The master
acknowledged
countless mercies.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v05 - Bro to Cai
»
## p. 3030 (#604) ###########################################
3030
GEORGE W. CABLE
A ribboned man in the arena is trying to be heard, and the
Latins raise one mighty cry for silence. The big red man gets
a hand over the parson's mouth, and the ribboned man seizes his
moment.
«They have been endeavoring for hours,” he says, "to draw
the terrible animals from their dens, but such is their strength
and fierceness, that — »
His voice is drowned. Enough has been heard to warrant the
inference that the beasts cannot be whipped out of the storm-
drenched cages to which menagerie-life and long starvation have
attached them, and from the roar of indignation the man of
ribbons flies. The noise increases. Men are standing up by
hundreds, and women are imploring to be let out of the tur-
moil. All at once, like the bursting of a dam, the whole mass
pours down into the ring. They sweep across the
arena and
over the showman's barriers. Miguel gets a frightful trampling.
Who cares for gates or doors? They tear the beasts' houses bar
from bar, and, laying hold of the gaunt buffalo, drag him forth
by feet, ears, and tail; and in the midst of the mêlée, still head
and shoulders above all, wilder, with the cup of the wicked, than
any beast, is the man of God from the Florida parishes!
In his arms he bore and all the people shouted at once
when they saw it - the tiger. He had lifted it high up with its
back to his breast, his arms clasped under its shoulders; the
wretched brute had curled up caterpillar-wise, with its long tail
against its belly, and through its filed teeth grinned a fixed and
impotent wrath. And Parson Jones was shouting: -
«The tiger and the buffler shell lay down together! You dah
to say they shayn't and I'll comb you with this varmint from
head to foot! The tiger and the buffler shell lay down together,
They shell! Now, you, Joe! Behold! I am here to see it done,
The lion and the buffler shell lay down together! ”
Mouthing these words again and again, the parson forced his
way through the surge in the wake of the buffalo.
This creature
the Latins had secured by a lariat over his head, and were drag-
ging across the old rampart and into a street of the city.
The Northern races were trying to prevent, and there was
pommeling and knocking down, cursing and knife-drawing, until
Jules St. -Ange was quite carried away with the fun, laughed,
clapped his hands, and swore with delight, and ever kept close
to the gallant parson.
>
## p. 3031 (#605) ###########################################
GEORGE W. CABLE
3031
Joe, contrariwise, counted all this child's-play an interruption.
He had come to find Colossus and the money. In an unlucky
moment he made bold to lay hold of the parson, but a piece of
the broken barriers in the hands of a flat-boatman felled him to
the sod, the terrible crowd swept over him, the lariat was cut,
and the giant parson hurled the tiger upon the buffalo's back.
In another instant both brutes were dead at the hands of the
mob; Jones was lifted from his feet, and prating of Scripture
and the millennium, of Paul at Ephesus and Daniel in the buf-
fier's ” den, was borne aloft upon the shoulders of the huzzaing
Américains Half an hour later he was sleeping heavily on the
floor of a cell in the calaboza.
When Parson Jones awoke, a bell was somewhere tolling for
midnight. Somebody was at the door of his cell with a key.
The lock grated, the door swung, the turnkey looked in and
stepped back, and a ray of moonlight fell upon M. Jules
St. -Ange. The prisoner sat upon the empty shackles and ring-
bolt in the centre of the floor.
“Misty Posson Jone',” said the visitor, softly.
«O Jools! "
Mais, w'at de matter, Posson Jone'? ”
“My sins, Jools, my sins! »
“Ah, Posson Jone', is that something to cry, because a man
get sometime a litt' bit intoxicate? Mais, if a man keep all the
time intoxicate, I think that is again' the conscien'. "
"Jools, Jools, your eyes is darkened - oh! Jools, where's my
pore old niggah ? ”
“Posson Jone', never min'; he is wid Baptiste. ”
«Where ? »
“I don' know w'ere – mais he is wid Baptiste. Baptiste is a
beautiful to take care of somebody. ”
"Is he as good as you, Jools? ” asked Parson Jones, sin.
cerely.
Jules was slightly staggered.
“You know, Posson Jone', you know, a nigger cannot be good
as a w'ite man — mais Baptiste is a good nigger. ”
The parson moaned and dropped his chin into his hands.
“I was to of left for home to-morrow, sun-up, on the Isa-
bella schooner. Pore Smyrny! ” He deeply sighed.
Posson Jone',” said Jules, leaning against the wall and smil-
ing, "I swear you is the moz funny man I ever see.
If I was
## p. 3032 (#606) ###########################################
3032
GEORGE W. CABLE
SO
can
sermon
you I would say, me, 'Ah! 'ow I am lucky! the money I los', it
was not mine, anyhow! My faith! shall a man make hisse'f to
be the more sorry because the money he los' is not his ?
Me, I
would say, 'It is a specious providence. '
“Ah! Misty Posson Jone',” he continued, “you make a
droll sermon ad the bull-ring. Ha! ha! I swear I thing you
make money to preach thad
many time ad the
theatre St. Philippe. Hah! you is the moz brave dat I never see,
mais ad the same time the moz rilligious man. Where I'm goin'
to fin' one priest to make like dat? Mais, why you can't cheer
up an' be 'appy ? Me, if I should be miserabl’ like that I would
kill meself. ”
The countryman only shook his head.
Bien, Posson Jone', I have the so good news for you. ”
The prisoner looked up with eager inquiry.
“Las' evening when they lock' you, I come right off at M.
De Blanc's house to get you let out of de calaboose; M. De
Blanc he is the judge. So soon I was entering – Ah! Jules,
me boy, juz the man to make complete the game! ) Posson
Jone', it was a specious providence! I win in t'ree hours more
dan six hundred dollah! Look. ” He produced a mass of bank-
notes, bons, and due-bills.
“And you got the pass? ” asked the parson, regarding the
money with a sadness incomprehensible to Jules.
“It is here; it take the effect so soon the daylight. ”
"Jools, my friend, your kindness is in vain. ”
The Creole's face became a perfect blank.
“Because," said the parson, "for two reasons: firstly, I have
broken the laws, and ought to stand the penalty; and secondly
- you must really excuse me, Jools, you know, but the pass has
been got onfairly, I'm afeerd. You told the judge I was inno-
cent; and in neither case it don't become a Christian (which I
hope I can still say I am one) to do evil that good may come. '
I muss stay. ”
M. St. -Ange stood up aghast, and for a moment speechless,
at this exhibition of moral heroism; but an artifice was presently
hit upon.
« Mais, Posson Jone'! ” - in his old falsetto--“de
order — you cannot read it, it is in French — compel you to go
hout, sir! »
“Is that so ? ” cried the parson, bounding up with radiant
face is that so, Jools ? "
## p. 3033 (#607) ###########################################
GEORGE W. CABLE
3033
The young man nodded, smiling; but though he smiled, the
fountain of his tenderness was opened. He made the sign of the
cross as the parson knelt in prayer, and even whispered Hail
Mary,” etc. , quite through, twice over.
Morning broke in
summer glory upon a cluster of villas
behind the city, nestled under live-oaks and magnolias on the
banks of a deep bayou, and known as Suburb St. Jean.
With the first beam came the West-Floridian and the Creole
out upon the bank below the village. Upon the parson's arm
hung a pair of antique saddle-bags. Baptiste limped wearily
behind; both his eyes were encircled with broad blue rings, and
one cheek-bone bore the official impress of every knuckle of
Colossus's left hand. The beautiful to take care of somebody
had lost his charge. At mention of the negro he became wild,
and half in English, half in the "gumbo” dialect, said mur-
derous things. Intimidated by Jules to calmness, he became able
to speak confidently on one point; he could, would, and did
swear that Colossus had gone home to the Florida parishes; he
was almost certain; in fact, he thought so.
There was a clicking of pulleys as the three appeared upon
the bayou's margin, and Baptiste pointed out, in the deep
shadow of a great oak, the Isabella, moored among the bulrushes,
and just spreading her sails for departure. Moving down to
where she lay, the parson and his friend paused on the bank,
loath to say farewell.
"O Jools! ” said the parson, "supposin' Colossus ain't gone
home! O Jools, if you'll look him out for me, I'll never forget
you - I'll never forget you, nohow, Jools. No, Jools, I never
will believe he taken that money. Yes, I know all niggahs will
steal» — he set foot
upon the gang-plank — “but Colossus
wouldn't steal from me. Good-by. ”
“Misty Posson Jone',” said St. -Ange, putting his hand on
the parson's arm with genuine affection, “hol' on. You see dis
money - w'at I win las' night? Well, I win' it by a specious
providence, ain't it ? »
« There's no tellin',” said the humbled Jones. Providence
(Moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform. ) »
«Ah ! cried the Creole, c'est very true. I ged this money
in the mysterieuze way. Mais, if I keep dis money, you know
where it goin' be to-night?
## p. 3034 (#608) ###########################################
GEORGE W. CABLE
3034
1
"I really can't say,” replied the parson.
«Goin' to de dev'," said the sweetly smiling young man.
The schooner-captain, leaning against the shrouds, and even
Baptiste, laughed outright.
"O Jools, you mustn't! ”
“Well, den, w'at I shall do wid it? »
"Anything! ” answered the parson; "better donate it away to
some poor man
“Ah! Misty Posson Jone', dat is w'at I want. You los' five
hondred dollar'—'twas me fault. ”
"No, it wa'n't, Jools.
Mais, it was! »
No! ”
« It was me fault! I swear it was me fault! Mais, here is
five hundred dollar'; I wish you shall take it. Here! I don't
got no use for money. – Oh my faith! Posson Jone', you must
not begin to cry some more. ”
Parson Jones was choked with tears. When he found voice
he said:
"O Jools, Jools, Jools! my pore, noble, dear, misguidened
friend! ef you hed of hed a Christian raisin'! May the Lord
show you your errors better'n I kin, and bless you for your good
intentions — oh, no! I cayn't touch that money with a ten-foot
pole; it wa’n't rightly got; you must really excuse me, my dear
friend, but I cayn't touch it. ”
St. -Ange was petrified.
"Good-by, dear Jools, continued the parson. “I'm in the
Lord's haynds, and he's very merciful, which I hope and trust
you'll find it out. Good-by! ”— the schooner swung slowly off
before the breeze-good-by! ”
St. -Ange roused himself. "Posson Jone'! make me hany'ow
dis promise: you never, never, never will come back to New
Orleans. ”
“Ah, Jools, the Lord willin', I'll never leave home again!
"All right! ” cried the Creole; "I thing he's willin'. Adieu,
Posson Jone'. My faith'! you are
the so fighting an' moz
rilligious man as I never saw! Adieu! Adieu! »
Baptiste uttered a cry and presently ran by his master toward
the schooner, his hands full of clods.
St. -Ange looked just in time to see the sable form of Colossus
of Rhodes emerge from the vessel's hold, and the pastor of
Smyrna and Bethesda seize him in his embrace.
1
1
## p. 3035 (#609) ###########################################
GEORGE W. CABLE
3035
"O Colossus! you outlandish old nigger! Thank the Lord!
Thank the Lord ! »
The little Creole almost wept. He ran down the tow-path,
laughing and swearing, and making confused allusion to the en-
tire personnel and furniture of the lower regions.
By odd fortune, at the moment that St. -Ange further demon-
strated his delight by tripping his mulatto into a bog, the
schooner came brushing along the reedy bank with a graceful
curve, the sails flapped, and the crew fell to poling her slowly
along
Parson Jones was on the deck, kneeling once more in prayer.
His hat had fallen before him; behind him knelt his slave. In
thundering tones he was confessing himself “a plum fool,” from
whom "the conceit had been jolted out, and who had been
made to see that even his nigger had the longest head of the
two. "
Colossus clasped his hands and groaned.
The parson prayed for a contrite heart.
"Oh, yes! » cried Colossus.
The master acknowledged countless mercies.
« Dat's so! » cried the slave.
The master prayed that they might still be “piled on. ”
“Glory! ” cried the black man, clapping his hands; "pile on! ”
“An' now,” continued the parson, “bring this pore, back-
slidin' jackace of a parson and this pore ole fool nigger back to
thar home in peace! ”
"Pray fo’ de money! » called Colossus.
But the parson prayed for Jules.
Pray fo’ de money! ”repeated the negro.
« And oh, give thy servant back that there lost money! ”
Colossus rose stealthily, and tiptoed by his still shouting mas-
ter. St. -Ange, the captain, the crew, gazed in silent wonder at
the strategist. Pausing but an instant over the master's hat to
grin an acknowledgment of his beholders' speechless interest, he
softly placed in it the faithfully mourned and honestly prayed-for
Smyrna fund; then, saluted by the gesticulative, silent applause
of St. -Ange and the schooner-men, he resumed his first attitude
behind his roaring master.
“Amen! ” cried Colossus, meaning to bring him to a close.
“Onworthy though I be — cried Jones.
« Amen! » reiterated the negro.
## p. 3036 (#610) ###########################################
3036
GEORGE W. CABLE
"A-a-amen! ” said Parson Jones.
He rose to his feet, and, stooping to take up his hat, beheld
the well-known roll. As one stunned, he gazed for a moment
upon his slave, who still knelt with clasped hands and rolling
eyeballs; but when he became aware of the laughter and cheers
that greeted him from both deck and shore, he lifted eyes and
hands to heaven, and cried like the veriest babe. And when he
looked at the roll again, and hugged and kissed it, St. -Ange
tried to raise a second shout, but choked, and the crew fell to
their poles.
And now up runs Baptiste, covered with slime, and prepares
to cast his projectiles. The first one fell wide of the mark; the
schooner swung round into a long reach of water, where the
breeze was in her favor; another shout of laughter drowned
the maledictions of the muddy man; the sails filled; Colossus of
Rhodes, smiling and bowing as hero of the moment, ducked as
the main boom swept round, and the schooner, leaning slightly
to the pleasant influence, rustled a moment over the bulrushes,
and then sped far away down the rippling bayou.
M. Jules St. -Ange stood long, gazing at the receding vessel
as it now disappeared, now reappeared beyond the tops of the
high undergrowth; but when an arm of the forest hid it finally
from sight, he turned townward, followed by that fagged-out
spaniel his servant, saying as he turned, “Baptiste ? ”
Miché?
“You know w'at I goin' do wid dis money ? ”
"Non, m'sicur. ”
“Well, you can strike me dead if I don't goin' to pay hall my
debts! Allons ! »
He began a merry little song to the effect that his sweetheart
a wine-bottle, and master and man, leaving care behind,
returned to the picturesque Rue Royale. The ways of Providence
are indeed strange. In all Parson Jones's after-life, amid the
many painful reminiscences of his visit to the City of the Plain,
the sweet knowledge was withheld from him that by the light of
the Christian virtue that shone from him even in his great fall,
Jules St. -Ange arose, and went to his father an honest man.
was
## p. 3036 (#611) ###########################################
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## p. 3036 (#612) ###########################################
JULIUS CÆSAR.
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## p. 3036 (#614) ###########################################
## p. 3037 (#615) ###########################################
3037
CAIUS JULIUS CÆSAR
(100-44 B. C. )
BY J. H. WESTCOTT
seen.
RULY a wonderful man was Caius Julius Cæsar,” says Captain
Miles Standish. Truly wonderful he was on each of his
many sides: as soldier, statesman, orator, and author, all of
the first rank — and a respectable critic, man of science and poet
besides.
As a writer of Latin prose, and as an orator, he was second to
Cicero alone in the age that is called the Ciceronian; and no third is
to be named with these two. Yet among his contemporaries his lit-
erary power was an insignificant title to fame, compared with his
overwhelming military and political genius. Here he stood alone,
unrivaled, the most successful conqueror and civilizer of all history,
the founder of the most majestic political fabric the world has ever
There have been other generals, statesmen, authors, as great
as Cæsar; but the extraordinary combination of powers in this one
man goes very far toward making good the claim that he was the
most remarkable man in history.
He was born 100 B. C. , a member of the great Julian gens, which
claimed descent from Æneas and Venus, the glories of which are
celebrated in Vergil's immortal epic. Thus the future leader of the
turbulent democracy, and the future despot who was to humble the
nobles of Rome, was by birth an aristocrat of bluest blood. His life
might easily have come to an untimely end in the days of Sulla's
bloody ascendency, for he was connected by marriage with Marius
and Cinna. Sulla was persuaded to spare him, but clearly saw, even
then, that «in Cæsar there were many Mariuses. ”
All young Romans of rank were expected to go through a term
of at least nominal military service. Cæsar's apprenticeship was in
Asia Minor in 8o B. C. He distinguished himself at the storming of
Mytilene, and afterwards served in Cilicia. He began his political
and oratorical career by the prosecution of Cornelius Dolabella, one
of the nobility, on a charge of extortion. About 75 B. C. he was
continuing his studies at Rhodes, then a famous school of eloquence.
Obtaining the quæstorship in 67 B. C. , he was assigned to duty in the
province of Further Spain. Two years later he became ædile. At
the age of thirty-seven he was elected pontifex maximus over two
>>>
## p. 3038 (#616) ###########################################
3038
CAIUS JULIUS CÆSAR
powerful competitors. Entirely without religious belief, as far as we
can judge, he recognized the importance of this portion of the civil
order, and mastered the intricate lore of the established ceremonial.
In this office, which he held for life, he busied himself with a Digest
of the Auspices and wrote an essay on Divination.
After filling the prætorship in 62 B. C. , he obtained, as proprætor,
the governorship of his old province of Further Spain, which he was
destined to visit twice in later years as conqueror in civil war. His
military success at this time against the native tribes was such as to
entitle him to the honor of a triumph. This he was obliged to forego
in order to stand at once for the consulship, which office he held for
the year 59 B. C. He had previously entered into a private agree-
ment with Pompey and Crassus, known as the First Triumvirate.
Cæsar had always presented himself as the friend of the people;
Pompey was the most famous man of the time, covered with military
laurels, and regarded, though not with perfect confidence, as the
champion of the Senatorial party. Crassus, a man of ordinary ability,
was valuable to the other two on account of his enormous wealth.
These three men agreed to unite their interests and their influence.
In accordance with this arrangement Cæsar obtained the consulship,
and then the command for five years, afterward extended to ten, of
the provinces of Gaul and Illyricum. It was while proconsul of Gaul
in the years 58-50 B. C. that he subjugated and organized «All Gaul,”
which was far greater in extent than the country which is now
France; increased his own political and material resources; and above
all formed an army, the most highly trained and efficient the world
had yet seen, entirely faithful to himself, by means of which he was
able in the years 49-46 B. C. to defeat all his political antagonists and
to gain absolute power over the State.
He held the consulship again in 48 and 46 B. C. , and was consul
without a colleague in 45 and 44 B. C. , as well as dictator with
authority to remodel the Constitution. While his far-reaching plans
of organization and improvement were incomplete, and when he was
about to start upon a
war against the Parthians on the eastern
frontier of the empire, he was murdered March 15th, 44 B. C. , by a
band of conspirators headed by Brutus and Cassius.
For purposes of a literary judgment of Cæsar we have of his own
works in complete or nearly complete form his military memoirs
only. His specifically literary works have all perished. A few sen-
tences from his speeches, a few of his letters, a few wise or witty
sayings, an anecdote or two scattered about in the pages of other
authors, and six lines of hexameter verse, containing a critical esti-
mate of the dramatist Terence, are all that remain as specimens of
what is probably forever lost to us.
## p. 3039 (#617) ###########################################
CAIUS JULIUS CÆSAR
3039
we
An enumeration of his works, so far as their titles are known, is
the best evidence of his versatility. A bit of criticism here and
there shows the estimation in which Cæsar the writer and orator was
held by his countrymen and contemporaries. Besides the military
memoirs and the works spoken of above in connection with his
pontificate, may mention, as of a semi-official character, his
astronomical treatise On the Stars (De Astris), published in connec-
tion with his reform of the calendar, when dictator, shortly before
the end of his life.
Cicero alludes to a collection of witty sayings (Apophthegms) made
by Cæsar, with evident satisfaction at the latter's ability to distin-
guish the real and the false Ciceronian bons mots.
Like most Roman gentlemen, Cæsar wrote in youth several poems,
of which Tacitus grimly says that they were not better than Cice-
ro's. This list includes a tragedy, Edipus,' Laudes Herculis) (the
Praises of Hercules), and a metrical account of a journey into Spain
(Iter).
A grammatical treatise in two books (De Analogia), dedicated to
Cicero, to the latter's immense gratification, was written on one of the
numerous swift journeys from Italy to headquarters in Gaul. Pas-
sages from it are quoted by several subsequent writers, and an anec-
dote preserved by Aulus Gellius in his Noctes Atticæ I. 10. 4, wherein
a young man is warned by Cæsar to avoid unusual and far-fetched
language like a rock,” is supposed to be very characteristic of his
general attitude in matters of literary taste. The (Anticatones) were
a couple of political pamphlets ridiculing Cato, the idol of the repub-
licans. This was small business for Cæsar, but Cato had taken
rather mean advantage by his dramatic suicide at Utica, and
deprived Cæsar of the "pleasure of pardoning him. ”
Of Cæsar's orations we have none but the most insignificant frag-
ments — our judgment of them must be based on the testimony of
ancient critics. Quintilian speaks in the same paragraph (Quin-
tilian X. I, 114) of the wonderful elegance of his language and
of the “force” which made it “seem that he spoke with the same
spirit with which he fought. ” Cicero's phrase "magnifica et generosa”
(Cicero, Brutus, 261), and Fronto's "facultas dicendi imperatoria”
(Fronto, Ep. p. 123), indicate « some kind of severe magnificence. ”
Collections of his letters were extant in the second century, but
nothing now remains except a few brief notes to Cicero, copied by
the latter in his correspondence with Atticus. This loss is perhaps
the one most to be regretted. Letters reveal their author's person-
ality better than more formal species of composition, and Cæsar was
almost the last real letter-writer, the last who used in its perfection
the polished, cultivated, conversational language, the Sermo urbanus.
## p. 3040 (#618) ###########################################
3040
CAIUS JULIUS CÆSAR
But after all, we possess the most important of his writings,
the Commentaries on the Gallic and Civil Wars. The first may be
considered as a formal report to the Senate and the public on the
conduct of his Gallic campaigns; the latter, as primarily intended
for a defense of his constitutional position in the Civil War.
They are memoirs, half way between private notes and formal
history. Cicero says that while their author «desired to give others
the material out of which to create a history, he may perhaps have
done a kindness to conceited writers who wish to trick them out
with meretricious graces” (to "crimp with curling-irons "), but he
has deterred all men of sound taste from ever touching them. For
in history a pure and brilliant conciseness of style is the highest
attainable beauty. ” “They are worthy of all praise, for they are
simple, straightforward and elegant, with all rhetorical ornament
stripped from them as a garment is stripped. ” (Cicero, Brutus, 262. )
The seven books of the Gallic War are each the account of a
year's campaigning. They were written apparently in winter quar-
ters. When Cæsar entered on the administration of his province it
was threatened with invasion. The Romans had never lost their
dread of the northern barbarians, no orgotten the capture of Rome
three centuries before. Only a generation back, Marius had become
the national hero by destroying the invading hordes of Cimbri and
Teutones. Cæsar purposed to make the barbarians tremble at the
Roman name. This first book of the Commentaries tells how he
raised an army in haste, with which he outmarched, outmanæuvred
and defeated the Helvetian nation. This people, urged by pressure
behind and encouragement in front, had determined to leave its old
home in the Alpine valleys and to settle in the fairer regions of
southeastern France. Surprised and dismayed by Cæsar's terrific
reception of their supposed invincible host, they had to choose between
utter destruction and a tame return, with sadly diminished numbers,
to their old abodes. Nor was this all the work of the first year.
Ariovistus, a German king, also invited by a Gallic tribe, and rely-
ing on the terror of his nation's name, came to establish himself and
his people on the Gallic side of the Rhine. He too was astonished
at the tone with which Cæsar ordered him to depart, but soon found
himself forced to return far more quickly than he had come.
Having thus vindicated the Roman claim to the frontiers of Gaul
against other invaders, the proconsul devoted his second summer to
the subjugation of the Belgæ, the most warlike and the most remote
of the Gauls. The second book tells how this was accomplished.
There was one moment when the conqueror's career came near end-
ing prematurely.
## p. 3030 (#604) ###########################################
3030
GEORGE W. CABLE
A ribboned man in the arena is trying to be heard, and the
Latins raise one mighty cry for silence. The big red man gets
a hand over the parson's mouth, and the ribboned man seizes his
moment.
«They have been endeavoring for hours,” he says, "to draw
the terrible animals from their dens, but such is their strength
and fierceness, that — »
His voice is drowned. Enough has been heard to warrant the
inference that the beasts cannot be whipped out of the storm-
drenched cages to which menagerie-life and long starvation have
attached them, and from the roar of indignation the man of
ribbons flies. The noise increases. Men are standing up by
hundreds, and women are imploring to be let out of the tur-
moil. All at once, like the bursting of a dam, the whole mass
pours down into the ring. They sweep across the
arena and
over the showman's barriers. Miguel gets a frightful trampling.
Who cares for gates or doors? They tear the beasts' houses bar
from bar, and, laying hold of the gaunt buffalo, drag him forth
by feet, ears, and tail; and in the midst of the mêlée, still head
and shoulders above all, wilder, with the cup of the wicked, than
any beast, is the man of God from the Florida parishes!
In his arms he bore and all the people shouted at once
when they saw it - the tiger. He had lifted it high up with its
back to his breast, his arms clasped under its shoulders; the
wretched brute had curled up caterpillar-wise, with its long tail
against its belly, and through its filed teeth grinned a fixed and
impotent wrath. And Parson Jones was shouting: -
«The tiger and the buffler shell lay down together! You dah
to say they shayn't and I'll comb you with this varmint from
head to foot! The tiger and the buffler shell lay down together,
They shell! Now, you, Joe! Behold! I am here to see it done,
The lion and the buffler shell lay down together! ”
Mouthing these words again and again, the parson forced his
way through the surge in the wake of the buffalo.
This creature
the Latins had secured by a lariat over his head, and were drag-
ging across the old rampart and into a street of the city.
The Northern races were trying to prevent, and there was
pommeling and knocking down, cursing and knife-drawing, until
Jules St. -Ange was quite carried away with the fun, laughed,
clapped his hands, and swore with delight, and ever kept close
to the gallant parson.
>
## p. 3031 (#605) ###########################################
GEORGE W. CABLE
3031
Joe, contrariwise, counted all this child's-play an interruption.
He had come to find Colossus and the money. In an unlucky
moment he made bold to lay hold of the parson, but a piece of
the broken barriers in the hands of a flat-boatman felled him to
the sod, the terrible crowd swept over him, the lariat was cut,
and the giant parson hurled the tiger upon the buffalo's back.
In another instant both brutes were dead at the hands of the
mob; Jones was lifted from his feet, and prating of Scripture
and the millennium, of Paul at Ephesus and Daniel in the buf-
fier's ” den, was borne aloft upon the shoulders of the huzzaing
Américains Half an hour later he was sleeping heavily on the
floor of a cell in the calaboza.
When Parson Jones awoke, a bell was somewhere tolling for
midnight. Somebody was at the door of his cell with a key.
The lock grated, the door swung, the turnkey looked in and
stepped back, and a ray of moonlight fell upon M. Jules
St. -Ange. The prisoner sat upon the empty shackles and ring-
bolt in the centre of the floor.
“Misty Posson Jone',” said the visitor, softly.
«O Jools! "
Mais, w'at de matter, Posson Jone'? ”
“My sins, Jools, my sins! »
“Ah, Posson Jone', is that something to cry, because a man
get sometime a litt' bit intoxicate? Mais, if a man keep all the
time intoxicate, I think that is again' the conscien'. "
"Jools, Jools, your eyes is darkened - oh! Jools, where's my
pore old niggah ? ”
“Posson Jone', never min'; he is wid Baptiste. ”
«Where ? »
“I don' know w'ere – mais he is wid Baptiste. Baptiste is a
beautiful to take care of somebody. ”
"Is he as good as you, Jools? ” asked Parson Jones, sin.
cerely.
Jules was slightly staggered.
“You know, Posson Jone', you know, a nigger cannot be good
as a w'ite man — mais Baptiste is a good nigger. ”
The parson moaned and dropped his chin into his hands.
“I was to of left for home to-morrow, sun-up, on the Isa-
bella schooner. Pore Smyrny! ” He deeply sighed.
Posson Jone',” said Jules, leaning against the wall and smil-
ing, "I swear you is the moz funny man I ever see.
If I was
## p. 3032 (#606) ###########################################
3032
GEORGE W. CABLE
SO
can
sermon
you I would say, me, 'Ah! 'ow I am lucky! the money I los', it
was not mine, anyhow! My faith! shall a man make hisse'f to
be the more sorry because the money he los' is not his ?
Me, I
would say, 'It is a specious providence. '
“Ah! Misty Posson Jone',” he continued, “you make a
droll sermon ad the bull-ring. Ha! ha! I swear I thing you
make money to preach thad
many time ad the
theatre St. Philippe. Hah! you is the moz brave dat I never see,
mais ad the same time the moz rilligious man. Where I'm goin'
to fin' one priest to make like dat? Mais, why you can't cheer
up an' be 'appy ? Me, if I should be miserabl’ like that I would
kill meself. ”
The countryman only shook his head.
Bien, Posson Jone', I have the so good news for you. ”
The prisoner looked up with eager inquiry.
“Las' evening when they lock' you, I come right off at M.
De Blanc's house to get you let out of de calaboose; M. De
Blanc he is the judge. So soon I was entering – Ah! Jules,
me boy, juz the man to make complete the game! ) Posson
Jone', it was a specious providence! I win in t'ree hours more
dan six hundred dollah! Look. ” He produced a mass of bank-
notes, bons, and due-bills.
“And you got the pass? ” asked the parson, regarding the
money with a sadness incomprehensible to Jules.
“It is here; it take the effect so soon the daylight. ”
"Jools, my friend, your kindness is in vain. ”
The Creole's face became a perfect blank.
“Because," said the parson, "for two reasons: firstly, I have
broken the laws, and ought to stand the penalty; and secondly
- you must really excuse me, Jools, you know, but the pass has
been got onfairly, I'm afeerd. You told the judge I was inno-
cent; and in neither case it don't become a Christian (which I
hope I can still say I am one) to do evil that good may come. '
I muss stay. ”
M. St. -Ange stood up aghast, and for a moment speechless,
at this exhibition of moral heroism; but an artifice was presently
hit upon.
« Mais, Posson Jone'! ” - in his old falsetto--“de
order — you cannot read it, it is in French — compel you to go
hout, sir! »
“Is that so ? ” cried the parson, bounding up with radiant
face is that so, Jools ? "
## p. 3033 (#607) ###########################################
GEORGE W. CABLE
3033
The young man nodded, smiling; but though he smiled, the
fountain of his tenderness was opened. He made the sign of the
cross as the parson knelt in prayer, and even whispered Hail
Mary,” etc. , quite through, twice over.
Morning broke in
summer glory upon a cluster of villas
behind the city, nestled under live-oaks and magnolias on the
banks of a deep bayou, and known as Suburb St. Jean.
With the first beam came the West-Floridian and the Creole
out upon the bank below the village. Upon the parson's arm
hung a pair of antique saddle-bags. Baptiste limped wearily
behind; both his eyes were encircled with broad blue rings, and
one cheek-bone bore the official impress of every knuckle of
Colossus's left hand. The beautiful to take care of somebody
had lost his charge. At mention of the negro he became wild,
and half in English, half in the "gumbo” dialect, said mur-
derous things. Intimidated by Jules to calmness, he became able
to speak confidently on one point; he could, would, and did
swear that Colossus had gone home to the Florida parishes; he
was almost certain; in fact, he thought so.
There was a clicking of pulleys as the three appeared upon
the bayou's margin, and Baptiste pointed out, in the deep
shadow of a great oak, the Isabella, moored among the bulrushes,
and just spreading her sails for departure. Moving down to
where she lay, the parson and his friend paused on the bank,
loath to say farewell.
"O Jools! ” said the parson, "supposin' Colossus ain't gone
home! O Jools, if you'll look him out for me, I'll never forget
you - I'll never forget you, nohow, Jools. No, Jools, I never
will believe he taken that money. Yes, I know all niggahs will
steal» — he set foot
upon the gang-plank — “but Colossus
wouldn't steal from me. Good-by. ”
“Misty Posson Jone',” said St. -Ange, putting his hand on
the parson's arm with genuine affection, “hol' on. You see dis
money - w'at I win las' night? Well, I win' it by a specious
providence, ain't it ? »
« There's no tellin',” said the humbled Jones. Providence
(Moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform. ) »
«Ah ! cried the Creole, c'est very true. I ged this money
in the mysterieuze way. Mais, if I keep dis money, you know
where it goin' be to-night?
## p. 3034 (#608) ###########################################
GEORGE W. CABLE
3034
1
"I really can't say,” replied the parson.
«Goin' to de dev'," said the sweetly smiling young man.
The schooner-captain, leaning against the shrouds, and even
Baptiste, laughed outright.
"O Jools, you mustn't! ”
“Well, den, w'at I shall do wid it? »
"Anything! ” answered the parson; "better donate it away to
some poor man
“Ah! Misty Posson Jone', dat is w'at I want. You los' five
hondred dollar'—'twas me fault. ”
"No, it wa'n't, Jools.
Mais, it was! »
No! ”
« It was me fault! I swear it was me fault! Mais, here is
five hundred dollar'; I wish you shall take it. Here! I don't
got no use for money. – Oh my faith! Posson Jone', you must
not begin to cry some more. ”
Parson Jones was choked with tears. When he found voice
he said:
"O Jools, Jools, Jools! my pore, noble, dear, misguidened
friend! ef you hed of hed a Christian raisin'! May the Lord
show you your errors better'n I kin, and bless you for your good
intentions — oh, no! I cayn't touch that money with a ten-foot
pole; it wa’n't rightly got; you must really excuse me, my dear
friend, but I cayn't touch it. ”
St. -Ange was petrified.
"Good-by, dear Jools, continued the parson. “I'm in the
Lord's haynds, and he's very merciful, which I hope and trust
you'll find it out. Good-by! ”— the schooner swung slowly off
before the breeze-good-by! ”
St. -Ange roused himself. "Posson Jone'! make me hany'ow
dis promise: you never, never, never will come back to New
Orleans. ”
“Ah, Jools, the Lord willin', I'll never leave home again!
"All right! ” cried the Creole; "I thing he's willin'. Adieu,
Posson Jone'. My faith'! you are
the so fighting an' moz
rilligious man as I never saw! Adieu! Adieu! »
Baptiste uttered a cry and presently ran by his master toward
the schooner, his hands full of clods.
St. -Ange looked just in time to see the sable form of Colossus
of Rhodes emerge from the vessel's hold, and the pastor of
Smyrna and Bethesda seize him in his embrace.
1
1
## p. 3035 (#609) ###########################################
GEORGE W. CABLE
3035
"O Colossus! you outlandish old nigger! Thank the Lord!
Thank the Lord ! »
The little Creole almost wept. He ran down the tow-path,
laughing and swearing, and making confused allusion to the en-
tire personnel and furniture of the lower regions.
By odd fortune, at the moment that St. -Ange further demon-
strated his delight by tripping his mulatto into a bog, the
schooner came brushing along the reedy bank with a graceful
curve, the sails flapped, and the crew fell to poling her slowly
along
Parson Jones was on the deck, kneeling once more in prayer.
His hat had fallen before him; behind him knelt his slave. In
thundering tones he was confessing himself “a plum fool,” from
whom "the conceit had been jolted out, and who had been
made to see that even his nigger had the longest head of the
two. "
Colossus clasped his hands and groaned.
The parson prayed for a contrite heart.
"Oh, yes! » cried Colossus.
The master acknowledged countless mercies.
« Dat's so! » cried the slave.
The master prayed that they might still be “piled on. ”
“Glory! ” cried the black man, clapping his hands; "pile on! ”
“An' now,” continued the parson, “bring this pore, back-
slidin' jackace of a parson and this pore ole fool nigger back to
thar home in peace! ”
"Pray fo’ de money! » called Colossus.
But the parson prayed for Jules.
Pray fo’ de money! ”repeated the negro.
« And oh, give thy servant back that there lost money! ”
Colossus rose stealthily, and tiptoed by his still shouting mas-
ter. St. -Ange, the captain, the crew, gazed in silent wonder at
the strategist. Pausing but an instant over the master's hat to
grin an acknowledgment of his beholders' speechless interest, he
softly placed in it the faithfully mourned and honestly prayed-for
Smyrna fund; then, saluted by the gesticulative, silent applause
of St. -Ange and the schooner-men, he resumed his first attitude
behind his roaring master.
“Amen! ” cried Colossus, meaning to bring him to a close.
“Onworthy though I be — cried Jones.
« Amen! » reiterated the negro.
## p. 3036 (#610) ###########################################
3036
GEORGE W. CABLE
"A-a-amen! ” said Parson Jones.
He rose to his feet, and, stooping to take up his hat, beheld
the well-known roll. As one stunned, he gazed for a moment
upon his slave, who still knelt with clasped hands and rolling
eyeballs; but when he became aware of the laughter and cheers
that greeted him from both deck and shore, he lifted eyes and
hands to heaven, and cried like the veriest babe. And when he
looked at the roll again, and hugged and kissed it, St. -Ange
tried to raise a second shout, but choked, and the crew fell to
their poles.
And now up runs Baptiste, covered with slime, and prepares
to cast his projectiles. The first one fell wide of the mark; the
schooner swung round into a long reach of water, where the
breeze was in her favor; another shout of laughter drowned
the maledictions of the muddy man; the sails filled; Colossus of
Rhodes, smiling and bowing as hero of the moment, ducked as
the main boom swept round, and the schooner, leaning slightly
to the pleasant influence, rustled a moment over the bulrushes,
and then sped far away down the rippling bayou.
M. Jules St. -Ange stood long, gazing at the receding vessel
as it now disappeared, now reappeared beyond the tops of the
high undergrowth; but when an arm of the forest hid it finally
from sight, he turned townward, followed by that fagged-out
spaniel his servant, saying as he turned, “Baptiste ? ”
Miché?
“You know w'at I goin' do wid dis money ? ”
"Non, m'sicur. ”
“Well, you can strike me dead if I don't goin' to pay hall my
debts! Allons ! »
He began a merry little song to the effect that his sweetheart
a wine-bottle, and master and man, leaving care behind,
returned to the picturesque Rue Royale. The ways of Providence
are indeed strange. In all Parson Jones's after-life, amid the
many painful reminiscences of his visit to the City of the Plain,
the sweet knowledge was withheld from him that by the light of
the Christian virtue that shone from him even in his great fall,
Jules St. -Ange arose, and went to his father an honest man.
was
## p. 3036 (#611) ###########################################
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## p. 3036 (#612) ###########################################
JULIUS CÆSAR.
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## p. 3036 (#614) ###########################################
## p. 3037 (#615) ###########################################
3037
CAIUS JULIUS CÆSAR
(100-44 B. C. )
BY J. H. WESTCOTT
seen.
RULY a wonderful man was Caius Julius Cæsar,” says Captain
Miles Standish. Truly wonderful he was on each of his
many sides: as soldier, statesman, orator, and author, all of
the first rank — and a respectable critic, man of science and poet
besides.
As a writer of Latin prose, and as an orator, he was second to
Cicero alone in the age that is called the Ciceronian; and no third is
to be named with these two. Yet among his contemporaries his lit-
erary power was an insignificant title to fame, compared with his
overwhelming military and political genius. Here he stood alone,
unrivaled, the most successful conqueror and civilizer of all history,
the founder of the most majestic political fabric the world has ever
There have been other generals, statesmen, authors, as great
as Cæsar; but the extraordinary combination of powers in this one
man goes very far toward making good the claim that he was the
most remarkable man in history.
He was born 100 B. C. , a member of the great Julian gens, which
claimed descent from Æneas and Venus, the glories of which are
celebrated in Vergil's immortal epic. Thus the future leader of the
turbulent democracy, and the future despot who was to humble the
nobles of Rome, was by birth an aristocrat of bluest blood. His life
might easily have come to an untimely end in the days of Sulla's
bloody ascendency, for he was connected by marriage with Marius
and Cinna. Sulla was persuaded to spare him, but clearly saw, even
then, that «in Cæsar there were many Mariuses. ”
All young Romans of rank were expected to go through a term
of at least nominal military service. Cæsar's apprenticeship was in
Asia Minor in 8o B. C. He distinguished himself at the storming of
Mytilene, and afterwards served in Cilicia. He began his political
and oratorical career by the prosecution of Cornelius Dolabella, one
of the nobility, on a charge of extortion. About 75 B. C. he was
continuing his studies at Rhodes, then a famous school of eloquence.
Obtaining the quæstorship in 67 B. C. , he was assigned to duty in the
province of Further Spain. Two years later he became ædile. At
the age of thirty-seven he was elected pontifex maximus over two
>>>
## p. 3038 (#616) ###########################################
3038
CAIUS JULIUS CÆSAR
powerful competitors. Entirely without religious belief, as far as we
can judge, he recognized the importance of this portion of the civil
order, and mastered the intricate lore of the established ceremonial.
In this office, which he held for life, he busied himself with a Digest
of the Auspices and wrote an essay on Divination.
After filling the prætorship in 62 B. C. , he obtained, as proprætor,
the governorship of his old province of Further Spain, which he was
destined to visit twice in later years as conqueror in civil war. His
military success at this time against the native tribes was such as to
entitle him to the honor of a triumph. This he was obliged to forego
in order to stand at once for the consulship, which office he held for
the year 59 B. C. He had previously entered into a private agree-
ment with Pompey and Crassus, known as the First Triumvirate.
Cæsar had always presented himself as the friend of the people;
Pompey was the most famous man of the time, covered with military
laurels, and regarded, though not with perfect confidence, as the
champion of the Senatorial party. Crassus, a man of ordinary ability,
was valuable to the other two on account of his enormous wealth.
These three men agreed to unite their interests and their influence.
In accordance with this arrangement Cæsar obtained the consulship,
and then the command for five years, afterward extended to ten, of
the provinces of Gaul and Illyricum. It was while proconsul of Gaul
in the years 58-50 B. C. that he subjugated and organized «All Gaul,”
which was far greater in extent than the country which is now
France; increased his own political and material resources; and above
all formed an army, the most highly trained and efficient the world
had yet seen, entirely faithful to himself, by means of which he was
able in the years 49-46 B. C. to defeat all his political antagonists and
to gain absolute power over the State.
He held the consulship again in 48 and 46 B. C. , and was consul
without a colleague in 45 and 44 B. C. , as well as dictator with
authority to remodel the Constitution. While his far-reaching plans
of organization and improvement were incomplete, and when he was
about to start upon a
war against the Parthians on the eastern
frontier of the empire, he was murdered March 15th, 44 B. C. , by a
band of conspirators headed by Brutus and Cassius.
For purposes of a literary judgment of Cæsar we have of his own
works in complete or nearly complete form his military memoirs
only. His specifically literary works have all perished. A few sen-
tences from his speeches, a few of his letters, a few wise or witty
sayings, an anecdote or two scattered about in the pages of other
authors, and six lines of hexameter verse, containing a critical esti-
mate of the dramatist Terence, are all that remain as specimens of
what is probably forever lost to us.
## p. 3039 (#617) ###########################################
CAIUS JULIUS CÆSAR
3039
we
An enumeration of his works, so far as their titles are known, is
the best evidence of his versatility. A bit of criticism here and
there shows the estimation in which Cæsar the writer and orator was
held by his countrymen and contemporaries. Besides the military
memoirs and the works spoken of above in connection with his
pontificate, may mention, as of a semi-official character, his
astronomical treatise On the Stars (De Astris), published in connec-
tion with his reform of the calendar, when dictator, shortly before
the end of his life.
Cicero alludes to a collection of witty sayings (Apophthegms) made
by Cæsar, with evident satisfaction at the latter's ability to distin-
guish the real and the false Ciceronian bons mots.
Like most Roman gentlemen, Cæsar wrote in youth several poems,
of which Tacitus grimly says that they were not better than Cice-
ro's. This list includes a tragedy, Edipus,' Laudes Herculis) (the
Praises of Hercules), and a metrical account of a journey into Spain
(Iter).
A grammatical treatise in two books (De Analogia), dedicated to
Cicero, to the latter's immense gratification, was written on one of the
numerous swift journeys from Italy to headquarters in Gaul. Pas-
sages from it are quoted by several subsequent writers, and an anec-
dote preserved by Aulus Gellius in his Noctes Atticæ I. 10. 4, wherein
a young man is warned by Cæsar to avoid unusual and far-fetched
language like a rock,” is supposed to be very characteristic of his
general attitude in matters of literary taste. The (Anticatones) were
a couple of political pamphlets ridiculing Cato, the idol of the repub-
licans. This was small business for Cæsar, but Cato had taken
rather mean advantage by his dramatic suicide at Utica, and
deprived Cæsar of the "pleasure of pardoning him. ”
Of Cæsar's orations we have none but the most insignificant frag-
ments — our judgment of them must be based on the testimony of
ancient critics. Quintilian speaks in the same paragraph (Quin-
tilian X. I, 114) of the wonderful elegance of his language and
of the “force” which made it “seem that he spoke with the same
spirit with which he fought. ” Cicero's phrase "magnifica et generosa”
(Cicero, Brutus, 261), and Fronto's "facultas dicendi imperatoria”
(Fronto, Ep. p. 123), indicate « some kind of severe magnificence. ”
Collections of his letters were extant in the second century, but
nothing now remains except a few brief notes to Cicero, copied by
the latter in his correspondence with Atticus. This loss is perhaps
the one most to be regretted. Letters reveal their author's person-
ality better than more formal species of composition, and Cæsar was
almost the last real letter-writer, the last who used in its perfection
the polished, cultivated, conversational language, the Sermo urbanus.
## p. 3040 (#618) ###########################################
3040
CAIUS JULIUS CÆSAR
But after all, we possess the most important of his writings,
the Commentaries on the Gallic and Civil Wars. The first may be
considered as a formal report to the Senate and the public on the
conduct of his Gallic campaigns; the latter, as primarily intended
for a defense of his constitutional position in the Civil War.
They are memoirs, half way between private notes and formal
history. Cicero says that while their author «desired to give others
the material out of which to create a history, he may perhaps have
done a kindness to conceited writers who wish to trick them out
with meretricious graces” (to "crimp with curling-irons "), but he
has deterred all men of sound taste from ever touching them. For
in history a pure and brilliant conciseness of style is the highest
attainable beauty. ” “They are worthy of all praise, for they are
simple, straightforward and elegant, with all rhetorical ornament
stripped from them as a garment is stripped. ” (Cicero, Brutus, 262. )
The seven books of the Gallic War are each the account of a
year's campaigning. They were written apparently in winter quar-
ters. When Cæsar entered on the administration of his province it
was threatened with invasion. The Romans had never lost their
dread of the northern barbarians, no orgotten the capture of Rome
three centuries before. Only a generation back, Marius had become
the national hero by destroying the invading hordes of Cimbri and
Teutones. Cæsar purposed to make the barbarians tremble at the
Roman name. This first book of the Commentaries tells how he
raised an army in haste, with which he outmarched, outmanæuvred
and defeated the Helvetian nation. This people, urged by pressure
behind and encouragement in front, had determined to leave its old
home in the Alpine valleys and to settle in the fairer regions of
southeastern France. Surprised and dismayed by Cæsar's terrific
reception of their supposed invincible host, they had to choose between
utter destruction and a tame return, with sadly diminished numbers,
to their old abodes. Nor was this all the work of the first year.
Ariovistus, a German king, also invited by a Gallic tribe, and rely-
ing on the terror of his nation's name, came to establish himself and
his people on the Gallic side of the Rhine. He too was astonished
at the tone with which Cæsar ordered him to depart, but soon found
himself forced to return far more quickly than he had come.
Having thus vindicated the Roman claim to the frontiers of Gaul
against other invaders, the proconsul devoted his second summer to
the subjugation of the Belgæ, the most warlike and the most remote
of the Gauls. The second book tells how this was accomplished.
There was one moment when the conqueror's career came near end-
ing prematurely.
