Newspaper Page Text
1852.]
long been, even that] John, the carriage,
the carriage : swift! Let ine go home
in silence, to reflection, perhaps to sack
cloth and ashes! This, and not amuse
ment would have profited those high-di
zened persons.
Amusement, at any rate, they did not
get from Euterpe and Melpomene. These
two muses, sent for, regardless of ex
pense, I could see, were but the vehicle
of a kind of service which I judged to be
Paphian rather. Young beauties of both
sexes used their opera-glasses, you could
notice, not entirely for looking at the
stage. And it must be owned the light,
in this explosion of all the upholsteries,
and the human fine arts and coarse, was
magical; and made your fair one an Ar
mida —if you liked her better so. Nay,
certain old improper females, (of quality)
in their rouge and jewels, even these
looked some reminiscence of enchant
i ment; and I saw this and the other lean
domestic Dandy, with icy smile on his
old worn face ; this and the other Marquis
Singedelomme, Prince Mahogany,-or the
life foreign Dignitary, tripping into the
boxes of said females, grinning there
awhile, with dyed moustachios and ma
cassar-oil graciosity, and then tripping
out again ; and, in fact, 1 perceived that
Coletti and Cerito, and the Rhythmic
Arts, were a mere accompaniment here.
Wonderful to see ; and sad, if you had
eyes! Do but think of it. Cleopatra
threw pearls into her drink, in mere
waste; which was reckoned foolish of
her. Rut here had the modern aristocra
cy of men brought the divinest of its
arts, heavenly music itself; and, piling
all the upholsteries and ingenuities that
other human art could do, had lighted
them into a bonfire to illuminate an
hour’s flirtation of Singedelomme, Mahog
any, and these improper persons ! Never
in nature had 1 seen such waste before.
0 Colletti, you whose inborn melody,
once of kindred as I judged to “the
melodies eternal,” might have valiantly
weeded out this and the other false thing
Irona the ways of men, and made a bit of
Cod’s creation more melodious, —they
have purchased you away from that;
chained you to the wheel of Prince Ma
hogany’s chariot, and here you make
sport for a macassar Singedelomme, and
his improper females past the prime of
life! Wretched spiritual nigger, oh, if
>Oll had some genius, and were not
a born nigger with mere appetite for
I P urn pkin, should you-have endured such
! a lot'? I lament for you beyond all other
expenses. Other expenses are light; you
me the Cleopatra’s pearl that should have
j ~| eeil flung into Mahogany’s claret-cup.
. and Rossini, too, and Mozart and Belli
n.l °h, Heavens, when I think that mu
sic too is condemned to be mad and to
hum herself, to this end, on such a fun
|ol P l^e ) —your celestial Opera-house
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
grows dark and infernal to me! Behind
its glitter stalks the shadow of eternal
death; through it, too, 1 look not “up
into the divine eye,” as Richter has it,
“but down into the bottomless eye-sock
et’—not up towards God, Heaven, and
the Throne of Truth, but too truly down
towards Falsity, Vacuity, and the dwel
ling-place of Everlasting Despair.—Lon
don Keepsake, for 1852.
f- or the Southern Literary Gazette.
THE LORDE CHRYSTMASSE.
A Christmas Carol,altered from tiie old English.
I am here, the Lorde Chrystmasse ;
Give me welcome, lad and lasse,
For I come to heale trespasse,—
Hurts of soule to heale ;
Tidyngs of greate joy I bring,
And ye neede, with welcomynge,
To rejoyce the inanne I synge,
Borne for sinner’s vveale !
’Tis Chryste’s comyng that ye see
He who dyed upon the tree,
That youre soules, from sinne sette free,
May be his once more :
In this promise, make ye cheare, —
Yet of evyll joyes beware,
Satan spreads his fatal snare,
Though his sway bo o’er !
Welcome me, the Lorda Chrystmasse ;
Be ye happy, lad and lasse,
Yet, beware ye, lest ye passe
Bounds ol precious grace ;
Peaceful be the pure delyghtes,
That make giadae these merne mghtes,
So that on Chryste’s holye heightes,
Ye may alle have place !
THE DEATH OE A WHALE.
[From ‘'Moby Dick,” by Herman Melville, published by
the Harpers.]
“ ‘Start her, start her, my men ! Don’t
hurry yourselves; take plenty of time —
but start her; start her like thunder
claps, that’s all,’ cried Stubb, sputtering
out the smoke as he spoke. ‘Start her
now; give ’em the long and strong stroke,
Tashtego. Start her, Tash, my boy—
start her all; but keep cool, keep cool—
cucumbers is the word—easy, easy —only
start her like grim death and grinning
devils, and raise the buried dead perpen
dicular out of their graves, boys—that’s
all. Start her!’
‘\Voo-hoo! Wa-hee!’ screamed the
Gay-Header in reply, raising some old
war-hoop to the skies; as every oarsman
in the strained boat involuntarily bounced
forward with the one tremendous leading
stroke which the eager Indian gave.
But his wild screams were answered
by others quite as wild. ‘Kee-hee ! Kee
hee!’ yelled Daggoo, straining forward
and backward on his scat, like a pacing
tiger in his cage.
‘Ka la ! Koo-100 !’ howled Queequeg,
as if smacking his lips over a mouthful
of Grenadier’s steak. And thus with
oars and yells the keels cut the sea.—
Meanwhile, Stubb retaining his place in
the van, still encouraged his men to the
onset, all the while puffing the smoke
from his mouth. Like desperadoes they
tugged and they strained, till the wel
come cry was heard—“ Stand up, Tashte
go!—give it to him !’ The harpoon was
hurled. ‘Stern all!’ The oarsman back
ed water; the same moment something
went hot and hissing along every one of
their wrists. It was the magical line.—
An instant before, Snubb had swiftly
caught two additional turns with it round
the loggerhead, whence by reason of its
increased rapid circlings, a hempen blue
smoke now jetted up and mingled with
the steady fumes from his pipe. As the
line passed round and round the logger
head, so also, just before reaching that
point, it blisteringly passed through and
through both of Snubb’s hands, from
which the hand-cloths, or squares of quilt
ed canvas sometimes worn at these times,
had accidentally dropped. It was like
holding an enemy’s sharp two-edged
sword by the blade, and that enemy all
the time striving to wrest it out of your
clutch.
‘Wet the line! wet the line!’ cried
Stubb to the tub oarsman (him seated by
the tub) who, snatching off his hat, dash
ed the sea-water into it. More turns
were taken, so that the line began hold
ing its place. The boat soon flew through
the boiling water like a shark all fins. —
Stubb and Tashtego here changed places
—stem for stern —a staggering business
trul v in that rocking commotion.
From the vibrating line extending the
entire length of the upper part of the
bout, and from its now being more tight
than a harpstring, you would have thought
the craft had two keels —one cleaving the
water, the other the air—as the boat
churned on through both opposing ele
ments at once. A continual cascade
played at the bows; a ceaseless whirling
eddy in her wake ; and, at the slightest
motion from within, even but of a little
finger, the vibrating, cracking craft cant
ed over her spasmodic gunwale into the
sea. Thus they rushed ; each man with
might and main clinging to his seat, to
prevent being tossed to the foam ; and
the tall form of Tashtego at the steering
oar crouching almost double, in order to
bring down his centre of gravity. Whole
Atlantics and Pacifies seemed passed as
they shot on their way, till at length the
whale somewhat slackened his flight.
‘Haul in—haul in!’ cried Stubb to the
bowsman, and, facing round towards the
whale, all hands began pulling the boat
up to him, while yet the boat was being
towed on. Soon ranging up by his flank,
Stubb, firmly planting his knee in the
clumsy cleat* darted dart after dart into
the flying fish ; at the word of command,
the boat alternately sterning out of tho
5
