The Headsman - James Fenimore Cooper
Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36
"Fairly reasoned, friend Melchior, and like an able umpire, leaving to
each his share of consolation and vanity. Herr Mueller, dost thou agree in
a decision that gives thy much vaunted Switzerland so formidable a rival?"
"Signore," answered the meek traveller, "I see enough to admire and love
in both, as is always the fact with that which God hath formed. This is a
glorious world for the happy, and most might be so, could they summon
courage to be innocent."
"The good Augustine will tell thee that this bears hard on certain points
of theology, in which our common nature is treated with but indifferent
respect. He that would continue innocent must struggle hard with his
propensities."
The stranger was thoughtful, and Sigismund; whose eye had been earnestly
riveted on his face, thought that it denoted more of peace then usual.
"Signore," rejoined the Herr Mueller, when time had been given for
reflection, "I believe it is good for us to know unhappiness. He that is
permitted too much of his own will gets to be headstrong, and, like the
overfed bullock, difficult to be managed; whereas, he who lives under the
displeasure of his fellow-creatures is driven to look closely into
himself, and comes, at last, to chasten his spirit by detecting its
faults."
"Art thou a follower of Calvin?" demanded the Augustine suddenly,
surprised to hear opinions so healthful in the mouth of a dissenter from
the true church.
"Father, I belong neither to Rome nor to the religion of Geneva. I am a
humble worshipper of God, and a believer in the blessed mediation of his
holy Son."
"How!--Where dost thou find such sentiments out of the pale of the
church?"
"In mine own heart. This is my temple, holy Augustine, and I never enter
it without adoration for its Almighty founder. A cloud was over the roof
of my father at my birth, and I have not been permitted to mingle much
with men; but the solitude of my life has driven me to study my own
nature, which I hope has become none the worse for the examination. I know
I am an unworthy and sinful man, and I hope others are as much better than
I as their opinions of themselves would give reason to think."
The words of the Herr Mueller, which lost none of their weight by his
unaffected and quiet manner, excited curiosity. At first, most of the
listeners were disposed to believe him one of those exaggerated spirits
who exalt themselves by a pretended self-abasement, but his natural,
quiet, and thoughtful deportment soon produced a more favorable opinion.
There was a habit of reflection, a retreating inward look about his eye,
that revealed the character of one long and truly accustomed to look more
at himself than at others, and which wrought singularly in his behalf.
"We may not all have these flattering opinions of ourselves that thy words
would seem to imply Signor Mueller," observed the Genoese, his tone
changing to one better suited to soothe the feelings of the person
addressed, while a shade insensibly stole over his own venerable features;
"neither are all at peace that so seem. If it will be any consolation to
thee to know that others are probably no more happy than thyself, I will
add that I have known much pain, and that, too, amid circumstances which
most would deem fortunate, and which, I fear, a great majority of mankind
might be disposed to envy."
"I should be base indeed to seek consolation in such a source! I do not
complain, Signore, though my whole life has so passed that I can hardly
say that I enjoy it. It is not easy to smile when we know that all frown
upon us; else could I be content. As it is, I rather feel than repine."
"This is a most singular condition of the mind;" whispered Adelheid to
young Sigismund; for both had been deeply attentive listeners to the calm
but strong language of the Herr Mueller. The young man did not answer, and
his fair companion saw with surprise, that he was pale, and with
difficulty noticed her remark with a smile.
"The frowns of men, my son," observed the monk, "are usually reserved for
those who offend its ordinances. The latter may not be always just, but
there is a common sentiment which refuses to visit innocence, even in the
narrow sense in which we understand the word, with undeserved
displeasure."
The Herr Mueller looked earnestly at the Augustine, and he seemed about to
answer; but, checking the impulse, he bowed in submission. At the same
time, a wild, painful smile gleamed on his face.
"I agree with thee, good canon," rejoined the simple-minded baron: "we are
much addicted to quarrelling with the world, but, after all, when we look
closely into the matter, it will commonly be found that the cause of our
grievances exists in ourselves."
"Is there no Providence, father?" exclaimed Adelheid, a little
reproachfully for one of her respectful habits and great filial
tenderness. "Can we recall the dead to life, or keep those quick whom God
is pleased to destroy?"
"Thou hast me, girl!--there is a truth in this that no bereaved parent can
deny!"
This remark produced an embarrassed pause, during which the Herr Mueller
gazed furtively about him, looking from the face of one to that of
another, as if seeking for some countenance on which he could rely. But
he turned away to the view of those hills which had been so curiously
wrought by the finger of the Almighty, and seemed to lose himself in their
contemplation.
"This is some spirit that has been bruised by early indiscretion," said
the Signor Grimaldi, in a low voice, "and whose repentance is strangely
mixed with resignation. I know not whether such a man is most to be envied
or pitied. There is a fearful mixture of resignation and of suffering in
his air."
"He has not the mien of a stabber or a knave," answered the baron. "If he
comes truly of the Muellers of the Emmen Thal, or even of those of
Entlibuch, I should know something of his history. They are warm burghers,
and mostly of fair name. It is true, that in my youth one of the family
got out of favor with the councils, on account of some concealment of
their lawful claims in the way of revenue, but the man made an atonement
that was deemed sufficient in amount, and the matter was forgotten. It is
not usual, Herr Mueller, to meet citizens in our canton who go for neither
Rome nor Calvin."
"It is not usual, mein Herr, to meet men placed as I am. Neither Rome nor
Calvin is sufficient for me;--I have need of God!"
"I fear thou hast taken life?"
The stranger bowed, and his face grew livid, seemingly with the intensity
of his own thoughts. Melchior de Willading so disliked the expression,
that he turned away his eyes in uneasiness. The other glanced frequently
at the forward part of the bark, and he seemed struggling hard to speak,
but, for some strong reason, unable to effect his purpose. Uncovering
himself, at length, he said steadily, as if superior to shame, while he
fully felt the import of his communication, but in a voice that was
cautiously suppressed--
"I am Balthazar, of your canton, Herr Baron, and I pray your powerful
succor, should those untamed spirits on the forecastle come to discover
the truth. My blood hath been made to curdle to-day whilst listening to
their heartless threats and terrible maledictions. Without this fear, I
should have kept my secret,--for God knows I am not proud of my office!"
The general and sudden surprise, accompanied as it was by a common
movement of aversion, induced the Signor Grimaldi to demand the reason.
"Thy name is not in much favour apparently, Herr Mueller, or Herr
Balthazar, whichever it is thy pleasure to be called," observed the
Genoese, casting a quick glance around the circle. "There is some mystery
in it, that to me needs explanation."
"Signore, I am the headsman of Berne."
Though long schooled in the polished habits of his high condition, which
taught him ordinarily to repress strong emotions, the Signor Grimaldi
could not conceal the start which this unexpected announcement produced,
for he had not escaped the usual prejudices of men.
"Truly, we have been fortunate in our associate, Melchior," he said drily,
turning without ceremony from the man whose modest, quiet mien had lately
interested him so much, but whose manner he now took to be assumed,--few
pausing to investigate the motives of those who are condemned of
opinion:--"here has been much excellent and useful morality thrown away
upon a very unworthy subject!"
The baron received the intelligence of the real name of their travelling
companion with less feeling. He had been greatly puzzled to account for
the singular language he had heard, and he found relief in so brief a
solution of the difficulty.
"The pretended name, after all, then, is only a cloak to conceal the
truth! I knew the Muellers of the Emmen Thal so well, that I had great
difficulty in fitting the character which the honest man gave of himself
fairly upon any one of them all. But it is now clear enough, and doubtless
Balthazar has no great reason to be proud of the turn which Fortune has
played his family in making them executioners."
"Is the office hereditary?" demanded the Genoese, quickly.
"It is. Thou knowest that we of Berne have great respect for ancient
usages. He that is born to the Buergerschaft will die in the exercise of
his rights, and he that is born out of its venerable pale must be
satisfied to live out of it, unless he has gold or favor. Our institutions
are a hint from nature, which leaves men as they are created, preserving
the order and harmony of society by venerable and well-defined laws, as is
wise and necessary. In nature, he that is born strong remains strong, and
he that has little force must be content with his feebleness."
The Signor Grimaldi looked like one who felt contrition.
"Art thou, in truth, an hereditary executioner?" he asked, addressing
Balthazar himself.
"Signore, I am: else would hand of mine have never taken life. 'Tis a hard
duty to perform, even under the obligations and penalties of the
law;--otherwise, it were accursed!"
"Thy fathers deemed it a privilege!"
"We suffer for their error: Signore, the sins of the fathers, in our case,
have indeed been visited on the children to the latest generations."
The countenance of the Genoese grew brighter and his voice resumed the
polished tones in which he usually spoke.
"Here has been some injustice of a certainty," he said, "or one of thy
appearance would not be found in this cruel position. Depend on our
authority to protect thee, should the danger thou seemest to apprehend
really occur. Still the laws must be respected, though not always of the
rigid impartiality that we might wish. Thou hast owned the imperfection of
human nature, and it is not wonderful that its work should have flaws."
"I complain not now of the usage, which to me has become habit, but I
dread the untamed fury of these ignorant and credulous men, who have taken
a wild fancy that my presence might bring a curse upon the bark."
There are accidental situations which contain more healthful morals than
can be drawn from a thousand ingenious and plausible homilies, and in
which facts, in their naked simplicity, are far more eloquent than any
meaning that can be conveyed by words. Such was the case with this meek
and unexpected appeal of Balthazar. All who heard him saw his situation
under very different colors from those in which it would have been
regarded had the subject presented itself under ordinary circumstances. A
common and painful sentiment attested strongly against the oppression that
had given birth to his wrongs, and the good Melchior de Willading himself
wondered how a case of this striking injustice could have arisen under the
laws of Berne.
Chapter VI.
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks,
A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
All scattered in the bottom of the sea.
_Richard III._
The flitting twilight was now on the wane, and the shades of evening were
gathering fast over the deep basin of the lake. The figure of Maso, as he
continued to pace his elevated platform, was drawn dark and distinct
against the southern sky, in which some of the last rays of the sun still
lingered, but objects on both shores were getting to be confounded with
the shapeless masses of the mountains. Here and there a pale star peeped
out, though most of the vault that stretched across the confined horizon
was shut in by dusky clouds. A streak of dull, unnatural light was seen in
the quarter which lay above the meadows of the Rhone, and nearly in a
direction with the peak of Mont Blanc, which, though not visible from this
portion of the Leman, was known to lie behind the ramparts of Savoy, like
a monarch of the hills entrenched in his citadel of rocks and ice.
The change, the lateness of the hour, and the unpleasant reflections left
by the short dialogue with Balthazar, produced a strong and common desire
to see the end of a navigation that was beginning to be irksome. Those
objects which had lately yielded so much and so pure a delight were now
getting to be black and menacing, and the very sublimity of the scale on
which Nature had here thrown together her elements was an additional
source of uncertainty and alarm. Those fairy-like, softly-delineated,
natural arabesques, which had so lately been dwelt upon with rapture were
now converted into dreary crags that seemed to beetle above the helpless
bark, giving unpleasant admonitions of the savage and inhospitable
properties of their iron-bound bases, which were known to prove
destructive to all who were cast against them while the elements were in
disorder.
These changes in the character of the scene, which in some respects began
to take the aspect of omens, were uneasily witnessed by all in the stern
of the bark, though the careless laughter, the rude joke, and the noisy
cries, which from time to time arose on the forecastle, sufficiently
showed that the careless spirits it held were still indulging in the
coarse enjoyments most suited to their habits. One individual, however,
was seen stealing from the crowd, and establishing himself on the pile of
freight, as if he had a mind more addicted to reflection, and less
disposed to unmeaning revelry, than most of those whom he had just
abandoned. This was the Westphalian student, who, wearied with amusements
that were below the level of his acquirements, and suddenly struck with
the imposing aspect of the lake and the mountains, had stolen apart to
muse on his distant home and the beings most dear to him, under an
excitement that suited those morbid sensibilities which he had long
encouraged by a very subtle metaphysical system of philosophy. Until now,
Maso had paced his lofty post with his eye fixed chiefly on the heavens in
the direction of Mont Blanc, occasionally turning it, however, over the
motionless bulk of the bark, but when the student placed himself across
his path, he stopped and smiled at the abstracted air and riveted regard
with which the youth gazed at a star.
"Art thou an astronomer, that thou lookest so closely at yonder shining
world?" demanded Il Maledetto, with the superiority that the mariner
afloat is wont successfully to assume over the unhappy wight of a
landsman, who is very liable to admit his own impotency on the novel and
dangerous element:--"the astrologer himself would not study it more
deeply."
"This is the hour agreed upon between me and one that I love to bring the
unseen principle of our spirits together, by communing through its
medium."
"I have heard of such means of intercourse. Dost see more than others by
reason of such an assistant?"
"I see the object which is gazed upon, at this moment, by kind blue eyes
that have often looked upon me in affection. When we are in a strange
land, and in a fearful situation, such a communion has its pleasures!"
Maso laid his hand upon the shoulder of the student, which he pressed with
the force of a vice.
"Thou art right," he said, moodily; "make the most of thy friendships,
and, if there are any that love thee, tighten the knot by all the means
thou hast. None know the curse of being deserted in this selfish and cruel
battle of interest better than I! Be not ashamed of thy star, but gaze at
it till thy eye-strings crack. See the bright eyes of her that loves thee
in its twinkling, her constancy in its lustre, and her melancholy in its
sadness; lose not the happy moments, for there will soon be a dark curtain
to shut out its view."
The Westphalian was struck with the singular energy as well as with the
poetry of the mariner, and he distrusted the obvious allusion to the
clouds, which were, in fact, fast covering the vault above their heads.
"Dost thou like the night?" he demanded, turning from his star in doubt.
"It might be fairer. This is a wild region, and your cold Swiss lakes
sometimes become too hot for the stoutest seaman's heart. Gaze at thy star
young man, while thou mayest, and bethink thee of the maiden thou lovest
and of all her kindness; we are on a crazy water, and pleasant thoughts
should not be lightly thrown away."
Maso walked away, leaving the student alarmed, uneasy at he knew not what,
and yet bent with childish eagerness on regarding the little luminary that
occasionally was still seen wading among volumes of vapor. At this
instant, a shout of unmeaning, clamorous merriment arose on the
forecastle.
Il Maledetto did not remain any longer on the pile, but abandoning it to
the new occupant, he descended among the silent, thoughtful party who were
in possession of the cleared space near the stern. It was now so dark that
some little attention was necessary to distinguish faces, even at trifling
distances. But, by means of moving among these privileged persons with
great coolness and seeming indifference, he soon succeeded in placing
himself near the Genoese and the Augustine.
"Signore," he said, in Italian, raising his cap to the former with the
same marked respect as before, though it was evidently no easy matter to
impress him with the deference that the obscure usually feel for the
great--"this is likely to prove an unfortunate end to a voyage that began
with so fair appearances. I could wish that your eccellenza, with all this
noble and fair company, was safely landed in the town of Vevey."
"Dost thou mean that we have cause to fear more than delay?"
"Signore, the mariner's life is one of unequal chances: now he floats in a
lazy calm, and presently he is tossed between heaven and earth, in a way
to make the stoutest heart sick. My knowledge of these waters is not
great, but there are signs making themselves seen in the sky, here above
the peak that lies in the direction of Mont Blanc, that would trouble me,
were this our own clue but treacherous Mediterranean."
"What thinkest thou of this, father; a long residence in the Alps must
have given thee some insight into their storms?"
The Augustine had been grave and thoughtful from the moment that he ceased
to converse with Balthazar. He, too, had been struck with the omens, and,
long used to study the changes of the weather, in a region where the
elements sometimes work their will on a scale commensurate with the
grandeur of the mountains, his thoughts had been anxiously recurring to
the comforts and security of some of those hospitable roofs in the city to
which they were bound, and which were always ready to receive the clavier
of St. Bernard, in return for the services and self-denial of his
brotherhood.
"With Maso, I could wish we were safely landed," answered the good canon;
"the intense heat that a day like this creates in our valleys and on the
lakes so weakens the sub-strata, or foundations of air, that the cold
masses which collect around the glaciers sometimes descend like avalanches
from their heights, to fill the vacuum. The shock is fearful, even to
those who meet it in the glens and among the rocks, but the plunge of such
a column of air upon one of the lakes is certain to be terrible."
"And thou thinkest there is danger of one of these phenomena at present?"
"I know not; but I would we were housed! That unnatural light above, and
this deep tranquillity below, which surpasses an ordinary cairn have
already driven me to my aves."
"The reverend Augustine speaks like a book man, and one who has passed his
time, up in his mountain-convent, in study and reflection," rejoined Maso;
"whereas the reasons I have to offer savor more of the seaman's practice.
A calm like this, will be followed, sooner or later, by a commotion in the
atmosphere. I like not the absence of the breeze from the land, on which
Baptiste counted so surely, and, taking that symptom with the signs of
yonder hot sky, I look soon to see this extraordinary quiet displaced by
some violent struggle among the winds. Nettuno, too, my faithful dog, has
given notice, by the manner in which he snuffs the air, that we are not to
pass the night in this motionless condition."
"I had hoped ere this to be quietly in our haven. What means yonder bright
light? Is it a star in the heavens, or does it merely lie against the side
of the huge mountain?"
"There shines old Roger de Blonay!" cried the baron, heartily; "he knows
of our being in the bark, and he has fired his beacon that we may steer by
its light."
The conjecture seemed probable, for, while the day remained, the castle of
Blonay, seated on the bosom of the mountain that shelters Vevey to the
north-east, had been plainly visible. It had been much admired, a pleasing
object in a view that was so richly studded with hamlets and castles, and
Adelheid had pointed it out to Sigismund as the immediate goal of her
journey. The lord of Blonay being apprized of the intended visit nothing
was more probable than that he, an old and tried friend of Melchior de
Willading's should show this sign of impatience; partly in compliment to
those whom he expected, and partly as a signal that might be really useful
to those who navigated the Leman, in a night that threatened so much murky
obscurity.
The Signor Grimaldi rightly deemed the circumstances grave, and, calling
to him his friend and Sigismund, he communicated the apprehensions of the
monk and Maso. A braver man than Melchior de Willading did not dwell in
all Switzerland, but he did not hear the gloomy predictions of the Genoese
without shaking in every limb.
"My poor enfeebled Adelheid!" he said, yielding to a father's tenderness:
"what will become of this frail plant, if exposed to a tempest in an
unsheltered bark?"
"She will be with her father, and with her father's friend," answered the
maiden herself; for the narrow limits to which they were necessarily
confined, and the sudden burst of feeling in the parent, which had
rendered him incautious in pitching his voice, made her the mistress of
the cause of alarm. "I have heard enough of what the good Father Xavier
and this mariner have said, to know that we are in a situation that might
be better; but am I not with tried friends? I know already what the Herr
Sigismund can do in behalf of my life, and come what may, we have all a
beneficent guardian in One, who will not leave any of us to perish without
remembering we are his children."
"This girl shames us all," said the Signor Grimaldi; "but it is often thus
with these fragile beings, who rise the firmest and noblest in moments
when prouder man begins to despair. They put their trust in God, who is a
prop to sustain even those who are feebler than our gentle Adel held. But
we will not exaggerate the causes of apprehension, which, after all, may
pass away like many other threatening dangers, and leave us hours of
felicitation and laughter in return for a few minutes of fright."
"Say, rather of thanksgiving," observed the clavier, "for the aspect of
the heavens is getting to be fearfully solemn. Thou, who art a
mariner--hast thou nothing to suggest?"
"We have the simple expedient of our sweeps, father; but, after neglecting
their use so long, it is now too late to have recourse to them. We could
not reach Vevey by such means, with this bark loaded to the water's edge,
before the night would change, and, the water once fairly in motion, they
could not be used at all."
"But we have our sails," put in the Genoese; "they at least may do us good
service when the wind shall come."
Maso shook his head, but he made no answer. After a brief pause, in which
he seemed to study the heavens still more closely, he went to the spot
where the patron yet lay lost in sleep, and shook him rudely.--"Ho!
Baptiste! awake! there is need here of thy counsel and of thy commands."
The drowsy owner of the bark rubbed his eyes, and slowly regained the use
of his faculties.
"There is not a breath of wind," he muttered; "why didst awake me,
Maso?--One that hath led thy life should know that sleep is sweet to those
who toil."
"Ay, 'tis their advantage over the pampered and idle. Look at the heavens,
man, and let us know what thou thinkest of their appearance. Is there the
stuff in thy Winkelried to ride out a storm like this we may have to
encounter?"