpanzees, or other large apes, in
Borneo.

The grand saloon in which the masquerade was to take place, was a
circular room, very lofty, and receiving the light of the sun only
through a single window at top. At night (the season for which the
apartment was especially designed) it was illuminated principally by a
large chandelier, depending by a chain from the centre of the sky-light,
and lowered, or elevated, by means of a counter-balance as usual; but
(in order not to look unsightly) this latter passed outside the cupola
and over the roof.

The arrangements of the room had been left to Trippetta's
superintendence; but, in some particulars, it seems, she had been guided
by the calmer judgment of her friend the dwarf. At his suggestion it was
that, on this occasion, the chandelier was removed. Its waxen drippings
(which, in weather so warm, it was quite impossible to prevent) would
have been seriously detrimental to the rich dresses of the guests, who,
on account of the crowded state of the saloon, could not all be expected
to keep from out its centre; that is to say, from under the chandelier.
Additional sconces were set in various parts of the hall, out of the
war, and a flambeau, emitting sweet odor, was placed in the right hand
of each of the Caryaides [Caryatides] that stood against the wall--some
fifty or sixty altogether.

The eight ourang-outangs, taking Hop-Frog's advice, waited patiently
until midnight (when the room was thoroughly filled with masqueraders)
before making their appearance. No sooner had the clock ceased striking,
however, than they rushed, or rather rolled in, all together--for the
impediments of their chains caused most of the party to fall, and all to
stumble as they entered.

The excitement among the masqueraders was prodigious, and filled the
heart of the king with glee. As had been anticipated, there were not
a few of the guests who supposed the ferocious-looking creatures to be
beasts of some kind in reality, if not precisely ourang-outangs. Many
of the women swooned with affright; and had not the king taken the
precaution to exclude all weapons from the saloon, his party might soon
have expiated their frolic in their blood. As it was, a general rush
was made for the doors; but the king had ordered them to be locked
immediately upon his entrance; and, at the dwarf's suggestion, the keys
had been deposited with him.

While the tumult was at its height, and each masquerader attentive only
to his own safety (for, in fact, there was much real danger from the
pressure of the excited crowd), the chain by which the chandelier
ordinarily hung, and which had been drawn up on its removal, might have
been seen very gradually to descend, until its hooked extremity came
within three feet of the floor.

Soon after this, the king and his seven friends having reeled about the
hall in all directions, found themselves, at length, in its centre, and,
of course, in immediate contact with the chain. While they were thus
situated, the dwarf, who had followed noiselessly at their heels,
inciting them to keep up the commotion, took hold of their own chain
at the intersection of the two portions which crossed the circle
diametrically and at right angles. Here, with the rapidity of thought,
he inserted the hook from which the chandelier had been wont to depend;
and, in an instant, by some unseen agency, the chandelier-chain was
drawn so far upward as to take the hook out of reach, and, as an
inevitable consequence, to drag the ourang-outangs together in close
connection, and face to face.

The masqueraders, by this time, had recovered, in some measure,
from their alarm; and, beginning to regard the whole matter as a
well-contrived pleasantry, set up a loud shout of laughter at the
predicament of the apes.

"Leave them to me! " now screamed Hop-Frog, his shrill voice making
itself easily heard through all the din. "Leave them to me. I fancy I
know them. If I can only get a good look at them, I can soon tell who
they are. "

Here, scrambling over the heads of the crowd, he managed to get to the
wall; when, seizing a flambeau from one of the Caryatides, he returned,
as he went, to the centre of the room-leaping, with the agility of a
monkey, upon the kings head, and thence clambered a few feet up the
chain; holding down the torch to examine the group of ourang-outangs,
and still screaming: "I shall soon find out who they are! "

And now, while the whole assembly (the apes included) were convulsed
with laughter, the jester suddenly uttered a shrill whistle; when the
chain flew violently up for about thirty feet--dragging with it the
dismayed and struggling ourang-outangs, and leaving them suspended in
mid-air between the sky-light and the floor. Hop-Frog, clinging to the
chain as it rose, still maintained his relative position in respect to
the eight maskers, and still (as if nothing were the matter) continued
to thrust his torch down toward them, as though endeavoring to discover
who they were.

So thoroughly astonished was the whole company at this ascent, that a
dead silence, of about a minute's duration, ensued. It was broken by
just such a low, harsh, grating sound, as had before attracted the
attention of the king and his councillors when the former threw the wine
in the face of Trippetta. But, on the present occasion, there could be
no question as to whence the sound issued. It came from the fang--like
teeth of the dwarf, who ground them and gnashed them as he foamed at
the mouth, and glared, with an expression of maniacal rage, into the
upturned countenances of the king and his seven companions.

"Ah, ha! " said at length the infuriated jester. "Ah, ha! I begin to see
who these people are now! " Here, pretending to scrutinize the king more
closely, he held the flambeau to the flaxen coat which enveloped him,
and which instantly burst into a sheet of vivid flame. In less than half
a minute the whole eight ourang-outangs were blazing fiercely, amid the
shrieks of the multitude who gazed at them from below, horror-stricken,
and without the power to render them the slightest assistance.

At length the flames, suddenly increasing in virulence, forced the
jester to climb higher up the chain, to be out of their reach; and, as
he made this movement, the crowd again sank, for a brief instant, into
silence. The dwarf seized his opportunity, and once more spoke:

"I now see distinctly. " he said, "what manner of people these maskers
are. They are a great king and his seven privy-councillors,--a king who
does not scruple to strike a defenceless girl and his seven councillors
who abet him in the outrage. As for myself, I am simply Hop-Frog, the
jester--and this is my last jest. "

Owing to the high combustibility of both the flax and the tar to which
it adhered, the dwarf had scarcely made an end of his brief speech
before the work of vengeance was complete. The eight corpses swung in
their chains, a fetid, blackened, hideous, and indistinguishable
mass. The cripple hurled his torch at them, clambered leisurely to the
ceiling, and disappeared through the sky-light.

It is supposed that Trippetta, stationed on the roof of the saloon,
had been the accomplice of her friend in his fiery revenge, and that,
together, they effected their escape to their own country: for neither
was seen again.




THE MAN OF THE CROWD.

Ce grand malheur, de ne pouvoir etre seul.

_La Bruyere_.

IT was well said of a certain German book that "_er lasst sich nicht
lesen_"--it does not permit itself to be read. There are some secrets
which do not permit themselves to be told. Men die nightly in their
beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors and looking them
piteously in the eyes--die with despair of heart and convulsion of
throat, on account of the hideousness of mysteries which will not suffer
themselves to be revealed. Now and then, alas, the conscience of man
takes up a burthen so heavy in horror that it can be thrown down only
into the grave. And thus the essence of all crime is undivulged.

Not long ago, about the closing in of an evening in autumn, I sat at the
large bow window of the D----- Coffee-House in London. For some months
I had been ill in health, but was now convalescent, and, with returning
strength, found myself in one of those happy moods which are so
precisely the converse of ennui--moods of the keenest appetency, when
the film from the mental vision departs--the [Greek phrase]--and the
intellect, electrified, surpasses as greatly its every-day condition,
as does the vivid yet candid reason of Leibnitz, the mad and flimsy
rhetoric of Gorgias. Merely to breathe was enjoyment; and I derived
positive pleasure even from many of the legitimate sources of pain. I
felt a calm but inquisitive interest in every thing. With a cigar in
my mouth and a newspaper in my lap, I had been amusing myself for the
greater part of the afternoon, now in poring over advertisements, now
in observing the promiscuous company in the room, and now in peering
through the smoky panes into the street.

This latter is one of the principal thoroughfares of the city, and had
been very much crowded during the whole day. But, as the darkness came
on, the throng momently increased; and, by the time the lamps were well
lighted, two dense and continuous tides of population were rushing past
the door. At this particular period of the evening I had never before
been in a similar situation, and the tumultuous sea of human heads
filled me, therefore, with a delicious novelty of emotion. I gave up,
at length, all care of things within the hotel, and became absorbed in
contemplation of the scene without.

At first my observations took an abstract and generalizing turn.
I looked at the passengers in masses, and thought of them in their
aggregate relations. Soon, however, I descended to details, and regarded
with minute interest the innumerable varieties of figure, dress, air,
gait, visage, and expression of countenance.

By far the greater number of those who went by had a satisfied
business-like demeanor, and seemed to be thinking only of making their
way through the press. Their brows were knit, and their eyes rolled
quickly; when pushed against by fellow-wayfarers they evinced no symptom
of impatience, but adjusted their clothes and hurried on. Others, still
a numerous class, were restless in their movements, had flushed faces,
and talked and gesticulated to themselves, as if feeling in solitude
on account of the very denseness of the company around. When impeded in
their progress, these people suddenly ceased muttering, but re-doubled
their gesticulations, and awaited, with an absent and overdone smile
upon the lips, the course of the persons impeding them. If jostled,
they bowed profusely to the jostlers, and appeared overwhelmed with
confusion. --There was nothing very distinctive about these two large
classes beyond what I have noted. Their habiliments belonged to that
order which is pointedly termed the decent. They were undoubtedly
noblemen, merchants, attorneys, tradesmen, stock-jobbers--the Eupatrids
and the common-places of society--men of leisure and men actively
engaged in affairs of their own--conducting business upon their own
responsibility. They did not greatly excite my attention.

The tribe of clerks was an obvious one and here I discerned
two remarkable divisions. There were the junior clerks of flash
houses--young gentlemen with tight coats, bright boots, well-oiled hair,
and supercilious lips. Setting aside a certain dapperness of carriage,
which may be termed deskism for want of a better word, the manner of
these persons seemed to me an exact fac-simile of what had been the
perfection of bon ton about twelve or eighteen months before. They wore
the cast-off graces of the gentry;--and this, I believe, involves the
best definition of the class.

The division of the upper clerks of staunch firms, or of the "steady
old fellows," it was not possible to mistake. These were known by their
coats and pantaloons of black or brown, made to sit comfortably, with
white cravats and waistcoats, broad solid-looking shoes, and thick hose
or gaiters. --They had all slightly bald heads, from which the right
ears, long used to pen-holding, had an odd habit of standing off on
end. I observed that they always removed or settled their hats with both
hands, and wore watches, with short gold chains of a substantial and
ancient pattern. Theirs was the affectation of respectability;--if
indeed there be an affectation so honorable.

There were many individuals of dashing appearance, whom I easily
understood as belonging to the race of swell pick-pockets with which
all great cities are infested. I watched these gentry with much
inquisitiveness, and found it difficult to imagine how they should ever
be mistaken for gentlemen by gentlemen themselves. Their voluminousness
of wristband, with an air of excessive frankness, should betray them at
once.

The gamblers, of whom I descried not a few, were still more easily
recognisable. They wore every variety of dress, from that of the
desperate thimble-rig bully, with velvet waistcoat, fancy neckerchief,
gilt chains, and filagreed buttons, to that of the scrupulously inornate
clergyman, than which nothing could be less liable to suspicion. Still
all were distinguished by a certain sodden swarthiness of complexion, a
filmy dimness of eye, and pallor and compression of lip. There were two
other traits, moreover, by which I could always detect them;--a guarded
lowness of tone in conversation, and a more than ordinary extension of
the thumb in a direction at right angles with the fingers. --Very often,
in company with these sharpers, I observed an order of men somewhat
different in habits, but still birds of a kindred feather. They may be
defined as the gentlemen who live by their wits. They seem to prey
upon the public in two battalions--that of the dandies and that of the
military men. Of the first grade the leading features are long locks and
smiles; of the second frogged coats and frowns.

Descending in the scale of what is termed gentility, I found darker
and deeper themes for speculation. I saw Jew pedlars, with hawk eyes
flashing from countenances whose every other feature wore only an
expression of abject humility; sturdy professional street beggars
scowling upon mendicants of a better stamp, whom despair alone had
driven forth into the night for charity; feeble and ghastly invalids,
upon whom death had placed a sure hand, and who sidled and tottered
through the mob, looking every one beseechingly in the face, as if in
search of some chance consolation, some lost hope; modest young girls
returning from long and late labor to a cheerless home, and shrinking
more tearfully than indignantly from the glances of ruffians, whose
direct contact, even, could not be avoided; women of the town of all
kinds and of all ages--the unequivocal beauty in the prime of her
womanhood, putting one in mind of the statue in Lucian, with the surface
of Parian marble, and the interior filled with filth--the loathsome and
utterly lost leper in rags--the wrinkled, bejewelled and paint-begrimed
beldame, making a last effort at youth--the mere child of immature form,
yet, from long association, an adept in the dreadful coquetries of her
trade, and burning with a rabid ambition to be ranked the equal of her
elders in vice; drunkards innumerable and indescribable--some in shreds
and patches, reeling, inarticulate, with bruised visage and lack-lustre
eyes--some in whole although filthy garments, with a slightly unsteady
swagger, thick sensual lips, and hearty-looking rubicund faces--others
clothed in materials which had once been good, and which even now were
scrupulously well brushed--men who walked with a more than naturally
firm and springy step, but whose countenances were fearfully pale, whose
eyes hideously wild and red, and who clutched with quivering fingers, as
they strode through the crowd, at every object which came within
their reach; beside these, pie-men, porters, coal--heavers, sweeps;
organ-grinders, monkey-exhibiters and ballad mongers, those who vended
with those who sang; ragged artizans and exhausted laborers of every
description, and all full of a noisy and inordinate vivacity which
jarred discordantly upon the ear, and gave an aching sensation to the
eye.

As the night deepened, so deepened to me the interest of the scene; for
not only did the general character of the crowd materially alter (its
gentler features retiring in the gradual withdrawal of the more orderly
portion of the people, and its harsher ones coming out into bolder
relief, as the late hour brought forth every species of infamy from its
den,) but the rays of the gas-lamps, feeble at first in their struggle
with the dying day, had now at length gained ascendancy, and threw over
every thing a fitful and garish lustre. All was dark yet splendid--as
that ebony to which has been likened the style of Tertullian.

The wild effects of the light enchained me to an examination of
individual faces; and although the rapidity with which the world of
light flitted before the window, prevented me from casting more than
a glance upon each visage, still it seemed that, in my then peculiar
mental state, I could frequently read, even in that brief interval of a
glance, the history of long years.

With my brow to the glass, I was thus occupied in scrutinizing the mob,
when suddenly there came into view a countenance (that of a decrepid old
man, some sixty-five or seventy years of age,)--a countenance which
at once arrested and absorbed my whole attention, on account of the
absolute idiosyncrasy of its expression. Any thing even remotely
resembling that expression I had never seen before. I well remember that
my first thought, upon beholding it, was that Retzch, had he viewed it,
would have greatly preferred it to his own pictural incarnations of the
fiend. As I endeavored, during the brief minute of my original survey,
to form some analysis of the meaning conveyed, there arose confusedly
and paradoxically within my mind, the ideas of vast mental power, of
caution, of penuriousness, of avarice, of coolness, of malice, of
blood thirstiness, of triumph, of merriment, of excessive terror,
of intense--of supreme despair. I felt singularly aroused, startled,
fascinated. "How wild a history," I said to myself, "is written within
that bosom! " Then came a craving desire to keep the man in view--to know
more of him. Hurriedly putting on an overcoat, and seizing my hat and
cane, I made my way into the street, and pushed through the crowd in
the direction which I had seen him take; for he had already disappeared.
With some little difficulty I at length came within sight of him,
approached, and followed him closely, yet cautiously, so as not to
attract his attention.

I had now a good opportunity of examining his person. He was short in
stature, very thin, and apparently very feeble. His clothes, generally,
were filthy and ragged; but as he came, now and then, within the strong
glare of a lamp, I perceived that his linen, although dirty, was of
beautiful texture; and my vision deceived me, or, through a rent in a
closely-buttoned and evidently second-handed roquelaire which enveloped
him, I caught a glimpse both of a diamond and of a dagger. These
observations heightened my curiosity, and I resolved to follow the
stranger whithersoever he should go.

It was now fully night-fall, and a thick humid fog hung over the city,
soon ending in a settled and heavy rain. This change of weather had an
odd effect upon the crowd, the whole of which was at once put into new
commotion, and overshadowed by a world of umbrellas. The waver, the
jostle, and the hum increased in a tenfold degree. For my own part I
did not much regard the rain--the lurking of an old fever in my system
rendering the moisture somewhat too dangerously pleasant. Tying a
handkerchief about my mouth, I kept on. For half an hour the old man
held his way with difficulty along the great thoroughfare; and I here
walked close at his elbow through fear of losing sight of him. Never
once turning his head to look back, he did not observe me. By and bye he
passed into a cross street, which, although densely filled with people,
was not quite so much thronged as the main one he had quitted. Here a
change in his demeanor became evident. He walked more slowly and with
less object than before--more hesitatingly. He crossed and re-crossed
the way repeatedly without apparent aim; and the press was still so
thick that, at every such movement, I was obliged to follow him closely.
The street was a narrow and long one, and his course lay within it for
nearly an hour, during which the passengers had gradually diminished to
about that number which is ordinarily seen at noon in Broadway near the
Park--so vast a difference is there between a London populace and that
of the most frequented American city. A second turn brought us into a
square, brilliantly lighted, and overflowing with life. The old manner
of the stranger re-appeared. His chin fell upon his breast, while his
eyes rolled wildly from under his knit brows, in every direction, upon
those who hemmed him in. He urged his way steadily and perseveringly. I
was surprised, however, to find, upon his having made the circuit of
the square, that he turned and retraced his steps. Still more was I
astonished to see him repeat the same walk several times--once nearly
detecting me as he came round with a sudden movement.

In this exercise he spent another hour, at the end of which we met with
far less interruption from passengers than at first. The rain fell fast;
the air grew cool; and the people were retiring to their homes. With
a gesture of impatience, the wanderer passed into a bye-street
comparatively deserted. Down this, some quarter of a mile long, he
rushed with an activity I could not have dreamed of seeing in one so
aged, and which put me to much trouble in pursuit. A few minutes brought
us to a large and busy bazaar, with the localities of which the stranger
appeared well acquainted, and where his original demeanor again became
apparent, as he forced his way to and fro, without aim, among the host
of buyers and sellers.

During the hour and a half, or thereabouts, which we passed in this
place, it required much caution on my part to keep him within reach
without attracting his observation. Luckily I wore a pair of caoutchouc
over-shoes, and could move about in perfect silence. At no moment did
he see that I watched him. He entered shop after shop, priced nothing,
spoke no word, and looked at all objects with a wild and vacant stare.
I was now utterly amazed at his behavior, and firmly resolved that we
should not part until I had satisfied myself in some measure respecting
him.

A loud-toned clock struck eleven, and the company were fast deserting
the bazaar. A shop-keeper, in putting up a shutter, jostled the old
man, and at the instant I saw a strong shudder come over his frame. He
hurried into the street, looked anxiously around him for an instant, and
then ran with incredible swiftness through many crooked and people-less
lanes, until we emerged once more upon the great thoroughfare whence we
had started--the street of the D---- Hotel. It no longer wore, however,
the same aspect. It was still brilliant with gas; but the rain fell
fiercely, and there were few persons to be seen. The stranger grew pale.
He walked moodily some paces up the once populous avenue, then, with a
heavy sigh, turned in the direction of the river, and, plunging through
a great variety of devious ways, came out, at length, in view of one of
the principal theatres. It was about being closed, and the audience were
thronging from the doors. I saw the old man gasp as if for breath while
he threw himself amid the crowd; but I thought that the intense agony of
his countenance had, in some measure, abated. His head again fell upon
his breast; he appeared as I had seen him at first. I observed that
he now took the course in which had gone the greater number of the
audience--but, upon the whole, I was at a loss to comprehend the
waywardness of his actions.

As he proceeded, the company grew more scattered, and his old uneasiness
and vacillation were resumed. For some time he followed closely a
party of some ten or twelve roisterers; but from this number one by one
dropped off, until three only remained together, in a narrow and gloomy
lane little frequented. The stranger paused, and, for a moment, seemed
lost in thought; then, with every mark of agitation, pursued rapidly
a route which brought us to the verge of the city, amid regions very
different from those we had hitherto traversed. It was the most noisome
quarter of London, where every thing wore the worst impress of the most
deplorable poverty, and of the most desperate crime. By the dim light
of an accidental lamp, tall, antique, worm-eaten, wooden tenements were
seen tottering to their fall, in directions so many and capricious that
scarce the semblance of a passage was discernible between them.
The paving-stones lay at random, displaced from their beds by the
rankly-growing grass. Horrible filth festered in the dammed-up gutters.
The whole atmosphere teemed with desolation. Yet, as we proceeded, the
sounds of human life revived by sure degrees, and at length large bands
of the most abandoned of a London populace were seen reeling to and fro.
The spirits of the old man again flickered up, as a lamp which is near
its death hour. Once more he strode onward with elastic tread. Suddenly
a corner was turned, a blaze of light burst upon our sight, and we stood
before one of the huge suburban temples of Intemperance--one of the
palaces of the fiend, Gin.

It was now nearly day-break; but a number of wretched inebriates still
pressed in and out of the flaunting entrance. With a half shriek of
joy the old man forced a passage within, resumed at once his original
bearing, and stalked backward and forward, without apparent object,
among the throng. He had not been thus long occupied, however, before
a rush to the doors gave token that the host was closing them for the
night. It was something even more intense than despair that I then
observed upon the countenance of the singular being whom I had watched
so pertinaciously. Yet he did not hesitate in his career, but, with
a mad energy, retraced his steps at once, to the heart of the mighty
London. Long and swiftly he fled, while I followed him in the wildest
amazement, resolute not to abandon a scrutiny in which I now felt an
interest all-absorbing. The sun arose while we proceeded, and, when we
had once again reached that most thronged mart of the populous town, the
street of the D----- Hotel, it presented an appearance of human bustle
and activity scarcely inferior to what I had seen on the evening before.
And here, long, amid the momently increasing confusion, did I persist
in my pursuit of the stranger. But, as usual, he walked to and fro, and
during the day did not pass from out the turmoil of that street. And,
as the shades of the second evening came on, I grew wearied unto death,
and, stopping fully in front of the wanderer, gazed at him steadfastly
in the face. He noticed me not, but resumed his solemn walk, while I,
ceasing to follow, remained absorbed in contemplation. "This old man," I
said at length, "is the type and the genius of deep crime. He refuses to
be alone. [page 228:] He is the man of the crowd. It will be in vain to
follow; for I shall learn no more of him, nor of his deeds. The worst
heart of the world is a grosser book than the 'Hortulus Animae,' {*1} and
perhaps it is but one of the great mercies of God that 'er lasst sich
nicht lesen. '"

{*1} The "_Hortulus Animae cum Oratiunculis Aliquibus Superadditis_" of
Grunninger




NEVER BET THE DEVIL YOUR HEAD

A Tale With a Moral.

"_CON tal que las costumbres de un autor_," says Don Thomas de las
Torres, in the preface to his "Amatory Poems" _"sean puras y castas,
importo muy poco que no sean igualmente severas sus obras"_--meaning,
in plain English, that, provided the morals of an author are pure
personally, it signifies nothing what are the morals of his books. We
presume that Don Thomas is now in Purgatory for the assertion. It would
be a clever thing, too, in the way of poetical justice, to keep him
there until his "Amatory Poems" get out of print, or are laid definitely
upon the shelf through lack of readers. Every fiction should have a
moral; and, what is more to the purpose, the critics have discovered
that every fiction has. Philip Melanchthon, some time ago, wrote a
commentary upon the "Batrachomyomachia," and proved that the poet's
object was to excite a distaste for sedition. Pierre la Seine, going
a step farther, shows that the intention was to recommend to young
men temperance in eating and drinking. Just so, too, Jacobus Hugo has
satisfied himself that, by Euenis, Homer meant to insinuate John Calvin;
by Antinous, Martin Luther; by the Lotophagi, Protestants in general;
and, by the Harpies, the Dutch. Our more modern Scholiasts are
equally acute. These fellows demonstrate a hidden meaning in "The
Antediluvians," a parable in Powhatan, "new views in Cock Robin," and
transcendentalism in "Hop O' My Thumb. " In short, it has been shown that
no man can sit down to write without a very profound design. Thus to
authors in general much trouble is spared. A novelist, for example,
need have no care of his moral. It is there--that is to say, it is
somewhere--and the moral and the critics can take care of themselves.
When the proper time arrives, all that the gentleman intended, and all
that he did not intend, will be brought to light, in the "Dial," or the
"Down-Easter," together with all that he ought to have intended, and
the rest that he clearly meant to intend:--so that it will all come very
straight in the end.

There is no just ground, therefore, for the charge brought against me by
certain ignoramuses--that I have never written a moral tale, or, in more
precise words, a tale with a moral. They are not the critics predestined
to bring me out, and develop my morals:--that is the secret. By and by
the "North American Quarterly Humdrum" will make them ashamed of their
stupidity. In the meantime, by way of staying execution--by way
of mitigating the accusations against me--I offer the sad history
appended,--a history about whose obvious moral there can be no question
whatever, since he who runs may read it in the large capitals which form
the title of the tale. I should have credit for this arrangement--a
far wiser one than that of La Fontaine and others, who reserve the
impression to be conveyed until the last moment, and thus sneak it in at
the fag end of their fables.
Defuncti injuria ne afficiantur was a law of the twelve tables, and De
mortuis nil nisi bonum is an excellent injunction--even if the dead in
question be nothing but dead small beer. It is not my design, therefore,
to vituperate my deceased friend, Toby Dammit. He was a sad dog, it is
true, and a dog's death it was that he died; but he himself was not to
blame for his vices. They grew out of a personal defect in his mother.
She did her best in the way of flogging him while an infant--for duties
to her well--regulated mind were always pleasures, and babies, like
tough steaks, or the modern Greek olive trees, are invariably the better
for beating--but, poor woman! she had the misfortune to be left-handed,
and a child flogged left-handedly had better be left unflogged. The
world revolves from right to left. It will not do to whip a baby from
left to right. If each blow in the proper direction drives an evil
propensity out, it follows that every thump in an opposite one knocks
its quota of wickedness in. I was often present at Toby's chastisements,
and, even by the way in which he kicked, I could perceive that he was
getting worse and worse every day. At last I saw, through the tears in
my eyes, that there was no hope of the villain at all, and one day when
he had been cuffed until he grew so black in the face that one might
have mistaken him for a little African, and no effect had been produced
beyond that of making him wriggle himself into a fit, I could stand
it no longer, but went down upon my knees forthwith, and, uplifting my
voice, made prophecy of his ruin.

The fact is that his precocity in vice was awful. At five months of age
he used to get into such passions that he was unable to articulate. At
six months, I caught him gnawing a pack of cards. At seven months he
was in the constant habit of catching and kissing the female babies.
At eight months he peremptorily refused to put his signature to the
Temperance pledge. Thus he went on increasing in iniquity, month after
month, until, at the close of the first year, he not only insisted upon
wearing moustaches, but had contracted a propensity for cursing and
swearing, and for backing his assertions by bets.

Through this latter most ungentlemanly practice, the ruin which I had
predicted to Toby Dammit overtook him at last. The fashion had "grown
with his growth and strengthened with his strength," so that, when
he came to be a man, he could scarcely utter a sentence without
interlarding it with a proposition to gamble. Not that he actually laid
wagers--no. I will do my friend the justice to say that he would as soon
have laid eggs. With him the thing was a mere formula--nothing more. His
expressions on this head had no meaning attached to them whatever. They
were simple if not altogether innocent expletives--imaginative phrases
wherewith to round off a sentence. When he said "I'll bet you so and
so," nobody ever thought of taking him up; but still I could not help
thinking it my duty to put him down. The habit was an immoral one, and
so I told him. It was a vulgar one--this I begged him to believe. It was
discountenanced by society--here I said nothing but the truth. It was
forbidden by act of Congress--here I had not the slightest intention
of telling a lie. I remonstrated--but to no purpose. I demonstrated--in
vain. I entreated--he smiled. I implored--he laughed. I preached--he
sneered. I threatened--he swore. I kicked him--he called for the police.
I pulled his nose--he blew it, and offered to bet the Devil his head
that I would not venture to try that experiment again.

Poverty was another vice which the peculiar physical deficiency of
Dammit's mother had entailed upon her son. He was detestably poor, and
this was the reason, no doubt, that his expletive expressions about
betting, seldom took a pecuniary turn. I will not be bound to say that
I ever heard him make use of such a figure of speech as "I'll bet you a
dollar. " It was usually "I'll bet you what you please," or "I'll bet you
what you dare," or "I'll bet you a trifle," or else, more significantly
still, "I'll bet the Devil my head. "

This latter form seemed to please him best;--perhaps because it involved
the least risk; for Dammit had become excessively parsimonious. Had any
one taken him up, his head was small, and thus his loss would have been
small too. But these are my own reflections and I am by no means sure
that I am right in attributing them to him. At all events the phrase in
question grew daily in favor, notwithstanding the gross impropriety of
a man betting his brains like bank-notes:--but this was a point which my
friend's perversity of disposition would not permit him to comprehend.
In the end, he abandoned all other forms of wager, and gave himself up
to "I'll bet the Devil my head," with a pertinacity and exclusiveness
of devotion that displeased not less than it surprised me. I am always
displeased by circumstances for which I cannot account. Mysteries
force a man to think, and so injure his health. The truth is, there was
something in the air with which Mr. Dammit was wont to give utterance to
his offensive expression--something in his manner of enunciation--which
at first interested, and afterwards made me very uneasy--something
which, for want of a more definite term at present, I must be permitted
to call queer; but which Mr. Coleridge would have called mystical,
Mr. Kant pantheistical, Mr. Carlyle twistical, and Mr. Emerson
hyperquizzitistical. I began not to like it at all. Mr. Dammits soul was
in a perilous state. I resolved to bring all my eloquence into play to
save it. I vowed to serve him as St. Patrick, in the Irish chronicle, is
said to have served the toad,--that is to say, "awaken him to a sense
of his situation. " I addressed myself to the task forthwith. Once more I
betook myself to remonstrance. Again I collected my energies for a final
attempt at expostulation.

When I had made an end of my lecture, Mr. Dammit indulged himself in
some very equivocal behavior. For some moments he remained silent,
merely looking me inquisitively in the face. But presently he threw his
head to one side, and elevated his eyebrows to a great extent. Then he
spread out the palms of his hands and shrugged up his shoulders. Then he
winked with the right eye. Then he repeated the operation with the left.
Then he shut them both up very tight. Then he opened them both so
very wide that I became seriously alarmed for the consequences.
Then, applying his thumb to his nose, he thought proper to make an
indescribable movement with the rest of his fingers. Finally, setting
his arms a-kimbo, he condescended to reply.

I can call to mind only the beads of his discourse. He would be obliged
to me if I would hold my tongue. He wished none of my advice. He
despised all my insinuations. He was old enough to take care of himself.
Did I still think him baby Dammit? Did I mean to say any thing against
his character? Did I intend to insult him? Was I a fool? Was my maternal
parent aware, in a word, of my absence from the domiciliary residence?
He would put this latter question to me as to a man of veracity, and
he would bind himself to abide by my reply. Once more he would demand
explicitly if my mother knew that I was out. My confusion, he said,
betrayed me, and he would be willing to bet the Devil his head that she
did not.

Mr. Dammit did not pause for my rejoinder. Turning upon his heel, he
left my presence with undignified precipitation. It was well for him
that he did so. My feelings had been wounded. Even my anger had been
aroused. For once I would have taken him up upon his insulting wager. I
would have won for the Arch-Enemy Mr. Dammit's little head--for the fact
is, my mamma was very well aware of my merely temporary absence from
home.

But Khoda shefa midehed--Heaven gives relief--as the Mussulmans say when
you tread upon their toes. It was in pursuance of my duty that I had
been insulted, and I bore the insult like a man. It now seemed to me,
however, that I had done all that could be required of me, in the case
of this miserable individual, and I resolved to trouble him no longer
with my counsel, but to leave him to his conscience and himself. But
although I forebore to intrude with my advice, I could not bring myself
to give up his society altogether. I even went so far as to humor some
of his less reprehensible propensities; and there were times when I
found myself lauding his wicked jokes, as epicures do mustard, with
tears in my eyes:--so profoundly did it grieve me to hear his evil talk.

One fine day, having strolled out together, arm in arm, our route led
us in the direction of a river. There was a bridge, and we resolved to
cross it. It was roofed over, by way of protection from the weather, and
the archway, having but few windows, was thus very uncomfortably dark.
As we entered the passage, the contrast between the external glare and
the interior gloom struck heavily upon my spirits. Not so upon those
of the unhappy Dammit, who offered to bet the Devil his head that I was
hipped. He seemed to be in an unusual good humor. He was excessively
lively--so much so that I entertained I know not what of uneasy
suspicion. It is not impossible that he was affected with the
transcendentals. I am not well enough versed, however, in the diagnosis
of this disease to speak with decision upon the point; and unhappily
there were none of my friends of the "Dial" present. I suggest the idea,
nevertheless, because of a certain species of austere Merry-Andrewism
which seemed to beset my poor friend, and caused him to make quite a
Tom-Fool of himself. Nothing would serve him but wriggling and skipping
about under and over every thing that came in his way; now shouting
out, and now lisping out, all manner of odd little and big words, yet
preserving the gravest face in the world all the time. I really could
not make up my mind whether to kick or to pity him. At length, having
passed nearly across the bridge, we approached the termination of the
footway, when our progress was impeded by a turnstile of some height.
Through this I made my way quietly, pushing it around as usual. But this
turn would not serve the turn of Mr. Dammit. He insisted upon leaping
the stile, and said he could cut a pigeon-wing over it in the air. Now
this, conscientiously speaking, I did not think he could do. The best
pigeon-winger over all kinds of style was my friend Mr. Carlyle, and as
I knew he could not do it, I would not believe that it could be done
by Toby Dammit. I therefore told him, in so many words, that he was a
braggadocio, and could not do what he said. For this I had reason to be
sorry afterward;--for he straightway offered to bet the Devil his head
that he could.

I was about to reply, notwithstanding my previous resolutions, with some
remonstrance against his impiety, when I heard, close at my elbow, a
slight cough, which sounded very much like the ejaculation "ahem! " I
started, and looked about me in surprise. My glance at length fell into
a nook of the frame--work of the bridge, and upon the figure of a little
lame old gentleman of venerable aspect. Nothing could be more reverend
than his whole appearance; for he not only had on a full suit of black,
but his shirt was perfectly clean and the collar turned very neatly down
over a white cravat, while his hair was parted in front like a girl's.
His hands were clasped pensively together over his stomach, and his two
eyes were carefully rolled up into the top of his head.

Upon observing him more closely, I perceived that he wore a black silk
apron over his small-clothes; and this was a thing which I thought very
odd. Before I had time to make any remark, however, upon so singular a
circumstance, he interrupted me with a second "ahem! "

To this observation I was not immediately prepared to reply. The fact
is, remarks of this laconic nature are nearly unanswerable. I have known
a Quarterly Review non-plussed by the word "Fudge! " I am not ashamed to
say, therefore, that I turned to Mr. Dammit for assistance.

"Dammit," said I, "what are you about? don't you hear? --the gentleman
says 'ahem! '" I looked sternly at my friend while I thus addressed him;
for, to say the truth, I felt particularly puzzled, and when a man is
particularly puzzled he must knit his brows and look savage, or else he
is pretty sure to look like a fool.

"Dammit," observed I--although this sounded very much like an oath, than
which nothing was further from my thoughts--"Dammit," I suggested--"the
gentleman says 'ahem! '"

I do not attempt to defend my remark on the score of profundity; I did
not think it profound myself; but I have noticed that the effect of our
speeches is not always proportionate with their importance in our own
eyes; and if I had shot Mr. D. through and through with a Paixhan bomb,
or knocked him in the head with the "Poets and Poetry of America," he
could hardly have been more discomfited than when I addressed him with
those simple words: "Dammit, what are you about? --don't you hear? --the
gentleman says 'ahem! '"

"You don't say so? " gasped he at length, after turning more colors than
a pirate runs up, one after the other, when chased by a man-of-war. "Are
you quite sure he said that? Well, at all events I am in for it now, and
may as well put a bold face upon the matter. Here goes, then--ahem! "

At this the little old gentleman seemed pleased--God only knows why.
He left his station at the nook of the bridge, limped forward with a
gracious air, took Dammit by the hand and shook it cordially,
looking all the while straight up in his face with an air of the most
unadulterated benignity which it is possible for the mind of man to
imagine.

"I am quite sure you will win it, Dammit," said he, with the frankest of
all smiles, "but we are obliged to have a trial, you know, for the sake
of mere form. "

"Ahem! " replied my friend, taking off his coat, with a deep sigh, tying
a pocket-handkerchief around his waist, and producing an unaccountable
alteration in his countenance by twisting up his eyes and bringing down
the corners of his mouth--"ahem! " And "ahem! " said he again, after a
pause; and not another word more than "ahem! " did I ever know him to say
after that. "Aha! " thought I, without expressing myself aloud--"this is
quite a remarkable silence on the part of Toby Dammit, and is no doubt
a consequence of his verbosity upon a previous occasion. One extreme
induces another. I wonder if he has forgotten the many unanswerable
questions which he propounded to me so fluently on the day when I gave
him my last lecture? At all events, he is cured of the transcendentals. "

"Ahem! " here replied Toby, just as if he had been reading my thoughts,
and looking like a very old sheep in a revery.

The old gentleman now took him by the arm, and led him more into the
shade of the bridge--a few paces back from the turnstile. "My good
fellow," said he, "I make it a point of conscience to allow you this
much run. Wait here, till I take my place by the stile, so that I may
see whether you go over it handsomely, and transcendentally, and don't
omit any flourishes of the pigeon-wing. A mere form, you know. I will
say 'one, two, three, and away. ' Mind you, start at the word 'away'"
Here he took his position by the stile, paused a moment as if in
profound reflection, then looked up and, I thought, smiled very
slightly, then tightened the strings of his apron, then took a long look
at Dammit, and finally gave the word as agreed upon-

_One--two--three--and--away! _

Punctually at the word "away," my poor friend set off in a strong
gallop. The stile was not very high, like Mr. Lord's--nor yet very low,
like that of Mr. Lord's reviewers, but upon the whole I made sure
that he would clear it. And then what if he did not? --ah, that was
the question--what if he did not? "What right," said I, "had the
old gentleman to make any other gentleman jump? The little old
dot-and-carry-one! who is he? If he asks me to jump, I won't do it,
that's flat, and I don't care who the devil he is. " The bridge, as I
say, was arched and covered in, in a very ridiculous manner, and there
was a most uncomfortable echo about it at all times--an echo which I
never before so particularly observed as when I uttered the four last
words of my remark.

But what I said, or what I thought, or what I heard, occupied only an
instant. In less than five seconds from his starting, my poor Toby had
taken the leap. I saw him run nimbly, and spring grandly from the floor
of the bridge, cutting the most awful flourishes with his legs as he
went up. I saw him high in the air, pigeon-winging it to admiration
just over the top of the stile; and of course I thought it an unusually
singular thing that he did not continue to go over. But the whole leap
was the affair of a moment, and, before I had a chance to make any
profound reflections, down came Mr. Dammit on the flat of his back,
on the same side of the stile from which he had started. At the same
instant I saw the old gentleman limping off at the top of his speed,
having caught and wrapt up in his apron something that fell heavily into
it from the darkness of the arch just over the turnstile. At all this
I was much astonished; but I had no leisure to think, for Dammit lay
particularly still, and I concluded that his feelings had been hurt, and
that he stood in need of my assistance. I hurried up to him and found
that he had received what might be termed a serious injury. The truth
is, he had been deprived of his head, which after a close search I could
not find anywhere; so I determined to take him home and send for the
homoeopathists. In the meantime a thought struck me, and I threw open
an adjacent window of the bridge, when the sad truth flashed upon me at
once. About five feet just above the top of the turnstile, and crossing
the arch of the foot-path so as to constitute a brace, there extended a
flat iron bar, lying with its breadth horizontally, and forming one of
a series that served to strengthen the structure throughout its extent.
With the edge of this brace it appeared evident that the neck of my
unfortunate friend had come precisely in contact.

He did not long survive his terrible loss. The homoeopathists did not
give him little enough physic, and what little they did give him he
hesitated to take. So in the end he grew worse, and at length died, a
lesson to all riotous livers. I bedewed his grave with my tears, worked
a bar sinister on his family escutcheon, and, for the general expenses
of his funeral, sent in my very moderate bill to the transcendentalists.
The scoundrels refused to pay it, so I had Mr. Dammit dug up at once,
and sold him for dog's meat.